#the eye contact! and francis's little smile!

[crazy-god-bunker-jughead]

We're always talking about

And yes, it is a beautiful little moment.

But what about THIS little exchange right after?

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Let Me In

Yandere Francis Mosses (Doppelgänger) x GN Reader

Swish. Swish.

You leaned back as your foot steadily rocked the cushioned seat of your desk chair from side to side. It was yet another boring day of being the doorman for this apartment complex. Yet you couldn’t help the shudder run down your spine from time to time since you constantly felt under surveillance. Then again, perhaps you were going slightly insane from working such long hours in such a narrow space? There was no way someone would stalk you of all people… right?

You let out a low chuckle at your thoughts. You recently felt as if your days melt together. It was the same routine every single day. Stop the doppelgängers from entering the apartment complex. Check their IDs and entry requests. Call their room. You were tired of this consistent repetitive pattern! You wanted some excitement for once-

“Hello.” You jumped to attention when a handsome man stood before you. Your eyes nearly shot out of your head at the blood that stained his face. Was it macabre of you to find that attractive. “I just got off work and I’d like to call it a day in my apartment.”

“Y-you have a little.” Your breath hitched when he wiped the blood off with his thumb and gave you the faintest of smiles.

“Ah. I hadn’t realized I made a mess earlier. Thank you.” The man then handed you his ID and entry request. Francis Mosses was it? He was indeed a looker and his ID checked out… but he wasn’t on today’s list.

“I’m sorry, Francis. You’re not on the list today-“ you scream when he slammed his hands on the window. His half-lidded eyes now wide open and bloodshot. This man no longer looked like an angel, but rather a demon. A demon that would no doubt rip you apart and swallow you whole.

“I’m not on the list? I’m sure you could let me in.” You quickly push the emergency button but his large hands grab the metal doors before you can shut them completely. You gulp when you spot the veins bulging from his gray hands. “Haven’t you been bored lately? You always look so lonely at your desk… I’m sure I could show you a good time.”

Well, Francis wasn’t wrong- no! You can’t endanger the residents! You dialed the D.D.D’s number with haste which made the doppelgänger sigh.

“Fine! Have it your way.” Francis casted you one last look. “But I will be back. And you will let me in. Remember, I’m always watching.”

You deflated like a ballon and sunk back into your chair. Your body felt as if your bones had completely melted from how scared you were… you’ve never encountered such an aggressive doppelgänger before…

“You have contacted the D.D.D. A group of agents has been sent to your building.” The garbled voice on the other end of the line brought you back down to reality.

You sighed and leaned forward to put your face in your palms. What on earth did Francis mean that he would always be watching?

[toutallyahoe]

helping you out on the francis with the pussy propaganda; railing trans francis while he's in a cow lingerie i wanna see him squirt as the reader torture his clit im unhinged

━ pretty cow ,, that's not my neighbor

pairing(s): francis "milkman" mosses x male reader warnings: cursing, ftm francis, subby francis, vaginal sex, lingerie, fucking with clothes on (for francis), lil praise kink (calling francis pretty <333), overstimulation, marathon sex, dacryphilia a/n: i have exams tomorrow but spreading the francis with a pussy propaganda is more important

and because my mahal asked and also im petty af

Francis was a pretty little thing in your humble opinion. The man may look like he needs to take a nap for a week from those tired eyes of his, but the man still looks handsome. Especially in his white milkman uniform that just fit well in him. It was always hard to not immediately jump Francis when he was in those clothes before and after he came back from work. So pretty, so beautiful... how can you not want him?

What was more tempting of the image of Francis in his uniform was when the man was out of it. Soft, smooth skin that looks so pretty with his marks all over, especially on Francis' chest. Little chub on the stomach that you loved to place and hold your hand over, especially when you can feel the bump of your cock when you were inside Francis. And oh, thick thighs that Francis gained from delivering milk.

Francis was beautiful. So, so pretty... and it really took everything in your willpower not to jump the man and ravish Francis already when Francis just came back.

But you know what's more tempting? What Francis was wearing right now in front of you.

"You... beautiful," You breathlessly said as you stared slack-jawed at Francis. Awe in your eyes as you tried to soak up the sight in front of you. Francis let out a soft whine from the praise as he tried to adjust the clothes he was on. Francis was wearing a special lingerie that you had jokingly bought, but god, it hugged Francis' body so prettily. "You look so beautiful."

"It's embarrassing," Francis said, cheeks flushed as he avoided eye contact with you. "Why did you buy this?" He asked as he let out a surprised yelp when he was pulled down, landing on your lap as he put his hands on your shoulder to balance himself. Francis sent you a small glare, pouting as he got a smile from you.

"What? I think it fits you," You chuckled as you placed a hand on Francis' waist while the other toyed with the strings of the panties Francis was wearing. The lingerie was cow printed, which was amusing but also worked well from what you planned to do to Francis. "Don't you think so?" You cooed as you did think it fit the man in your lap quite well. Francis pouted more.

"It's not funny," Francis said and you just shook your head and smiled.

"I think it's perfect," You said as you brought Francis to a kiss, your hand that played with the strings of Francis' panties had roamed to touch Francis' crotch instead. The man on your lap didn't fight back at all, instead reciprocating your kiss as you squeezed Francis' waist affectionately. Francis let out a moan from the kiss when your middle and forefinger pressed in the middle of the panties, rubbing until you could feel Francis' slick make a small wet patch. "Now, can I get my milk?"

“Fuck— fuck! Fuckin— hold on, s... shit—” He gasps as Francis moans helplessly. His mouth fell open in pleasure while his whole body shook from the overwhelming feeling of his body just in deep pleasure but as well as from your hard thrust. His thighs become a frothy mess as his slick and your cum dripped from his cunt. His moans turned into screams when you started fucking him into the bed harder and harsher again, nipping at his exposed throat and leaving marks all over his skin. "W... wait!"

You harshly rolled your hips, making sure your cock hit Francis' core dead on each time you slammed yourself in. You let out deep, pleasured moans into Francis' neck as you felt Francis claw your back, nails digging to your skin and probably... absolutely, leaving marks that'll show tomorrow. But it's fine because you left your marks on Francis already and will continue to leave more. Outside and inside the Milkman when you were done with him.

"Fuck!" You hissed as you slammed yourself harshly deep inside Francis, feeling the man squeeze around your cock before it got more slippier and wetter than it was before. Francis came again and you weren't too far behind because before you knew it, you spilt your load inside Francis' warmth. You two moaned as Francis felt so full that his hands had unconsciously touched his stomach, feeling the bump grow bigger from your cock and cum in him.

Taking a breather from just coming inside again, you felt Francis' body slack in your hold and when you took your face away from Francis' neck to see if the man was okay, you soaked in the messy yet beautiful sight in front of you. It was truly beautiful.

Francis' smooth skin was already painted with so many bites and hickeys, especially around his neck and chest courtesy from you. His tits spilt out from the cow-printed bra, his nipples red and abused with bite marks around them that no doubt Francis will be putting band-aids over to not get it irritated in his shirts. His panties were pushed to the side so you could have easy access to his cunt which was just puffy and red already and cum kept gushing out each time you thrust inside him before.

Having an idea, you slowly took your cock out, hearing Francis weakly whine as you did while you felt Francis' inside tried so desperately to keep you in. But once you pulled your cock out, you let out a soft groan seeing your cum gush out from Francis' gaping pussy.

Shit... you really want to go for another round...

"[Name]...?" Hearing Francis weakly calling out your name. You looked away from looking at Francis' abused cunt to look at the man in the face. It was getting even more harder not to plunge your cock inside Francis again seeing Francis tired, teary eyes looking at you. A small pout on his lips. What came out next from Francis' lips made you just snap. "In... inside..."

Fuck it.

Francis' eyes threaten to roll into the back of his skull when you pushed your cock inside him again and you didn't even wait for Francis to take a breath when you began to move. Your thrust more harsher as you put your weight into fucking your cock inside Francis' cunt. Francis lets out moans and cries as he desperately attempts to meet your thrusts, but eventually, Francis just lays there and takes it.

[dilucs-princess]

The sweet taste of milk

Pairing: Doppelganger Francis x afab reader

words: 1,147

warnings: fem!reader (no pronouns but fem anatomy), sub!Francis, slapping, unrealistic sex (no prep), slight mommy kink, overstimulation

reblogs > likes

@b-ella-donn-a

Francis Mosses was on his knees, staring up at you. You have no idea how you got in this situation, peering at him through the window. "Please," He breaths, clasping his hands together. "Please let me in.. I-I'll be a good boy... I'll serve you so well, miss, please..."

You could only watch, mouth hanging open in shock as you watch Francis. Was it Francis? Was it a doppel? You weren't even sure but the way he was begging was so beautifully and so needy, you had to rub your own thighs together.

Your hand reached towards the open button and Francis basically sobbed with relief, crawling his way towards you. You could tell he was so, so needy! You couldn't help but laugh as he crawled into your office.

He sat back on his knees, a cute little bulge forming at the front of his trousers, you reached your foot out to press down on it gently and he keened, choking back a desperate moan.

His disguise was starting the slip. Sharp teeth and a long tongue, red eyes, rimmed with gold. You grinned.

This is what you wanted. You gestured the poor doppelganger to stand up. "Strip," You commanded. And he did it as fast as his shaking and trembling hands allowed him. He folded his shirt and trousers, placing his hat and bow tie on top.

He was left in his boxers and shivered when you licked your lips. "Delectable... Truly, a pleasant sight to behold.." You murmured, standing up. You clicked your fingers and pointed to the chair, he rushed over to sit down.

'What a good boy..'

You chuckled, shaking your head as you ran a hand through his hair and he leaned into the touch. You leant down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, kissing across his jaw and slowly down his neck and chest.

You moved to straddle his lap and he gasped when your body made contact with his hard dick. Even through his final layer and your clothes, he desperately rutted up but you slapped him and he stopped immediately. He sobbed softly, he was so desperate for release! He needed to cum so bad - and you hadn't done anything!

A soft chuckle left you at his pathetic state and you lowered your head to wrap around his nipple, gently sucking on it whilst your other hand went to tug and pull at the opposite one, leaving him writhing and whimpering under you. You hummed with a raised eyebrow as you pulled back, swapping your mouth and hand with a happy smile.

Francis was panting, gripping your hipws tightly, he was trying so hard not to move his hips, he didn't want to get hit again, he was a good boy! He bit back another moan, he was sure his fingers were causing indents in your skin.

He threw his head back when you began to grind against his cock. Small whimpers left his lips and a small cry when you got up off of him. He looked back up but sighed happily when you began to strip, quickly standing too discard his last item of clothing.

You raised an eyebrow, chcukling when you saw him sitting down quickly too, wrapping a hand around his dick. He moaned softly, slowly stroking himself, squeezing his eyes shut. You tsk'ed quietly, cupping his chin, your thumb swiping across his lip. "Gonna cum already? You're not even inside me yet!" You laughed, humming as he took your thumb in his mouth.

Francis was like putty in your hands, so desperate and needy for you, allowing his hand to pull away from his dick as you straddled him, the tip of his dick rubbing against your pussy.

He cried softly, whining when you took your thumb out of his mouth, quickly taking one of your breasts into his mouth, suckling desperately on your nipple. You smiled, he was so cute! How could you ever deny him anything?

"Mommy, mommyy, please.." he whimpered against your skin and you just smiled, slamming down onto him quickly, all at once.

Both of you moaned out in unison and you smiled at the slight stretch, though you couldn't wait for your turn to fuck him instead. You allowed time for you both to adjust as his hands went to hold onto your hips, slowly rubbing circles into the skin before you slowly lifted yourself up and dropping down again.

Francis' breath was hot against your neck and skin, his moans breathless and desperate as he whimpered and whined as every pull of your soft walls against his rock hard dick. He knew he wouldn't last long, he had been desperate for ages.

His fingers were digging into your skin, his eyes glued to your cunt as one of your perfect hands went to rub at your clit. He whimpered and tentatively replaced your hand with his. He smiled up at you nervously but it all disappeared as he saw your blissful expression.

"Mmm, Miss. 'm so close, wann' cum so bad!" He whined, burying his head in your shoulder. You smiled, nodding as you continued to bounce on his cock. "Cum, cum inside of me, darling, you're okay," You replied with a smile, clenching around him desperately.

He nodded, gasping for breath as you continuously clenched around him, rubbing your clit with more vigor, collecting some click to aid in the lubrication.

He moaned so loudly as he came that you had to shove fingers in his mouth. He didn't care, so desperate as he gagged on your fingers, eyes fixed as he cum spilled out of your beautiful pussy.

His eyed widened and he whined as you continued. "Mmf-" He tried to speak but just gagged beauifully around your fingers instead. You smiled evily down at him. "You really think you could just cum and forget about me? Stupid boy.." You laughed as he cried from the overstimulation.

You allowed your head to tilt back, thrusting your fingers into his mouth as you continuously bounced on his cock, increasing your pace as you felt yourself get closer and more and more desperate.

"Fuck, close, Francis, been such a good boy! So good for me, cumming- oh god, i'm cumming, Francis- fuck-!" You cried out, reaching out to blindly grab onto him as your pussy tghtly clenched aorund him and your body spasmed.

Francis gasped and cried as he came again too, the praise and stimulation was too much for him. You smiled as you slowly came down from your high, wiping his tears away gently.

"Sh, sh, you're okay, baby boy, it's all good. You did so well.." You promised, cupping his cheek gently. Francis looked up at you, eyes still watery as he hid his face in your chest. You just smiled and held him close. "Good boy... Well done.."

[kifflepiffles]

Milk, Flour, and Sugar.

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

Our goobers deserve a break

Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

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

Word count; 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least he had a day out with them planned. 

[double--hh]

I Think it's Gonna Rain When I Die

An unofficial addition to the Serial Killer! Francis AU!!

AU belongs to our beloved SK Francis Anon 🔪

TW: Referenced/Implied PTSD attacks, implied/referenced abuse, SK! Francis is an entire tw on his own, possessive behavior, execution via electrocution, Francis loves Nacha and tolerates Ana 👍

The police officer escorted her to the stand alone table, there sat her father… no, he lost the right to that title.

There sat Francis.

Clean shaven, sullen eyes, and ruffled and slightly matted hair. There were two guards against the back wall waiting for anything to happen. Anastacha bit the sides of her tongue as she made eye-contact with him, her expression unchanging as Francis recognized her.

He laughed a breath out and took a pained one back in, “Anastacha! My baby girl, oh look at you! You have your mother’s nose, her hair too, even-”

“Hello Francis.”

Francis pouts and cocks his head, “Mmm, that's no way to greet your father, young lady.”

She held back a snide remark and she sat down, placing her hands on the table folded, she felt her eyes twitch, “How's prison treating you? You look like shit.”

Francis threw an exaggerated hand to his chest, “Oh how hurtful, Annie-” He gets really close to the window separating them, “It's been… stifling, sweetie… 15 fucking years without my wife and child…” His eyes drone around behind her, “Where is Nacha, sweetie? Unless if you two are doin’ a one on o-”

“She didn't come. Nobody came. It's just me.”

She blinked slowly, no signs of emotion from her.

Francis furrowed his eyebrows, humming, “Hmm, surely she’s just sleeping out in the car, Annie, oh I just know your mother misses me like I miss her!” He giggles, tapping his fingers on the table, the chains making a scraping noise on the wood.

Anastacha snorts and cracks a smile, she pulls a box of cigarettes out and lights one up, “What’s so funny sweetie- ugh, y’know how bad those things are for a little girl like you, Anastacha.”

She takes a drag from it, “Y’think mom misses you, Francis? Yeah, whatever, buddy… I do understand where you're comin’ from, feeling like you're the only one who can protect your mother from your own father.”

She bites the end of her cigarette, feeling her heart strain, “You know how many sleepless nights I've gotten after you got arrested? Having to hear mom cry herself to sleep and have mental breakdowns all because of you, Francis, huh? Do you know how many times I've had to convince my own mother that it’s safe to be alone in a room with another man, hell, another person that isn't me?! Oh my god.”

She buries her face in her hands, scrunching her bangs, rubbing her eyes with her palms and mutters out, “You fucking ruined our lives.” Slamming her hands down on the table, Anastacha looks at him dead in the eyes, not a single glint of light sparkled in her eyes anymore, they’re bloodshot, her eyebags even more noticeable.

Francis frowns, crossing his arms, “Sweetie, you know damn well what kinda people are out there, I was tryna protect you and your mother from the scum of the Earth and those fucking man made pests. And what did youse do? Get me arrested after all I've done for your ungrateful ass and your darling, sweet mother.”

Anastacha rolls her eyes, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Francis let an annoyed breath out, but collected himself, “So… tell me what you’ve been up to, sweetie.” He flashes her a phony smile.

“I’m a Victim’s Advocate. I'm running my own organization, helping get folks out of domestic situations.” She tugs on her purple bow around her collar, “It's… very rewarding. Mom and dad are real proud of me.”

Francis’ eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, “G-good for you, sweetie, but- I-I’m right here and this is my first time hearing about this! Why'd you say-”

“Oh, yeah, mom’s seein’ someone.”

She watched as Francis slammed his hands on the table and stood up, the chair falling back, “WHO IS HE?! TELL ME. SHE KNOWS GODDAMN WELL THAT SHE BELONGS TO ME AND ME ONLY.” The two guards approached him and pulled him back, Anastacha leans back into her chair, taking a drag, blowing smoke from her nose.

Francis magages to calm down just enough so his vision isn't red anymore, but still feeling his blood boil and his mind race.

“Anastacha Lynn Mosses. You better fucking tell me who this bastard is.”

The guards were about to take him away till Anastacha spoke up and yelled, “Jeez Louise! Boys, calm down! Francis, pay attention.” She snaps her fingers to get his attention.

She reaches into her pocket for her wallet and opens it up, she smiles as she takes her driver's license and a polaroid out. She placed both items flush against the window, “Here 'go, Franny boy.”

Francis broke out of the guard's grasp and got his face close to the window.

He wished what he was looking at was a sick prank his little girl was pulling on her.

On the left was the polaroid, it was his Nacha in the foreground dressed in a long sleeved and puffy wedding gown. Behind her was Angus, in a dark purple tuxedo, holding her waist with one hand and his cane with the other. His vision focused in and out when he slowly rolled his eyes to Anastacha’s license and he felt his heart sink deeper than his first night alone without his family when he read her name.

Anastacha Lynn Mikaelys-Ciprianni.

His eyes pinholed as he looked dead at Anastacha, who was smiling as sweetly as ever.

That motherfucker stole his family from him.

Anastacha softly sighs as she puts her items away back into her wallet.

You could hear a pin drop how quiet it was… till Francis hit the plexiglass window, with his fists, cracking with all of his might. Anastacha jumped putting her hands up, watching the guards pull him back to his room while he was screaming obscenities to her, her mother, and especially her father. She cupped a hand next to her mouth and yelled, “So long, and thanks for all of the fish!”

She chuckles as the door slams shut, she can still hear the dead-beat yell, she turns to the officer that escorted her in, “I'm so sorry you folks had to deal with him for so long.” She reached into her pocket and gives him a stack of her business cards, “Leave ‘em by the sign in desk, y’never know what's going on with a person just by looking at ‘em.” He nodded and escorted her to the next room to watch Francis’ execution…

~

…It went as grizzly as one could go, Anastacha and her police escort were the only ones in the theater when it happened. He looked away while she watched it all go down, never faltering. Even when the vertigo of the electricity flashed her eyes never moved from Francis as she watched the remainder of life leave his body...

~

Afterwards, she left the prison, it was late at night, night life was just getting started, but she was not interested in the slightest. As she lit up another cigarette, she felt a drop of rain hit her nose.

She looked up and saw rain clouds moving in, “Mmm… peculiar… didn't know he had a soul…”

She continued walking until she found a vacant and illuminated phone booth. She entered before the rain started pouring down, the droplets making music on the glass walls. After putting 15 cents in, she slumped against the cooling wall, smoking, looking at people scuttling for cover, waiting for the caller to pick up.

“Ugh, hello? Ciprianni residents, Nacha speaking…”

“Hey mom, it's Anastacha.”

She heard her mother move excitedly on the other end, shaking Angus awake.

“Ana! Hija! How are you?! Are you okay? Did anything happen?! Do you need us to drive over?!”

Anastacha laughed, “No, mom! I'm good, I'm fine, it was very…” She looked for the words as she heard her father speak faint but very tired Italian in the background, “I feel like I closed a large chapter in my life and I’m… glad I went.”

She clears her throat as she hears Angus take the phone, “Ciao, sweetheart, I heard what you said, ‘m happy you decided to go, I’m so proud of you Anne… shit, Nacha, cara mia, what time is it?”

Anastacha huffs, checking her watch, “It's only midnight-thirty, dad!”

Angus groans as both Nacha and Anastacha giggles, “Alright, alright, I’ll let the oldies sleep, I just wanted to let y'all know that I'm outta there and I'm doing good.”

“That's great, hija, you go out and enjoy the night! Don't drink too much!”

“Yes, and remember to aim for the throat and ears if you can! And if you brought your pistol or brass knuckles even better!”

Anastacha heard her mom smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, “Ciao, Anna, you be safe and take care of yourself, mom and I love you-”

Nacha yoinked the phone, “Love you hija! Please come and visit us soon! We always have the guest room open for you!”

Anastacha puts her cigarette out with her dress shoes and smiles, “I love you guys too, when this next case is cleared up I’ll drive over to see y'all before you guys move again, good night!”

They both wish her goodnight and she hangs up. She unlatches the phone booth and exits, the rain is now a drizzle.

Sighing, she decided to take her folks advice and enjoys the evening to the fullest, starting her a new chapter in her life.

~

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Goodbye Don't Last Forever

Javey. Kind of funny ngl. Enjoy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man smiled and held out a hand to shake.

"Jack Kelly."

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

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

"I won't kill ya, Davey."

Davey...

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

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

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't-"

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

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

...

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

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

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

He was going to find out.

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

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

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

"Jack, you look sad."

"I'm fine."

"Jack."

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

"You can tell me, you know?"

Jack leaned forward, hugging David, beginning to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Twenty-four."

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

Jack smiled a little, wiping his eyes dry.

"Thank ya, Davey."

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup."

David sighed, deciding to give in.

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

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

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

...

"Davey, do you got any food?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

David had a brief memory flash through his mind.

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

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

When it was complete, Francis took a long drink.

"Wow. That's actually not terrible."

"Davey, you good?"

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

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Ex-girlfriend."

"Thought you said you're gay?"

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

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

"Uh. It's a long story."

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

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

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

"What was her name?"

Huh. Weird question.

"Why?"

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

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

"Have a picture?"

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

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

"You know her?" David asked.

"Yeah, uh. I knew her."

David's heart sped up.

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

"Davey. Stop."

"What?"

"You can't exactly go visit her."

"Why not?"

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

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

"What're you-"

"She ain't alive no more."

Everything stopped in David's head.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

David jerked away from Jack in a quick movement.

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

Which he did.

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

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

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

"Davey-"

"David."

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

David felt less good.

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

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

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

"No you don't."

"Don't test your luck."

A small moment of touching silence passed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[choke-me-joey]

40 with Joe quinn for hoe-vember?

Obsessed with this man and blowjobs and I won't apologise

40. Good girl. Good fucking girl.

Joseph Quinn x reader

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, rpf (don't like don't read), oral (m receiving), deep throating, swallowing, praise kink idk

Hoe-vember masterlist

Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn had a big dick.

Like, a big dick.

Well, you thought so anyway. You'd only been dating for a month or so now, and while you hadn't slept together yet, you'd had a couple of pretty heated make out sessions on yours or his couch, and hands had wandered and crotches had been rubbed together. From what you'd felt, he had a big fucking dick.

And honestly you were desperate to get your hands, or mouth, on it.

Which brings you to now. Another amazing date, another "do you wanna come in for a bit?" and another make out session at your place.

Joe was on top of you, giving you the deepest most delicious kisses that made your head spin and your core clench. He grinds his hips against yours and you raise your butt a little bit to meet him, the contact making you both moan softly.

You reach inbetween your grinding bodies and squeeze his cock through his baggy jeans.

"Can I...I want to suck you off," you gasp out as Joe nips at your neck. He pulls away from you, concern etched on his pretty face.

"You don't have to. You dont have to do anything you dont want to." He says quickly. Oh, this sweet, sexy man. You smile, rubbing your nose against his.

"I want to, I really, really want to." You assure him. His face relaxes once he sees that, yes, you do really want to suck him off, and why the hell is he hesitant about getting a blowjob?! Maybe the wine at dinner went to his head.

"Okay, yes, shit, okay, I'd really fucking like that."

You stand up and lead him into your bedroom. Joe hasn't been here before, so when he's in the room he looks around studying every little part of it. "I like your room, it's very...you."

"Thanks," you smile, turning him round and walking him backwards until his knees meet the edge of your bed. He pulls you into another breathtaking kiss, hands wandering down to squeeze your ass. You giggle against his lips, hands trailing down his black shirt until you find his belt buckle. "Can I?"

"Babe, you can do anything you want to me right now," he chuckles, and you grin, pecking his lips once more before settling on your knees in front of him. "God, okay, if I cum really quick, don't laugh at me okay? I've literally been thinking about this since our first date which I know is fucking creepy of me but...have you seen you?!"

"I won't laugh, and don't worry. I've been thinking about this too." You admit as you undo his belt and jeans, pulling them down to reveal his tented black boxer briefs. You lightly touch him over his boxers, before leaning in and mouthing at his cock through the thin material. His legs shake.

"Shit." He hisses through his teeth. His hand hovers by your head, like he's hesitating. You take his hand and rest it on your head. His fingers curl gently into your hair. "That okay?"

You hum approval and flick your eyes up to him, lightly tugging on his boxers.

"Can I take these off?"

"God, yes," he breathes, his eyes watching you with such intensity it makes your pussy ache. You pull them down slowly, heart hammering in your chest. His cock bobs out, almost hitting you in the face.

Fuck. You were right. It's fucking big. Uncut, nice and thick and curving upwards slightly.

"Shit, Joe, you're fucking massive." You sit back and admire him for a second, and he breathlessly laughs.

"Yeah? Happy? Does my 'massive' cock seal deal, then?" He teases you, a smirk on his face. He tugs himself slowly with the hand that isn't in your hair, pulling back the foreskin and exposing the head of his cock. You can't help but lick your lips a little as a small drop of precum blurts out of the tip. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Shut up, I like you for more than your impressive dick." You smile up at him, before darting your tongue out to taste him. He grunts and his grip tightens in your hair, making you whimper in pleasure. You don't hesitate before swallowing him down, taking him completely into your mouth.

"Fuck! Shit, yes, just like that," Joe groans, as you bob your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks. "Oh my god."

You smirk to yourself, feeling his legs trembling under your hands that were on his thighs. You move your mouth further and further down his cock, taking as much of him as you could into your throat. Joe's grip on your hair turns almost to the point of painful.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl." He growls out and you whine around his thick cock, his praise going straight to your pussy, which was definitely soaking your underwear right now. "Shit, you like that, like being a good girl for me?"

You moan out in agreement, nodding your head as best you could, before coming up off his cock for air. A string of saliva connected your lips to his dick as your jerked him off, and the sight of it makes his balls draw up; he was embarrassingly close

"Fuck, love, I'm gonna cum already, want me to go in the bathroom...?"

"Why would I want that? I'm a good girl, right? Good girls deserve a reward, and I want mine." You wink up at him before swallowing him down once more. He comes with a grunt, suddenly and hard, shooting his load down your throat, his hand holding you in place (as if you were going anywhere). You swallow everything he gives you before pulling off his cock, which, surprisingly was still hard. You look up at him and raise an eyebrow. Joe's chest was heaving and he has the sexiest smile on his face as he strips off his shirt.

"That's not the only reward you're gonna get tonight."

[girls-alias]

Break - Sam Winchester P2

Title: Break - Sam Winchester Part 2 Words: 2,824 Relations: Sam Winchester X reader. TW: NA

Part 1

Prompt:

@animesnowstorm Requested Part 2.

Coming to Bobby's was supposed to be a short-term solution but 2 years later I'm still here. Bobby isn't getting any younger so to help the both of us, I've taken on some of his roles. I organised his whole house, every book had a place to sit where it was categorized and the whole main room turned into an intelligence hub. We were getting more calls from hunters needing information on creatures and soon became the hunter's help desk. Somewhere along the way, we began helping hunters find partners or if more people were needed for a hunt we were able to make a few calls and have hunters work together. It became a community more than a way of life that was lonely.

I wouldn't say that I avoided Sam and Dean but I didn't go out of my way to contact them either. I had avoided them at the beginning, Sam calling multiple times a day, and Dean texting me to keep me updated on their lives. But they eventually stopped. They didn't visit Bobby and I wasn't sure if it was because of me or because they were busy.

"You're up early," Bobby commented as he entered the room with tired eyes. I smiled, chuckling softly as I closed my book on Wendigo's.

"I'm trying to find someone to accompany Jacob, he's tracked a wendigo and needs backup but there's no one nearby and I've already called a few people and they refuse to hunt wendigos," I explained with a sigh knowing my headache wouldn't go away soon.

"Hardly hunters if they're picking and choosing what to hunt," Bobby rolled his eyes as he took a seat close to me. I chuckled as I nodded. I completely agree. "Why don't you go?" He asked curiously. I looked at him, shocked by his words. We haven't talked about me going back to hunting the whole time I've been here. Even when my wounds healed I was too busy helping Bobby.

It took a little convincing but I was eventually on my way to meet up with Jacob. I pulled up to the motel he was staying at. I got myself a room before introducing myself to him. I've talked to him over the phone enough times to know him but I've never actually met him in person. I knocked on the door to his motel room. Waiting as I heard him approaching the door.

The door opened to reveal a somewhat attractive guy. He's conventionally attractive but not my type. I smiled politely as he grinned at me. "Hey, I'm Y/N," I introduced but he chuckled.

"I didn't realise you would be coming, I didn't realise you were attractive, I would have called earlier." He complimented a chuckle in his tone. I giggled as I shook my head. I'm terrible at receiving compliments, they make me awkward but I always accept them.

"Thank you, no one else wanted to fight a wendigo so looks like it's just you and me," I shrugged but he smirked softly.

"Come in," He gestured as he stepped aside to hold the door open for me. I smiled gratefully as I walked in.

Bobby's POV:

I sat back, admiring Y/N's handy work, she's really made hunting easier for everyone and she did it without expecting anyone to thank her. She's amazing. If I was Sam and lost her I'd be devastated. I perked up as the landline rang. I answered with a 'yeah'.

"Hey, Bobby. It's Jacob, you got any books on changelings?" The voice called through the phone. My eyebrows knitted with confusion as I got up to approach the small bookshelf dedicated to changelings.

"Changelings? I thought you were hunting a wendigo, I just sent Y/N to you," I commented, wondering if she had lied.

"No. I don't hunt Wendigo. Y/N called and asked if I wanted to help Jacob F," He explained, my eyes widening and hands sweaty.

"Jacob Francis?" I asked, my voice slightly raised as I realised my mistake.

"Yeah, do you know any other Jacobs?" He asked as if it was a funny topic.

"I have the book but I'll call you back," I explained quickly before hanging up. I tapped away on my phone calling as I tapped my foot anxiously. Come on pick up! As soon as the phone stopped ringing I hurried to speak. "I messed up, drop whatever you're doing and get in the car."

Sam's POV:

My eyebrows knitted with confusion. "What are you on about?" I asked I hadn't spoken to him for months and now he was panicking telling me to leave. Dean lifted his chin as he looked at me confused, silently asking who it was. I pulled my phone away from my ear to put it on speaker. Dean moved closer to listen.

"Sam, I messed up. I sent Y/N to work on a case with Jacob," He explained but I was still confused.

"Is she okay?" I asked worried. How did he mess up?

"Which Jacob?" Dean asked seeming to match Bobby's panic. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched him. He was staring at the phone intently.

"Francis," Bobby's words had barely finished leaving his lips before Dean was on his feet and throwing his things in his duffel bag.

"What's going on?" I asked both of them, the panic completely confusing me. Who's Jacob Francis?

"Where are they?" Dean asked my question going unanswered.

"Michigan, Motel Bear Cove," Dean nodded at his words.

"Should be there tomorrow morning," Dean added but I looked at him confused.

"That's at least two days drive," I commented but Dean didn't stop packing his bag.

"If you drive it is. Pack your stuff, you're wasting time." His tone was demanding. I shook my head, following his instructions. "Thanks for telling us Bobby, we'll let you know when we're there," Dean explained.

I held onto my seat tightly. Dean driving like he was being chased by the police. "Can you slow down?" I asked panicked, the car lifting from the ground as he went over a bump. "Who's Jacob Francis?" I asked but Dean scoffed.

"He's basically me when you were in college," Dean commented but I was still confused. "He can make anyone fall for him, straight guys, gay women. Happily, married old couples fall in love with him." He explained. I looked at him perplexed.

"So, why are we rushing to him?" I asked, the connections not computing yet. He groaned, seemingly thinking I was stupid.

"Bobby's sent Y/N to hunt with him. If she's with him long enough she'll fall in love with him. She'll get over you and he'll break her heart so she'll never want to date again. If she falls for him, you don't stand a chance," He explained quickly, I paused to think. Bobby and Dean still think I have a chance with her? She left me, we hadn't talked since she said goodbye.

"It's been 2 years, she probably hates me," I explained sadly knowing I had given up hope on her.

"Yeah and for 2 years I've been talking to Bobby. She hasn't moved on, she misses you and she only stayed away because she's been helping Bobby. She's turned Bobby's into an intelligence hub for hunters. She's made a whole system and we were working on getting her back into hunting so she can come back to hunt with us but he sent her to Jacob Francis, a man who can get anyone," He rushed to explain, his words took me a while to process.

"She still likes me?" I asked, more to myself than to Dean.

"Yes but not for long if she's alone with him," He explained, it all made sense now. I nodded, jaw clenching. I held onto the chair tighter.

"Can you drive faster?" I asked, Dean smirked beside me before picking up the pace. I already lost Y/N once, I can't lose her again.

Y/N's POV:

I sat eating with Jacob as we looked over the books I brought with me. He moved closer to me on the couch to read the book I was showing him. It confused me a little but didn't mention it, he must be an only child if he doesn't know about personal space. I cleared my throat, shaking my uncomfortable feeling away.

"It can mimic voice, we have to be careful out there and stick together so it can't lure us into a trap," I partially read the extract as I explained. He nodded, looking at me and not the book. I faked a smile but internally groaned.

"Sounds good, no separating starting now," He tried, clearly flirting. I chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, no." I shook my head. "I don't know you, I have my own room at the motel and I am currently your colleague," I explained making it abundantly clear that I was not interested.

"Oh, I wasn't trying anything, I was just making a joke. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," He explained genuinely. I watched his expression confused as I wasn't sure about it. Maybe he was joking and I read it wrong. I swallowed my pride, sighing slightly.

"Sorry, I guess I just read it wrong," I expressed but he smiled, shaking his head.

"It's okay, everyone does it," He smiled reassuringly. I smiled back. His smile turned to a grin before he sighed. "I do want to get to know you thought," He commented. I looked at him confused, a part of me was curious about his meaning, and another part of me thought better. "Maybe we could work a few cases together. As long as you don't have to rush back to the hub," He explained. I looked at him curiously as he looked deep into my eyes. I hesitated. Maybe he was more attractive than I thought. I smiled softly.

"I'll see how you do on this hunt first," I teased, he chuckled as he nodded. I watched as he licked his lips. I tried blinking myself into reality. He smirked seemingly recognising my reaction. I cleared my throat, forcing a smile. "We should get some sleep, big hunt tomorrow," I explained. He nodded agreeing. He walked me to the door, smirking as I turned back to smile at him.

"Goodnight," He commented. I smiled softly.

"Goodnight,"

I got ready for bed, my mind wandering as I considered going to Jacob. I bit my lip as I considered but as I was about to leave my phone rang. I picked it up to see it was Bobby calling. I smiled widely.

"Hey, Bobby," I answered with a bright smile.

"Hey, it's a good sign you answered so quickly." He commented but it confused me. I chuckled softly.

"We haven't even started hunting yet," I explained, figuring he was worried I was dead or injured. We talked for a while, and he let me know how things were going back there but he didn't seem to want to end the call. Any time I explained I was going to hang up he made an excuse to keep talking. I eventually fell asleep on the phone to him.

I woke up to a knocking on my motel room door. I rubbed my eyes as I checked my watch. I stretched, yawning as I wondered if it was Jacob. There's no need to wake me up this early. I approached the door, undoing all the locks and opening the door. My eyes squinted in the bright light behind the figure. My eyes adjusted to look at the hopeful-looking Sam in my doorway. I froze. Why's he here, how did he know I was here? Am I dreaming?

"Sam?" I asked, my mind not believing he was standing in front of me. He smiled brightly.

"Hey," He said simply. I continued looking at him confused. "Can I come in?" He asked, I blinked quickly, still in disbelief. I stepped aside to let him in. He came further into the room, standing in the centre as I looked out the door seeing Dean wasn't waiting to come in. I closed the door and faced him.

"Where's Dean?" I asked curiously but he smiled.

"He's getting us a room," He explained so I nodded taking in the information. "You're not staying with Jacob?" He asked. My eyebrows furrowed as he looked around the room.

"No, how did you know I was here with Jacob? What are you doing here?" I asked annoyance showing in my tone. I don't know why it bothered me but it did.

"Bobby said you might need some help," He shrugged but if that was true he would have mentioned it last night, I sucked my teeth as I thought. I rolled my eyes as it all seemed to click into place.

"I'm being set up," I commented, Sam winced at my words, only confirming it to be true. I nodded as I rolled my eyes, I moved to my bed, grabbing my jumper to put on as it was a little cold and I wasn't comfortable wearing a thin shirt without a bra in front of Sam right now.

"I didn't know until we were on our way," He explained but I was sceptical. I studied him, looking for a hint of a lie but there wasn't one. I sighed, rubbing my forehead as I thought.

"So, either you all don't trust me to be hunting again or you don't trust Jacob with me," I explained. Sam sighed, I have my answer.

"Dean said he's a player and can make anyone fall in love with him," He explained but I scoffed. Annoyed that they don't think I'm strong enough to not fall for his tricks.

"Oh, so you guys don't trust that I have self-control or you don't want me to fall in love with someone," I tried, my tone showing it was a trap. I need to know before making assumptions. Sam sighed recognising my trap. He seemed to fight himself before sighing.

"Y/N, I never stopped missing you, I know without a shadow of a doubt that even before you left I was in love with you, even after 2 years I still love you," He commented, approaching me slightly. Closing the distance between us. My breath hitched in my throat. We had never said the L word. We were barely dating. He licked his lips as he admired me. "If you don't feel the same, I'll walk away. I'll not bother you again and I'll wish you well. But if you love me, even a tiny bit then I'll fight for you," He explained, inching closer before he stopped just in front of me. I gulped. I looked up at him as I thought. He smiled softly. "Even a tiny bit," He repeated, looking deeply into my eyes. My eyes searched his as I knew the answer but didn't know if I had the strength to say it. He watched me closely, looking for a hint of my answer. I gulped, licking my lips as I parted them to speak.

"I-" I tried, my words escaping me. His face showed his worry about my answer. I smiled softly knowing I couldn't get the words out but I could still give him my answer. I reached for the back of his neck, leaning in as I pulled him down to meet our lips in the middle. He seemed relieved as he kissed me back. His lips moved with mine in sync as his hands hurried to hold me. I smiled against his lips, and he chuckled softly as he pulled my body against his.

His tongue graced my lips, soon giving him access and tasting him. We made out, hands hungry as we hoped for this one kiss to make up for lost time. A faint knock on the door interrupted us. We pulled away reluctantly, smiling as we admired each other. No one has ever looked as hot as Sam looks to me. His hands stayed on me as long as possible as I walked to the door. I pulled it up seeing a smiling Dean. I smiled brightly. AHHHHH my best friend!

"There's no blood, must be a good sign," He explained making me chuckle. I grinned widely, hurrying to hug him. He hugged me tightly, picking me up slightly to walk us into the room and closing the door behind him. "Too damn cold," He commented making me chuckle as he let me go. My smile never faded as Sam approached me from behind, he stood beside me, putting his arm over my shoulder making me internally squeal. I couldn't even dream of this moment being any more perfect.

Dean's smile beamed as he watched us. He seemed to celebrate like a teenage girl. Quickly hugging us both into a group hug. I smiled wanting nothing more than to never leave again.

Masterlist

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 15

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement

During the rescuee's first days and weeks in a Safehouse, much of the staff's time will be spent helping them with the most basic aspects of their new lives. Rescuees will need to become accustomed to new schedules, the layout of a home, and emerging group norms around eating, chores, how to spend free time, and interpersonal interaction. As they become accustomed to schedules and more comfortable in the presence of other members of the household, rescuees will begin to need additional things to occupy their time. Safehouse staff members are encouraged to find methods of enrichment and entertainment that can help rescuees develop necessary skills, ideally without causing rescuees to feel that they have been given an assignment or are unwelcome to exercise their own will.*

*In the event that rescuees express a desire for more formal education, your BBLM contacts can assist.

After that first busy week, Angie and Tim realized that they would need to find something to do to keep everyone occupied. Nathan was all but confined to bed or the couch, since standing for long and using crutches could be tiring. Francis remained feverish and bore his considerable pain with a sort of quiet dignity, but they reasoned that he must be bored. Worst of all, poor Mikey was still waiting for their contacts to call with a date and time for his medical treatment.

It had been almost two weeks and Tim and Angie were debating the merits of calling their contacts to make a fuss. Without the surgery he needed, Mikey had very limited use of his hands and arms and difficulty doing things for himself. He couldn't eat, dress, or bathe without assistance and it was hard for him to stand up or to kneel (he still would not consent to sit on the furniture, something Francis seemed to be getting accustomed to since learning that they were free.)

Even worse, Nathan reported that Mikey slept fitfully and sometimes had night terrors; this was also how Angie and Tim learned that Francis got out of bed to care for him. It was sweet, they agreed, but they worried that the interrupted rest was harmful to all three of the rescuees, to say nothing of the damage Francis might be doing by standing and walking.

On good days, Mikey held his head up and looked around the room at whatever was going on, smiled, and could look Francis or Nathan in the eye, though he was still shy around Tim and Angie. He even helped with small tasks when he could, like moving pillows to straighten up the living room, or bringing Angie the loaf of bread when she made sandwiches for lunch.

On bad days, however, Mikey dropped to his knees on his pillow, next to Nathan's spot on the couch, and stared at the floor. They could see dark circles under his eyes and he cradled his arms to his chest, holding them protectively. On those days, he could barely eat and they didn't try to force him, beyond making sure that he had enough in his stomach to safely take painkillers. He simply withdrew into himself and rocked back and forth for hours on end, in terrible pain that they were powerless to ease. Sometimes, they could tell that he was crying, noiselessly and without moving, but leaving small wet spots on the front of his shirt.

Angie had her bright idea on a good day, when the painkillers seemed to be helping a little and Mikey knelt on his pillow listening while Francis and Nathan talked quietly. They were discussing the show that was on television- it was the Great British Bake-Off, which Tim and Angie liked to put on to encourage the rescuees to begin having opinions.

It was scary, they had realized, for Francis to tell them what he wanted to eat for breakfast, or for Mikey to pick out his own clothes. But when they put on Bake-Off, it was almost impossible- even for former Pets- not to have an opinion on the bakes. Angie and Tim had gone into the other room to high-five each other the day Francis had observed, very quietly, "Francis doesn't think that Paul Hollywood is going to like that," and then added, very quietly, almost under his breath, "And Francis doesn't like it, either."

Not surprisingly, Nathan was perfectly comfortable being vocal about his opinion on things that didn't really matter and weren't being done by anyone in the house, especially since the bakers would never hear him. Though he also struggled with expressing that he needed something from Tim or Angie specifically, he was happy to share his thoughts on baking and this encouraged the other rescuees. So, Bake-Off became a regular fixture in their routine.

It was during an episode of Bake-Off that Angie noticed Mikey sit up a little straighter and peer curiously at the screen. He turned to Nathan and raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth from the screen to his friend. He cocked his head slightly, the signal that he had a question.

"What are they doing with their hands?" Nathan asked. Mikey nodded.

"That's sign language," he explained. "She's deaf, so that guy is interpreting for her- telling her what everyone else is saying while they say it."

Mikey still looked intrigued. His eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted.

"Yeah, presumably everything," Nathan said. "Are they allowed to leave stuff out?"

"I don't think so," Angie said, without thinking about it. "I think a good interpreter is, like, legally required to interpret everything that's said."

They fell silent again until, after a moment, the idea dawned on Angie like a new day. "Mikey," she exclaimed, forgetting for a moment the calm demeanor she was usually careful to wear in front of the rescuees, so as not to startle them. "You could do that!"

He looked up in her direction, the closest he had come to looking her in the eye.

As the first shock of realization wore off, Angie immediately began to worry that she was being pushy or asking too much, damaged as his own hands were. "I mean, you don't have to. But if we all learned some signs, you might be able to- well, not talk, but..."

Mikey still couldn't look at her, but his eyes were sparkling and there was a definite upward tilt to the corners of his mouth.

"What do you think?" Nathan asked, in case Mikey would be more comfortable having an opinion if it was Nathan he had to communicate with.

Mikey's eyes darted down to his hands, over to the television, and then up to Nathan, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Nathan replied. "Even with your hands. I mean, you could start learning and we'll know what it looks like when you sign something. And then when your hands are better maybe it'll be easier to sign and you'll already know how, a little bit." Mikey thought for a moment, then actually smiled and nodded and Angie could cheerfully have cried.

But she held herself together and they finished the episode- stopping in the middle seemed unkind, as entranced as they all were.

"Think you're ready to start learning?" Angie asked Mikey when the star baker had been announced and the credits had begun to roll. He looked shy and she knew she wasn't going to get a direct response. "Well... let's try it."

It was as simple as searching for a video and picking one that looked like it began at the very beginning. It took them a moment to remember that, of course, there didn't need to be sound in this video, though the enthusiastic young man on camera had provided subtitles for hearing audiences. For Francis' sake, Tim read them aloud while their teacher began the lesson.

By the end of the video, they had all practiced basic greetings and when the next video autoplayed, they let it go. By the time Tim stood up to cook, they had watched the first four videos in the series.

After dinner they didn't go right back to learning, but Mikey continued to practice, moving through his new vocabulary as best he could. When Angie fed him, he signed thank you and when they went upstairs he wished them all good night for the first time.

It was immediately clear that the ability to sign, even painfully and inaccurately, using only his right hand, was important to Mikey. He couldn't seem to get enough of learning and practiced vocabulary as best he could until he was visibly shaking with the effort and they had to turn the videos off to keep him from hurting himself. Even then, he insisted on signing thank you and This pet is grateful whenever anything was done for him.

Angie almost regretted that they had learned the sign "pet" at all, but even though he signed like Francis talked, Mikey almost shone with the pleasure of being able to communicate again. Angie couldn't bring herself to ask what had happened to his voice, knowing that it couldn't be good, and tried to be content instead with the joy that signing brought him.

Not all days were good days, however.

It was a week after they began learning to sign that Mikey tripped- over a spot in the rug, they decided later, nothing that they could have foreseen and fixed. He had simply stepped oddly and lost his balance and went down before Tim or Angie could have gotten across the room to catch him.

He caught himself primarily on his right arm, which was better than the alternative, but he hit the ground full-length and there was a long moment in which all four of his housemates stared at him in horrified shock as he lay stretched across the middle of the room.

Then Angie and Tim finally snapped back to themselves and leapt up to crouch on either side of him. Tim began examining his right arm for signs of additional damage, speaking softly in a voice that he was clearly working to control.

Nathan was almost writhing where he sat, desperate but unable to go to his friend; it was Francis who rose, a little more slowly than Tim and Angie had. His training as a Pet kicked in and he barely winced as he put weight on his feet and walked the few tentative steps to drop to his knees by Mikey's head.

Mikey's eyes were squeezed closed when Francis knelt and smoothed his hand over Mikey's furrowed forehead. Mikey looked like he wanted to cry out, but couldn't. He twisted his head from side to side, cradled in Francis' hands.

"I don't think there's any new damage," Tim said at last. His voice was thin and dry and he looked anxiously across at Angie.

"Good," she said, sounding no better. "But we have to call them. They have to do something."

"Yeah." Tim took a deep breath and turned back to his patient. "But let's get him comfortable. Then you can call and rip somebody a new one." He smiled very thinly at her, with no humor in his face at all.

Their first attempt to help Mikey up failed spectacularly. Tim and Angie slid their arms under his back and began to lift him, as gently as they knew how, but his eyes fluttered and closed and he sagged bonelessly in their arms as he fainted.

The second time, they managed to get him sitting up, propped forward with his legs splayed out in front of him. His eyes were unfocused as if he was very dizzy and he was trembling all over. He had his arms back in that protective position and when he began to rock in his usual self-soothing habit, Francis put a steadying arm around him to keep him from falling over again. Mikey's eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Straight up to bed, I think," Tim said. "Just get it over with and then let him stay there as long as he needs. It'll be better that way."

On the third attempt, they at last got Mikey swaying to his feet and linked their arms around him to guide him to the stairs. He had his feet under him somewhat by then and although it felt like a longer climb than usual, he was able to support himself.

In the room, Tim and Angie helped Mikey stretch out in bed, propped up with pillows under his elbows to support his arms, which lay across his stomach. They took turns sitting by the bed; they couldn't leave him alone in case there was anything at all he needed. At dinner time, he was unable to eat and simply sat very still, staring blankly across the room. Angie had to make a real effort not to cry; Mikey had been doing so well, even getting a few words back, and now, for the moment, it was as if none of that progress had ever taken place.

She would call someone and make them schedule time for him in the hospital. She would do whatever it took- there had a to be a story they could tell, some lie that would explain why he had no ID and couldn't speak, and the awful injuries they would need to treat...

Later. She would deal with it when Mikey was asleep.

When Francis and Nathan came up to bed, they found Mikey sitting as he had all the rest of that day, looking horribly sick, pale and blank-faced from the suffering he had been trained to endure silently. Nathan limped over to the bed, shuffling as close as he could, and gently ruffled Mikey's hair.

"Sorry, buddy," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." Mikey's eyes flicked in his direction, but his expression did not change and his hands did not move.

Francis, too, was watching Mikey with such sorrow in his eyes that Tim, who was helping him to bed, carried Francis over. Wordlessly, Francis put a hand out and smoothed Mikey's hair, stroking it a few times before nodding to Tim. Tim laid him in bed and pulled the blanket up for him, but all four of them were still watching Mikey.

Once Tim and Angie had done all they could to make Mikey comfortable, he at last closed his eyes and they left the room, pulling the door quietly shut behind them.

"I'm going to make a phone call," Angie said, looking very determined. Tim nodded.

"It's time."

Next time: They finally get the call Mikey has been waiting for, possibly because Angie bullied someone.

Master List

Notes: @whumpsday was kind enough to let me know that a couple of the tags weren't working. Hopefully they're fixed now- at least, when I hover over them, I get the little drop-down that would take me to your blogs, so I'm optimistic? If not and you have any suggestions for what I might be doing wrong, let me know and I'll do my best to correct it!

As Mikey is not d/Deaf, nor is anyone in the Safehouse, he's not familiar with Deaf culture and is more using Signed English than an actual, grammatically correct sign language. His dialogue will be in italics to connote that it's signed, rather than spoken. Pursuant to a little research, this will change as he becomes more fluent and graduates to expressing himself in full sentences. Though cursory research doesn’t turn up total consensus on whether italics are rude, the d/Deaf authors whose advice I found in my google search seem in agreement that ordinary dialogue markers are always fine. To be safe, I’ll go with the option I can most guarantee is polite!

Also, forgetting that signed videos don't need sounds is 100% something that happened in my high school ASL class (not to me). Our teacher said there was someone every year who said they turned the volume all the way up but nothing happened!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

[hoonzsn]

LAST LOVE — “i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember.”

✦ SYNOPSIS — in which two close friends say their hidden feelings for each other at a supposed hangout.

PAIRING ୧˚ — best friends to lovers, mutual pining — jungwon x reader.

GENRE *ೃ — pure fluff, comedy (ish), oneshot

WARNINGS ｡˚ — slight cursing

WORD COUNT . ୭ — 1128

SONGS ⋆.࿔ — is it over now - taylor swift, get you - daniel ceaser, kali uchis, perfect night - lesserafim, cool with you - new jeans, hurt - new jeans, what you heard - sonder, a night to remember - laufey, beabadoobee, night train - milena, seasons - wave to earth, les - childish gambino, la leçon particulière — francis lai, christen gaubert, could’ve been - h.e.r, bryson tiller, blue - the neighbourhood, void - the neighbourhood , west coast - lana del rey

TAGLIST ₊⊹ — @ohsjy

The beach ripples crashed softly against the white sand, causing each time it did so to make a light “splish” sound. The comforting aura caused him to walk closer to the scenery, his mind racing to someone special as he did so.

The moon ever so slightly shone on the ocean, the darkest of the gloomy blue water suddenly turning into a majestic silver field. The specks of silver sparkles on the sea, catching his attention.

With every step closer he took toward the mesmerizing scenery, he wished more and more for her company. A low and deep breath left his lips. He contemplated whether he should call her and invite her, or just leave it be.

A few moments of complete silence went by before he slowly took out his phone from the pocket of his jacket. His cat-like eyes scrolled up and down in search of the contact he had saved her number with. Freezing as he found it.

It was never like this.

He never knew he’d feel overwhelmed by calling his closest friend over to the beach. Although he did feel nervous around her sometimes, but that was explainable, right? Of course, he had to try and ruin their friendship of five years due to his stupid crush.

But that is what jungwon does. He had to let it out, tell her how he felt whenever he saw her flirting with some other boy who wasn’t him. He wanted her to at least know, whether it be she had the same feelings for him or if it was merely to let her understand how he felt about her.

His finger lingered a slight moment on top of the call button, pressing it after a little while. As he heard the line ring for a few seconds, he could hear someone picking it up and answering it with a short and confused “hello?”

Clearing his throat, jungwon answered back, internally face palming as a stutter left his lips. “Hey”

A smile tugging on his delicate lips, yet knowing she couldn’t see him. “Are you free tonight?” he nervously inquired, thinking about the multiple replies she could give him.

His cat-like eyes widened in surprise as he immediately got the response he’d been wanting from the girl on the other line. “No, im free. Why?” Hearing those words come from her made his smile grow bigger.

“Oh, I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out.” His lips parted in hesitation before continuing what he was about to say. “I need to tell you something.” A few moments went by before he could hear slight shuffling coming from the other line.

“Yeah, sure, where should I meet you?” She asked back, putting on her zip-up sweater as she did so.

He thought for a few moments before speaking. “I’m at the beach right now, but I can come to your place.”

Earning a light giggle from her side. He could feel a slight blush rise on his cheek due to the melodic sound. “Alright won, I’ll see you then.”

The walk to her home was quite short since she lived relatively near the beach. Causing Jungwon to be more excited than usual to see her.

As he saw the familiar house in front of him, he came to a stop. Seeing the girl already waiting for him in front of the gates. He walked in front of her, watching her as she looked intently at the device in her hands, mumbling some incoherent words every few seconds.

“What are you doing?” he asked once he stood in front of her, causing the girl to curse in surprise.

“What the fuck! You scared me” Her startled expression made his smile form again, the deep dimples on each side of his porcelain cheeks visible as day. Earning a smile from her too.

“Sorry, not sorry” He chuckled, causing her to roll her eyes and lightly hit his arm. A slight frown appeared on his lips as she did so, making her hang her arm around his neck.

“Let’s go, hm?” she started roaming the dark streets with the company of the boy beside her.

Once they were finally back, both of them had each of their ice creams as he’d bought them on the way back. They enjoyed their little treat quietly as they walked back.

Jungwon's eyes ever so slightly gazed at her as she was enjoying the ice cream he’d bought her. Her eyes looked straight ahead as they crinkled up due to the grin plastered on her lips while watching the ocean water crash against the white sand.

“So…” she started, looking at him now. “What did you want to tell me?” Her head tilted to the side, noticing that his breath had hitched.

“Um..” thinking for a short while, jungwon decided not to tell her, as he was too afraid of all the possibilities of her reaction.

A frown formed on the girl's lips after he said so, her eyes squinting at him in an intimidating manner. “Tell me won, come on.” She whined, trying to get a response out of him.

His brown, shiny eyes lowered to look down at his feet caressing the beach sand with his shoes, before mumbling out some incoherent words she could quite frankly not make out.

Confusedly, she had tilted her head to the side watching as his lips were continuously moving yet she could barely make out a word. “What did you say?”

Watching him as he slowly shifted his attention from the ground to her, she furrowed her brows together.

“jungwon, what did you say-“ Her words got cut off, by the loud tone of the guy in front of her.

“I love you.” His eyes lingered on hers, watching in anticipation of what she would do next, not daring to let out a breath due to the tension between them.

The air between them became suffocating as he watched her chest slowly heave up and down. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden confession.

“I have loved you for as long as I can remember, yn,” he added to it, slowly moving closer to her as he gently tried to hold her hand, still not getting a response. As he slowly starts getting more anxious by the second, he suddenly lets all his feelings out to her.

“It makes me go insane whenever I see you with some other guy that’s not me, and I know I don't have the right to, but,—” Without a moment to think, he could feel her soft lips collide with his, gently moving together in sync.

Slowly pulling away, she looked at him, a smile already evident on her lips.

“I love you too won.”

AUTHOR NOTE; im alive bbgs!!! wow what can i say… my first oneshot that i finished😭 are u guys proud😏 ANYWAYS IM KINDA PROUD OF THISS its cute 🥰 if u guys have any scenarios or any specific like oneshots u guys want me to make just message me or say them here and i’ll be sure to make them!!! <33 also tysm for 54 followers thats literally crazy ALSO I DIDNT FORGET ABOUT PICKY PICKY AND SHRIEK.. im working on themmm i’ll do my best to hurry!!! so for now you guys are getting shorter oneshots and scenarios😏

[atom-writings]

what about hetalia main 8 react to walking in on you changing or something? u dont have to do it if u dont want to ofc and it doesnt have to have any actual nsfw stuff

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) Walking in on you changing!

(Gender Neutral) Scenarios ~ A/N ohohohoOHOHOHO,,,,,,.,. <- sorry what who was that guy haha im normal im so normal about this

Trigger Warning: Kind of suggestive content, but NOT NSFW!!! Swearing. Fem nickname used one, fem descriptor used once.

“Babe, I was wondering-” Alfred said as he opened the door to your bedroom,

“WAIT- WAIT!” You yelp in response, running to stop the door.

Upon hearing your cry, he looks up from his phone. Then, he freezes in place, his eyes wide as saucers. Awkwardly, he tries to sputter out some kind of response, doing nothing but making extremely intense eye contact with you.

Until he breaks, his eyes darting down to your partially unclothed body for no more than a second.

“ALFRED!”

“You look absolutely smoking, I gotta say-” he says, trying to hold back giggles before you growl loudly in response.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He yells back, frantically backing out of the doorway. You run forward, slamming the door in his face. With your back against the door, you breathe a sigh of relief before he begins knocking on the door.

“W-Wait, I had something to show you!”

“You lost the privilege to see me!”“Aw, man…” You hear Alfred say as he walks away, probably pouting like a little kid.

“Darling, are you done yet?”  Arthur asks, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Arthur-” You start to respond, before he begins opening the door, “WAIT!”

You run to the bed, trying to grab a blanket to cover yourself with. But all that really did was leave you in perfect view, only wearing your undergarments. You jerked awkwardly to look at the door, only to see Arthur there, frozen in shock.

His mouth agape, his face flushed, and his eyes firmly locked onto your body. Your heart dropped.

“Wh-what the hell?!” You yell, to no response. Heat rises to your cheeks as you see his hungry eyes still not leaving your form.

“ARTHUR!”

“Huh?” He responds, clearly not paying attention to what you said.

“GET OUT!” 

“Hold on, wha-what?” He finally comes to, looking up into your eyes. Clearly, he still wasn’t listening.

“I said to GET OUT! I’m changing for fuck’s sake!” Your voice filled with anger.

“Right. Right, yes. I’m- I’ll do that.” He looks at you with a scared expression, backing out of the room awkwardly.

“I-I’m sorry for staring, love!” You hear him yell through the door moments later, clearly panicked.

“Shut it, perv!”

Before you could even react, Francis burst into your room. You froze, still in the process of taking off your shirt.

“My love!” He gestures dramatically, his eyes closed for effect, “I ju- oh.”

When he lays eyes on your body, his face drops. You just stared into his eyes awkwardly, as his expression changes to a wide smile.

“Well, aren’t you such an attractive little thing!” he remarks, slowing walking towards you.

“F-Francis!” You shoot back in disbelief,

“What? It’s just your body!”

“Y-YEAH! Get out already!”

“Come on, I’m not judging you!” He tries to lay a hand on your waist, before you push him away.

“Francis, for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, alright! If it bothers you that much…” He looks disappointed as he turns away, exiting your room. You sigh exasperatedly before you’re interrupted by him peaking him head back in quickly. Although at least this time, his eyes are closed.

“Don’t be ashamed of your body, Y/N!”

“I told you to get out!”

“And I’m telling you I just finished dinner!”

“Coming in!” Yao announces, not waiting for a response before he opens the door to your bedroom.

“ONE MINUTE! W-WAIT!” You try to stop him, running to grab the door handle. But you stop just in time to come up to him, nearly touching noses. His eyes widen for a second in surprise, before returning to his usual distant stare.

With that stare, he slowly looked you up and down. Wearing nothing but your undergarments, you began to blush, at a loss for words.

“Cute,” he remarks simply, returning to look you in your bewildered eyes.

“Anyway. Your show is about to be on. Don’t take too long,” he says before shutting the door, still with a relatively blank expression. Leaving you there, wearing next to nothing, still wildly flushed.

What the hell was that?

Before you could even react, you heard your bedroom door opening from behind you. You struggled to turn around, your pants bunched around your legs. But before you could see who it was, you heard a loud familiar yelp.

In only a few seconds, you saw Ivan slap his hands over his face, clearly blushing bright red.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything!” He stuttered out, frantically exiting the room. Barely even giving you time to process the exchange.

-

“Ivan?” You ask quietly from behind him, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Y-yes?” He turns around to face you, but he desperately searches for anything in the room to look at.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, you know.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I promise-”

“It’s fine!”

“N-no! I do not want to make you uncomfortable!” He pleads as you place a hand gently on his arm.

“We’re dating, it’s awkward but it’s fine, promise.”

“If… if you say so.” He relaxes slightly.

“Now can we move on?”“Yes! But-but… um… one thing.  You’re… really pretty.” Ivan says, taking your hand in his, still blushing.

“Belllaaaaaa~” Feliciano calls, bursting into your room without even a second’s warning. And because of that absence of warning, he was immediately greeted with the sight of you, with absolutely no semblance of a top on.

As you spun around to yell at him, he immediately ran up to you. Taking your hands in his like he had done absolutely nothing wrong, he smiled.

“You look so absolutely perfect today!” He gushes, tucking a hair behind your ear as you lean away from him in surprise.

“F-Feliciano?!”  You struggle to sputter out.

“What? What is it, my love?”

“I- Uh, wh-what?” You stutter in disbelief.

“Huh?”

“Get out! I’m changing! Can’t you see that?!”

“Yeah, but why does that matter?” He cocks his head to the side questioningly.

“Get out!”

“But bella-”

“Feliciano!” You yell. His face drops, looking like a kicked puppy. He starts walking towards the door, before turning to face you again.

“Can’t I see you like that?”

“NOT NOW!”

“F-Fine!” He responds as shuffles awkwardly out the door.

“Can I come in?” Ludwig asks as he knocks on your bedroom door.

“W-Wait!” 

“Alright, so-” he continues, opening the door to see you, with only a pair of sweatpants on. 

As you yell in surprise, he yells back, just as loud. Immediately, his face flushes and he slaps his hand over his eyes. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Y/N!” His voice strains.

“I told you to wait!”

“I didn’t hear!  I t-thought you were done!”

“HOW?!”

“I’m sorry!” Ludwig yells, clearly incredibly embarrassed as his face continues to grow more red. He fumbles behind him with one hand, trying to open the door while his other hand is still clasped over his eyes.

“I only saw for a second! I promise!”

You groan, “A little more to the left,”

He finally grasps the door handle, desperately opening the door and running out.

“Dear, I promise I didn’t mean to!” He yells through the door.

“I GOT THAT!”

You shot around, mid-taking off your pants, as you heard your door knob turn. 

“Hold o-” Before you could even tell him to wait, Kiku opened the door, just to see you barely clothed. With no sound between you, he froze, his eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

“I…  um-” you start to say before he slowly backs out of the doorway, his eyes still locked on your body. His face was flush, nearly as red as a tomato, yet he said absolutely nothing as he left the room. 

-

“You want to talk about you walking in on me?” You ask, sitting down next to him hours later. The moment you bring it up, his face turns red once again and he begins sitting awkwardly.

“I’m very, very sorry.” He responds quietly, bringing his book up closer to his face. 

“I- it’s ok… but do you not knock usually?”

“I didn’t think you were doing anything…”

“Well, I was, so from now on…  please knock.” He nods slowly, still not looking you in the eyes. 

He pauses for a few seconds, “You look very nice…”

“KIKU!”

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 7! Part 1

So, Alfred and Matthew made a successful switcheroo and are now living with their other respective dads. The first few days for both of them just pass in a whirlwind of new experiences: new sights, new sounds, new smells, new surroundings. Alfred and Mattie struggle to take it all in, but in a good way. And, of course, at the centre of it all is Francis and Arthur. It’s tricky being around them because the twins want to get to know them so badly but they can’t act like it because that would be weird. Alfred in particular has to dash out of the house to go run around with Mr. Kumajiro a couple of times because the need was getting too much. Francis notices “Mattie” has become more energetic, but accepts Alfred’s excuse that he got really into sports at camp. It’s not such a stretch since Matthew has always been outdoorsy anyway and Francis puts it down to his little boy growing up. Wine, misty eyes, and a long purusing of their family photo album once Alfred has gone to bed that night. Francis may be a suburban dad now with a mortgage and PTA meetings, but he sees no point in life if one can’t be dramatic every once in a while ;)

Then, Summer is over, and the twins have to go back to school. Alfred to Matthew’s fancy private school, and Matthew to Alfred’s normal NYC public school. Alfred puts on his uniform (urgh, monkey suit! Didn’t his dad used to wear something like this?) and is surprised when Francis drives him to school rather than let him walk or get the bus. The school is pretty close, but Francis does it anyway. He’s chill about things like Alfred’s earring, but then pivots and is overprotective about stuff like Matthew getting to school alone. Weird. Meanwhile, Mattie braces himself for the journey on the subway. Arthur is generally stricter than Francis, but he trusts “Alfred” to make his own way to school right through the heart of New York? Weird.

School for both of them goes about as well as it could. Alfred has a lot of friends and Mattie is immediately swept up in their hustle and bustle. Acting up in class pains him, but he has to do it to maintain the illusion. Alfred isn’t a bad kid, but he is a loud and energetic one. Matthew does his best (cringing inside) but his teachers still comment on his good behaviour. Mattie is worried…until he goes home and sees how pleased Arthur is. The teacher messaged him and Arthur couldn’t be prouder “Alfred” is taking school more seriously. Mattie can’t feel too bad about it then. Not after seeing his dad smile. Until Arthur bakes them some cakes to celebrate.

It’s a curse, Mattie thinks to himself as he struggles to chew through the charcoal without his eyes watering. A satanic curse. It must be, eh?

Meanwhile, Alfred does his best to keep up his Mattie act in his new “ooh, la, la” (his words) private school environment. Matthew is a model student, behaviour wise, and warned Alfred that he can’t get in trouble even a little or people will suspect. This is not easy for Alfred. Even less because Matthew is also a loner, so he has noone to help distract him from the boredom. It’s not that the other kids dislike Matthew, rather they just don’t seem to notice him. The teachers appreciate how well behaved he is but they also tend to forget he exists. Again, extremely not easy for extroverted, vivacious Alfred. He can’t keep his exuberance fully under control and it’s a shocker moment for the class when their geography teacher has to tell Matthew Bonnefoy to pay attention for the first time ever(!) Haha, oops. At least they didn’t call Francis. Yet.

The twins have kept in contact and message each other frequently for hints and tips, and (in Alfred’s case) reminders about French vocabulary. They have a long talk about school after the first week and Mattie is irritated and stung when Alfred thoughtlessly comments on his lack of friends. Matthew snipes back about how happy Arthur was when the teacher complimented “Alfred” on his behaviour. Something which gets to Alfred more than he likes to admit. The boys end their talk early that night and both go to bed feeling ruffled.

The next morning when Matthew wakes up, he comes down to breakfast (🥲) as usual. Only to freeze in the kitchen doorway when he sees who’s making it. Arthur is sitting at the table, reading the paper news he still refuses to trade in for an app. At the stove, cooking omlettes that actually smell good, is:

“Buenos días, Al! You want two eggs or three?”

Mattie recognizes the handsone spaniard from the pictures Alfred showed him. His work trip done, Tony is back.

(Life has been busy so here’s a shorter update. Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for part 8 (´ε｀ )♡)

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

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

Drake: "That was close. We almost got swept away."

His outstretched hand reached for the oar right next to me.

(Was he just trying to grab the oar?)

My heart was pounding with embarrassment from the sudden closeness. Drake, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind and kept his gaze forward.

Drake: “There’s a fork in the road. Which way do we go, Captain?”

Mitsuki: “Huh? I’m the captain?”

Drake: “Whoever’s wearing that hat is the captain. Now, tell me where you want to go.”

I chuckled in response to his mischievous smile and pointed to one of the two diverging paths in the river.

Mitsuki: “Then, full starboard toward that route!”

Drake: “Yes, Your Majesty. As you wish."

I gave the order as a captain does, and he maneuvered the oar skillfully.

The boat quickly gained speed, and the cool breeze on the water gently brushed against us. Before we knew it, the sky had turned red.

Drake: "Watch your step, Mitsuki."

Mitsuki: "Okay. Whoops!"

I grabbed his outstretched hand as we docked the boat by the shore and stepped out.

Mitsuki: “Today was so much fun! Paris looked kind of different than usual today.”

Drake: “That’s what matters most. I’ll consider your smile as my payment.”

Mitsuki: “Are you sure? Thank you. I’ll come back for another ride sometime.”

Mitsuki: "And one more thing, thank you. You made my worries go away."

Drake: "Hm? I just spoke my mind."

He said it as if it were nothing, but the lingering unease in my heart disappeared, leaving me feeling refreshed.

(Even though he just arrived here, he managed to cheer me up.)

Mitsuki: "Hey, Drake. If you ever start missing your world, don't hesitate to talk about it."

Mitsuki: "If you're okay with me, I'll listen as much as you want."

(I want to hear more about him.)

In addition to the desire to help him, a budding curiosity to get to know him better began to grow.

He slightly widened his eyes at my words.

Drake: "Thanks, little fawn, but it won't come to that."

Drake: "I don't have a place to miss or a place to return to."

(Huh?)

His words were so straightforward that I looked back at him.

Drake: "I'm fine with being a flying Dutchman."

(A flying Dutchman?)

Drake: "It's a tale of a man who endlessly roams the sea for eternity."

I tilted my head, wondering what he meant, and he responded with a sarcastic smile.

Then, suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached.

Mitsuki: "Whoa!"

Drake: "Whoops."

Suddenly, my body shook with a thud.

I almost fell, but Drake quickly supported me.

Mitsuki: "Thanks. Huh?"

I looked down and saw a girl sitting on her butt beside me.

Mitsuki: "Did I bump into you? Sorry, are you okay?"

Girl: "I'm fine."

I held out my hand, but the girl replied bluntly, stood up without making eye contact, and immediately tried to turn on her heel.

Drake: "Hold up."

Girl: "----!"

Drake reached out and caught the girl's arm, and there, in her hand, was my wallet.

(Huh? When did she...?)

Drake: "I knew it. I thought something like this would happen."

Girl: "Let go!"

The girl glared at him and began to struggle.

I looked at her closely and saw that her clothes were full of patches, and her hands and feet were so thin.

Drake: "Well, what should we do? What happens if we hand her over to the authorities in this era? Hanging?"

Mitsuki: "She's not a pirate, so I don't think it'll go that far!"

Girl: "I said let go!"

Drake: "Oww!"

The girl bit his hand and bolted away from the scene like a stray cat.

Drake: "Sorry, she got away. We got your wallet back, so that's good, right?"

Mitsuki: "It's more than enough. Thanks, Drake. I didn't notice at all."

Drake: "Well, I understand. I did similar things to survive when I was a kid."

That girl had the eyes of a lone wild animal.

I wonder if he had the same eyes as a child.

Mitsuki: “What kind of child were you?”

Drake: “I was the textbook troublemaker. I stole, I fought. Looking back now, I had all the qualities of a pirate.”

Drake: “Until I got picked up by a pirate ship, I had nowhere to go.”

His tone hinted at a lonely past.

(There must have been circumstances that forced him to do that.)

I hesitated to delve deeper into the topic and didn’t press further.

Drake: “That kid from earlier seems pretty experienced.”

Drake: “Compared to when I was alive, this 19th-century Paris is relatively peaceful.”

Drake: “But it seems like no matter the era, there’s always a gap between the rich and the poor.”

Mitsuki: “You’re right. Even in my time, the 21st century, it hasn’t been resolved.”

(But to think that a child about that age is pick-pocketing on a daily basis...)

The harsh reality weighed on my chest.

Mitsuki: “I wonder if that girl has a family.”

Drake: “........”

(Drake?)

Drake: “Even if she does, having blood ties doesn’t necessarily mean having a good family.”

His mumbled words sounded cold and slightly lonely.

I wanted to know more about Drake.

That feeling began to sprout that day.

One morning...

(I wonder if he’s working now.)

I reminisced about our time on the Seine River while doing some gardening.

(Given his personality, he’d probably gain more customers.)

(But it might be a shame if he gets used to his job. I kind of like his clumsy boat tour.)

Chuckling at the thought, a piece of white paper suddenly flew before me.

I picked it up from the ground and saw that the paper had musical notes written on it.

(This is sheet music. Did it fly over from Mozart’s music room?)

I gathered the scattered sheets to deliver them and suddenly noticed a title written on one of them.

(The Flying Dutchman?)

(Is this the story Drake mentioned the other day?)

When I delivered the sheet music to the piano room, Mozart counted the number of sheets and neatly arranged the paper.

Mozart: "Thank you. I opened the window to get some fresh air, but the papers got blown away."

Mozart: "I'm glad you were the one who picked it up. If it were Dazai or Arthur, I'd have unpleasant memories associated with this piece."

(He's as strict as ever.)

I chuckled and asked Mozart.

Mitsuki: "Is this piece called 'The Flying Dutchman'?"

Mozart: "Yeah, it's an opera composed by Richard Wagner."

Mozart: "Music evolves with time. I wanted to try listening to various compositions by other musicians, so I ordered the sheet music."

Mitsuki: “Sounds intriguing. What’s the opera about?”

Mozart: “It’s the tale of the legend of the flying Dutchman. Originally, it was a story passed down among sailors.”

(The Flying Dutchman.)

According to the legend that Mozart told me, long ago, a certain Dutch captain was caught in a fierce storm during a voyage.

The captain, defying the pleas of his crew to stop, forcefully sailed the ship onward, shouting defiantly towards the heavens.

『 I will sail on through the storm. Not even God or the Devil can stop me! 』

Mozart: “He was cursed to never die and condemned to wander the seas alone forever.”

Mozart: “That’s the story.”

Mozart quietly concluded the legend.

(Forever alone. That’s kind of lonely.)

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

Drake: "I don't have a place to miss or a place to return to."

Drake: "I'm fine with being a flying Dutchman."

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

(Is Drake comparing himself to that captain?)

(I don’t really know what he means, but to him, being resurrected without his own will probably feels like an eternal voyage.)

Even so, the idea of endlessly wandering the sea alone felt quite lonely.

As I was thinking about it and feeling sad, Mozart spoke again.

Mozart: “The legend ends there, but the opera tells the story that comes after.”

Mitsuki: “What comes next?”

Mozart: “A tale of redemption of the soul and eternal love.”

The only way to break the curse of the captain, who had become immortal, was to find a fated maiden who would pledge eternal love.

Every seven years, the captain was allowed to land in the harbor. On one such day, the captain finally encountered a maiden and made a promise of marriage.

However, due to a misunderstanding, the captain believed he had been betrayed by the maiden and set sail in despair. The maiden, filled with sorrow, threw herself into the sea as a pledge of her love for him.

Mozart: “The maiden’s sacrifice resulted in the curse being lifted, freeing him from his eternal voyage. Then, their souls ascended from the sea to the heavens.”

Mozart: “That is the story depicted in the opera.”

Mitsuki: “Realistically, it may seem hopeless, but it’s a happy ending for them.”

(If the captain could’ve just trusted the maiden, they might’ve had a shot at being happy together.)

The maiden became his refuge as he wandered through eternity.

Mozart: “That was quite a long story. But it’s rare for you to take an interest in opera.”

Mitsuki: “I was curious because Drake mentioned The Flying Dutchman.”

Mozart: “I see. This opera was composed in the 19th century, so Drake probably knows the legend rather than the actual opera.”

Mozart: “Considering that he lived in the same era but didn’t even bother with Shakespeare’s plays, I doubt he’d be interested in it.”

While making these somewhat sarcastic remarks, Mozart sighed lightly.

Mozart: “By the way, can you tell Drake something for me?”

Mozart: “I’m not playing the piano for the sake of your sleep. Sleeping in front of the piano room is strictly prohibited.”

Mitsuki: “Hehe, got it. I’ll pass on the message.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Drake easily falling asleep and Mozart playing the piano for him.

That night, at a late hour, when the birds and trees were quiet一

Drake: “.........”

Drake looked up at the crescent moon floating in the night sky from the mansion’s garden.

Drake: "The moon will disappear tomorrow."

Drake mumbled this and left the garden with his cloak fluttering, disappearing into the forest surrounding the mansion.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[hoe4wesanderson]

hi, it’s me again. just wanted to say that i love your blog almost as much as i love wes movies; you make such insightful comments on each of the characters i can’t even believe it.

anyway, please could you write something for jack whitman? maybe something where him and reader meet on the train in india and have a cute little love affair? thanks!! <3

Elk Cracker—Jack Whitman x reader

summary: Jack finds you crying on the train, all alone. Love pursues.

a/n:..um brother I am SO sorry this took me like 7 months to write, I got logged out of this account and I couldn’t be assed logging back in. forgive me pookie. anywayyyy I hope the 10 people this will please love it!

warnings: his gf doesn’t exist or Rita( SORRRYYYYY), it’s pretty soft, talk about jacking off, crying, love, making out, Jack is as accurate as I could get him without being a creep, just flufff (for now), they get freaky at the end presumably, they just just met so it’s a tad awkward.

word count: 1.5k

The night was cold and the train was even colder, Jack was contemplating the meaning of his stupid life while looking out the window. Peter was munching on a cracker like a hungry elk, and Francis was.. jack hadn’t actually seen him for a while now he thought of it. Not that he cared, he was honestly itching for a release. A sweet, American-..

“I’m getting some air, alone.” Peters soft, slightly pissed off, voice mumbled as he stood up to leave. Jack nodded and hid a smile, this was perfect. He had the carriage to himself, perfect time to jack off a bit and free some stress.

The man reached down to unzip his fly, he didn’t even bother glancing around to see if anybody was watching. He figured the absolute nut job tourists around here could use a good show, might do them some good. Jack wasn’t even hard yet, it was pathetic and he knew it, but he was a man after all. So he pulled down his boxers.

But before jack could get to helping himself out he heard something that caught his mind, a soft sobbing. He cocked his head back in surprise, who the hell was crying at 2 in the morning? He swallowed his lust and zipped up his pants. This would have to wait.—

Jack made his was towards the soft cries, rubbing his groggy eyes as he passed shirtless old tourists. Why was nobody else concerned about this? He sighed as he walked, silently hoping he didn’t run into Francis or Peter. Jack made his way to the very end of the carriage. He was confused, where the hell were these sobs coming from?

He turned his head and that’s when he saw the suspect, you. You were leaning against the wall, crying your eyes out as you held yourself in a ball. Jack stared for a few seconds as he bit back the urge to take a photo.

This was poetic gold. He pretended to bump into something, sighing and reaching down to grab what he had dropped. You had only noticed him just then, like he had planned. Your eyes widened and you were quick to wipe away your tears, looking the exact opposite way. Jack stared awkwardly before clearing his throat.

“You uh..you’re crying.” He pointed out bluntly, looking at you.

You stared up at Jack, your cheeks flushing slightly from the embarrassment of being caught. “Oh, um, I didn’t mean for anyone to see…” Your voice trailed off as you fumbled with your sleeves, trying to hide the redness in your eyes.

Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to proceed. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, his voice a bit hesitant. “I just heard, um, crying and thought maybe… I don’t know, maybe you needed someone to talk to?”

You looked at him, surprised by his offer. “I didn’t expect anyone to notice,” you admitted quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Jack gave a small, reassuring smile, trying to be comforting despite his own awkwardness. “Well, if you, um, want to talk or something, I’m here. I mean, you don’t have to, but…”

You took a deep breath, finding some comfort in his presence. “It’s just been one of those nights where everything feels too much. I thought getting away for a bit would help, but…”

Jack’s gaze softened as he listened. “Sometimes trips don’t turn out the way we expect. If you want to, um, talk about it, I’m here. Or if you just need some quiet..I’ll just go.”

“Thanks..” you mumbled.

Jack smiled faintly, relieved to see you opening up a bit. “Alright, I’ll be here. And, uh, if you want to hear somethin’ silly or distracting, just let me know. I’m, um, pretty good at that too.”

You managed a small, shy smile.

Jack gave a light nod and settled into a nearby seat, giving you the space you needed while remaining close enough to be supportive. The two of you sat in quiet companionship, and the train’s rhythmic hum seemed to make the night a bit more bearable.

A few beats passed where nothing was said, just silence. Until eventually in the silence came your voice.

“I’m y/n..” you declared softly and shrugged, looking over at him.

Jack perked up a bit and tilted his head at your words, he mulled over your words before he finally smiled to himself and nodded.

“Jack.” He replied softly, you smiled at his name and moved so you could sit near him. He stared you down and smiled right back. He missed sweet moments like this, he was a tad touch starved to be fair. He moved to boldly wipe a tear away from your face.

“Pretty faces like yours look beautiful with tears on them, but I bet you look cute without them too, hm?” He whispered and you felt a soft blush cover your cheeks. You giggled bashfully and shrugged your shoulders. He was a little cheesy but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Jack felt bold in the moonlight, maybe if was the aura of the air, but he felt like kissing you. Slowly he moved a strand away from your face and you blushed some more.

“A kiss might help..” You whispered and averted your gaze, he smiled and nodded his head. He leaned forward and that was that.

your lips met his and you both sunk into a soft kiss, the sound of smooches filled the air and if hearts could fly like those cartoons—they most definitely would. Jack pulled you closer and put you onto of him, leaning himself into the edge of the seat and the wall so you were draped on him. A weird position but it was comfortable and it was honestly calming you down.

You and him stayed like that for a a while until the telltale sign of a man clearing his throat jump scared you and Jack. Jack looked past you to see Peter, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Although he wasn’t all surprised.

Jack swallowed and gave him and wave, and then in the heat of it all moved to kiss you again.

Peter sighed and moved to walk off again, leaving you and Jack to your thing. Jack smiled against the kiss and pulled back to stare at you.

“I’m going to take you like an elk eating a cracker.” He drawled out, and you furrowed your brows. A giggle escaped you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked and he started to laugh as well, shrugging his shoulders.

“I dunno, just wanted to make you laugh.” He admitted.

———

And at that, that single joke, was the start of everything and nothing. Some may say causal holiday hookup, but the postcards you and him sent each-other after the trip proved otherwise.

[notmyneighbor]

in the dark | izaack gauss x francis mosses

rating | explicit

part 4/?

words | 3.4k

cw | sexual content

ao3 link

Sometimes, when Francis is alone with Izaack, it becomes easier to shut away the worries of the world outside.

He stands at the kitchen counter, seasoning meat and prepping vegetables while the news anchor sits at the kitchen table, scribbling furiously into a small notebook, some thoughts he doesn’t want to forget for a future broadcast, perhaps, and the milkman’s lips curve in a gentle smile. The seated man’s eyes lift to find his and he lets the pad of paper drop, the pen falling and rolling to the floor, but he ignores it, instead moving to stand behind his lover. He wraps his arms around his waist and kisses the side of his neck and Francis hums a little sigh of contentment. Bliss. That’s what this feeling is.

On another occasion, he digs into the soil of the garden boxes lining his patio, plucking tomatoes and peppers and basil and remarking on their growth to his new partner, the ripened harvest carefully cradled in his fingers. He guides Izaack’s attention to a vacant box he’s been saving for this occasion, watching as Izaack’s larger fingers prod deep gouges in the dirt, watching as Francis empties paper packets of seeds and sprinkles grains of fertilizer and gently covers each one, adding a gentle stream of water from the can nearby.

Izaack brings him to the public library, wandering through the stacks, selecting volumes for research, a smaller stack for pleasure. When the aisle they’re both occupying is empty the news anchor drags the milkman closer, kissing his startled lips.

“Izaack,” he hisses warningly, frantically looking around for any spies, but it seems as if their secret is still safe. “You have to be careful. If someone sees you. Your career…”

“I know what I’m doing, Fran. You worry too much.” He steals another kiss, his fingernails dragging along the milkman’s spine.

“You don’t worry enough,” he replies, even as he feels himself melting against the larger man.

Back at Francis’ apartment, the books sit untouched on the coffee table.

The news anchor has spent the last few minutes lathering the milkman’s cock with his saliva, those wet, sloppy kisses traveling to his inner thighs. He can’t stifle a whimper when he feels Izaack’s tongue moving further down, stroking over the puckered flesh behind his scrotum. The unexpected sensation knocks the air from his lungs and his hips jerk forward, seeking more contact even as his cheeks flush in embarrassment. He feels something cool and slick pressing there, the purpose of the brief trip to the pharmacy on the way home now made clear as a lubricant coated finger presses lightly against his anus.

Izaack eases gently inside up to his first knuckle, the thick finger stretching the warm walls. Francis bites his bottom lip, squirming, both eager for more and seeking escape. His more experienced partner rests a hand on one thigh, drawing small, soothing circles to distract him. “If you bear down, it’ll make it easier to penetrate you.”

“Izaack, fuck,” the milkman curses over how blatant his lover is.

“Do you want me to stop?” The azure eyes glitter challengingly.

“N…No,” Francis huffs.

“Good. Relax. Let me in. It’s going to feel amazing, I promise.” The finger starts to slide free, then is reinserted, thrusting deeper this time. The milkman feels sweat breaking out on his brow. His cock aches, and he wants to touch it, or have Izaack stroke it, even better, but it’s not his show to run.

When he’s able to tolerate the repeated movement’s of Izaack’s index finger, a second is added with a fresh drizzle of lube to help its passage. Francis grits his teeth, his ass cheeks aching from their precarious perch on the hard edge of the sofa. When those invading digits curl to find his prostate, his entire spine lights on fire, his cock twitching and a wad of precum oozing from the tip. Izaack lurches forward, his tongue swiping at this offering, and the seated man moans. The news reporter’s mouth engulfs the head completely and he sucks, hard, hard enough that he feels the other man’s teeth scrape his dick, the ridged roof of his upper palate. He can’t stop his hips from moving upward, shoving further back into the man’s mouth and violating the entrance of his throat. Izaack takes it all in stride, humming appreciatively while his fingers continuing massaging the tender dip of tissue inside of the milkman.

Francis hears Izaack undoing his own belt buckle, the soft whine of the zipper, his free hand stroking his own cock while he sucks the milkman’s and fingers his rectal cavity. Something about that, the fact that the other man could no longer wait, too aroused by what he’s doing, makes the situation even more erotic. He feels his release building, the discomfort all but forgotten now as he grinds himself against Izaack’s fingers and pumps his cock in and out of his mouth. He doesn’t even recognize the sound that escapes him when he cums, blasting a load of thick jizz down Izaack’s throat. Izaack moans around him, the gurgling sound when all that added moisture combines and collides in his gullet making another stream of sperm shoot out.

The kneeling man moves upward, his fingers finally vacating Francis’s body as he drags a sloppy kiss that tastes like himself over the milkman’s lips, the hand around his own cock still frantically pumping. “God, Fran, I can’t wait to fuck you. That tight ass is so perfect…” He growls, teeth gritted, aiming the head of his dick towards the other man’s chest and covering it in ropes of cum.

He manages to collapse on the couch beside Francis, still struggling to catch his breath, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. He stretches his arm out across the back of the couch, then curls it over his shoulder, hugging him closer. “You did so good, babe,” he murmurs.

Francis tucks his face against his partner, ignoring the mess covering his skin, letting his fingers hang from the lapel of the suit jacket Izaack’s still wearing, then sliding over to hold his tie, a navy one with a tiny embroidered diamond pattern. He’ll think of this every time he sees him wearing it now, sitting on that stool in the newsroom, microphone and documents on the counter in front of him, addressing everyone from the television studio while Francis looks at that tie and remembers what it had felt like to have Izaack Gauss’s fingers lodged inside his body, his throat coating his cock like a glove. He shivers and nuzzles closer, clinging tightly to his lover, to another memory he wants to add to the growing collection.

***

There are other times when Francis does not feel close to Izaack; does not feel like he matters at all.

He can see it in his eyes, when those blue green orbs become hazy as the milkman prattles about his delivery route that day, his mind clearly drawn elsewhere. He does not look away from his notes no matter how longingly the milkman gazes at him. He barely touches the meals he prepares sometimes, the food growing cold, while he thumbs through books and makes phone calls and moves into the office to clack away at his typewriter. Francis knows his work is important; he doesn’t begrudge him that. But it still feels some nights like he’s competing with another suitor, one that he’s ill equipped to outfavor.

He’s sullen when Izaack appears to be taking the night off from work at last, bringing him back to the secret club, the same bouncer as last time guarding the door.

The first gin and tonic disappears quickly, a bittersweet drink that suits the milkman’s mood perfectly, and one of his companion’s thick eyebrows quirks, noticing. Well, good, Francis thinks. He’s finally done something to get his attention. He signals for another, raising his hand in the air until a waiter saunters over to take his order, collecting the empty glass.

“You alright, Fran?”

“Fine,” he mutters, now fiddling with the beverage napkin that had been left behind.

“You’re not,” Izaack disagrees, his own drink still untouched. “You’ve been acting strange lately in general.”

“Surprised you noticed.”

“Francis. Look at me.” The milkman’s dark eyes slide up to meet the other man’s lighter ones. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“You’re the famous reporter. You can’t figure it out?” He hates how bitter he sounds. How petulant. But he can’t stop the words from spilling out. He’s been trying to play by Izaack’s rules this entire time, but he feels like he doesn’t have a full copy of that rule book; that he’s missing vital playing pieces in this game. “You don’t—” He begins, halting when the waiter returns with his drink. He ignores it, continuing on, “—you don’t notice me anymore. Not really. We’re together, but you’re not actually present. You don’t care what I cook. You don’t care about what I have to say. You don’t even seem to feel it when I touch you,” he adds softly. “I might as well not even exist.”

Izaack stares at the milkman for long moments, his lips parting more than once as if to respond to the accusations, but no sounds issue forth. The knuckles of the hand resting on the linen draped table blanch as his fist tightens in silent frustration.

“You can’t do it, can you? You can’t balance out your career and a serious relationship. It’s one or the other. You can’t devote yourself to both.” Francis finally takes a healthy swallow from his glass, then presses the back of his wrist against his mouth, stifling the sound that wants to escape. The words hurt so badly to utter; to hear them echoing beside his ears, as well as in his own mind.

“Francis,” Izaack croaks out, stretching his arm across the table, but the milkman has made certain he’s out of reach. “Fran. Listen to me. You’re right. I know I’ve been distracted lately. But it’s not because I don’t notice you or don’t want to be with you anymore. I do. So damn bad,” he pleads. “It’s this story I’m working on. The one about the doppels. I’m so close, Fran. Almost ready to blow the cover on this entire operation. But I have to get it just right. I only have one shot at this.”

Francis stares at his lover, at the hand stretched out towards him, but he can’t bring himself to take that offering. “And this is more important than us?”

The news anchor sighs heavily. “For now—just for now—it has to be. You don’t understand. If you knew the truth…”

“So tell me,” the milkman challenges. “Tell me what this amazing breakthrough story is.”

Izaack hesitates, glancing around. The room is not crowded; there is no one seated close to them, but he still seems cautious despite his previous claims that this was a safe, secure location. He inhales deeply, keeping his voice low. “The doppels aren’t some evil alien race that’s invaded our planet.”

“So what are they, then?”

The local television celebrity gives Francis a long look. “They’re man made. And mass produced.”

The milkman frowns. “What?”

“Manufactured in a lab. A government run lab. Engineered with the purported intention of being used as soldiers. Perfect spies that can look like anyone. Adapt to any language. Blend right in so well that enemy lines can be thoroughly infiltrated. By the time anyone discovers the truth, if they ever manage to, it will be too late.” He pauses and finally samples his alcoholic beverage, the condensation clinging to his shaky hand.

Francis stares at the other man in complete astonishment, breath held, waiting for him to continue.

“The experiments worked a little too well, their intelligence and unique abilities allowing them to escape. This is what prompted the creation of the DDD. It’s a means for them to be collected, taken back to the lab for further processing. Testing. Whatever experiments they need to perform to make them obedient. That particular aspect is beyond my scope of understanding.”

“I can’t believe this,” the milkman whispers.

“There’s a little more. And this part, Fran, this piece of knowledge is the most dangerous one of all.” His eyes dart around again to ensure the conversation is still private before he continues. “There’s a specific reason why I’m living in that apartment building in particular. The man behind the research, the one who has led this entire project and guided it to its fruition, lives there. He’s disguised himself as a physicist, engaged to be married. But he’s not a physicist and the engagement is fake as well. It’s all a front. A cover up.”

Francis leans back against the padded chair, needing the added support to his posture. “You mean Dr. Afton.”

Izaack nods. “Yes. I mean him.”

“Christ, Izaack. What have you gotten yourself mixed up in? The government? Seriously?”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been guarding it so closely. Keeping it secret.” He spreads his hands. “So now you know everything. You’re the first person I’ve ever told the whole story to. It feels good to let it all out, honestly,” he admits, taking another swallow of his drink.

The milkman can’t stop staring. It can’t be true. This has to be some elaborate tale to distract him from his accusations of neglect. “You…you must have it wrong. That kind of technology doesn’t even exist, yet. And people would know about it. They’d find out the government was lying…” His voice trails off.

“The government doesn’t always serve the people’s best interests. And the doppelgangers are as much victims of that deception as we humans are.”

“That’s treason, Izaack. What you’re saying. Are you crazy?”

“I know how it sounds. I also know it’s the truth.”

“So you really expect me to believe our government created these…monsters that can make themselves look like humans for the express purpose of attacking our enemies during war and…what, they just lost control of them? And the DDD that’s supposed to be protecting us is really just a means to get their lab rats back? I’ve talked to Afton. On multiple occasions. He lives next door to me…” Francis’s voice trails off as a thought occurs to him. “You didn’t get involved with me because of that, did you? To put yourself closer to him?”

”No. It’s purely coincidental that he’s your next door neighbor, I swear.”

Francis scowls, still not looking entirely convinced. “The man is shy and soft spoken. And he and Mia are completely devoted to one another. They were high school sweethearts, for fuck’s sake. Now you’re implying he’s some kind of criminal mastermind? And she’s part of all this, too?”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Francis shakes his head violently. “Izaack, come on. Enough’s enough. I know I’m not the most world savvy person, but none of this makes any sense.”

“You think the alien invader theory does?”

“More than this,” the milkman mutters.

“This is why I’ve been working so diligently. I’ll never convince anyone with mere statements alone. I’ve got some doppels willing to help me out, and a couple of scientists that are willing to talk but don’t want their names involved for obvious reasons, but that’s not enough. I need hard proof, and that’s why I’ve arranged an exclusive interview at the DDD headquarters next week. I don’t expect them to confess outright, but I’m hoping I can snoop a bit and find some evidence that will finally make it impossible for them to deny the truth any longer. I’ve already searched Afton’s place and nothing turned up,” he adds, looking disappointed.

“You’re working with the doppels, too?” Francis hisses in disbelief. “And you broke into Afton’s apartment?!”

“Of course. That’s how this whole thing started. Not all of them are bad, Francis. Some of them just want a chance at a normal life. To blend in and be a functioning member of society. Like the bouncer outside, for example.”

“This just goes from bad to worse. I can’t even believe what I’m hearing.” He glances around the bar, his shoulders visibly tensing. “Is anyone here human besides us?”

“Some people.”

“Some people,” the delivery man repeats. “Great. Wonderful.”

“This is why I was so reluctant to talk to you about it. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

Francis scoffs. “Fucking hell, you think? I just had my entire world tipped completely upside down. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not responding a little better.”

“You’re doing amazing so far. Better than I would have imagined.”

Francis’s eyes narrow. “Don’t do that. That condescending praise bullshit.” He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Fran. For hurting you. Not for telling you the truth. Never that,” he adds gently.

“So where the fuck does this leave us?” The damp napkin he’s been nervously fondling begins to shred to ribbons. He has never sworn this much in his entire life. Never been this angry. Hurt. Confused. Disappointed. Scared. The emotions spill over him, churning around until he can no longer separate one from the other.

“That’s entirely up to you.”

“No. You don’t get to dump this on my lap, on top of all that other shit. You take responsibility for it.”

“I still want you,” Izaack murmurs. “I want us. But not if this is what it’s going to do to you. I don’t want to put you at risk. I already have just by telling you. I won’t blame you for walking away. It might be better if you did.” He swallows thickly. “It would kill me if you did, Fran. I care about you a lot. I think you’re very special. Not just because of the sex. Because you’re you.” His hand reaches again, this time successfully closing over Francis’s. “I love your cooking. Your garden. Your delivery stories. I love watching television with you and holding you against me. I don’t want any of those things with anyone else. It’s you, Fran. You’re the only one for me.”

Francis feels tears burning his lower eyelids and he turns his face away quickly, stifling a sad little hum of sound. “You mean it?” He asks quietly.

“Yes. Every word.”

The milkman huffs a shuddering breath. “Alright. I feel that way, too.”

“You want to go home now?”

“Yeah.”

Izaack nods, releasing Francis’s hand and signaling for the waiter to bring the check.

The walk back to the car is quiet, the milkman unable to keep from giving the bouncer a sidelong glance as he passes by him. A doppelganger. Right in front of his nose, and he’d had no idea. The implications of Izaack’s claims are terrifying.

But he can’t focus on that right now. He’s suddenly exhausted, the emotional whirlwind sapping his energy. The ride home is also silent. Izaack keeps one hand threaded through his, until they reach the apartment building’s parking lot. Wordlessly their ID cards and entry requests are slotted towards the doorman, the news reporter that was so normally friendly withdrawn tonight, bypassing the customary banter. The pair of men step onto the elevator, carried to the third floor, and Francis finds himself glancing warily in his next door neighbor’s direction. Afton and Stone live there. Right beside him.

The milkman unlocks his door, then stands there, hesitating. Izaack pushes it open and he follows. The door closes behind them, then the news reporter turns the deadbolt and faces the shorter man. He cups his face between his hands, bending to kiss his mouth softly. “Okay, Fran?” He whispers.

He nods, wondering if the doctor and his fake fiancée knew about the two of them. Had ever heard things through the walls. Or even if they had, were far too occupied with other nefarious schemes to spare worry for an affair between two male residents of the apartment building. His home doesn’t feel quite so cozy anymore. No longer so safe and secure. The doorman guarding it didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know that another enemy was already dwelling inside, lurking at his back.

“I’m going to fix all of this,” Izaack murmurs, as if sensing his thoughts. “The DDD will pay for what they’ve done. I’ll make it right, Fran.” He kisses him again, letting his lips linger this time. Francis curls his arms around the broader man and squeezes him tightly, hoping he can.