#I’m gonna print it and hang it in my apartment
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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago
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I'm your only situationship.
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A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.
18+ MDNI
TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.
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Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 
Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”
“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”
“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”
“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 
He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.
“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”
His phone vibrated a minute later.
“I can’t today, Si.”
“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”
As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.
“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”
Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.
“Hiya, Si!” 
“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”
“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 
“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”
“No.” And hangs up. 
The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—
“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”
One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”
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You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’
You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 
The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 
“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 
You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”
Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—
“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”
“Where is he?”, he snarls.
“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”
You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,
“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”
“No, pet.”
“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”
“Pet.” 
You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.
He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 
“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 
He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”
With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 
Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 
You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.
Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—
Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 
You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 
“You have a condom?” 
You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”
“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”
You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 
“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 
You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 
He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 
He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 
Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.
That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 
“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.
“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”
He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 
He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.
“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 
You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.
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dreamingunderacloudysky · 19 days ago
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Hey I saw your requests were open! May I ask for a fem reader x Anya! Instead of Jambalaya joining the crew it’s a sweet small energetic but slightly chaotic ADHD copilot? No crash but they open their apartment to her when they return after pony express shuts down and supports her through nursing school? Bonus for “I’m gonna launch myself at my friends” type hugs and inviting the gang over to celebrate her graduation! Sorry if that’s too much and thank you for your time and work!
Bubbly Co-Pilot HCS | Anya
A/N: Oh this looks super fun to write
When you'd opened up your apartment to Anya she was already left in disbelief
But she was beaming when given the opportunity to move in with you.
(I actually really want to save some of these HCs for what it would be like to have Anya move in with her partner)
But given your support of her to retake the final nursing exam she could not ask more of you. You had already given her a second chance at life after her main source of income (Pony Express) shut down
Now, Curly is on a ladder hanging the streamers, Swansea brings in the first round of cooked burgers and fixings to set on the counter top, Daisuke sets up the speakers around the house and has Anya's 80's synthesizer music, and you do the finishing touches of your make up in the mirror along as put some effort into the dress you're in.
You all had attended the graduation, but Anya had to stay a little late due to her professors wanting to speak more with her as far as job opportunities. This bought you and the rest of the Tulpar crew to set up a little surprise gathering for Anya in your cozy apartment.
You hear the tell tale beep of Anya's car in the drive way as it locks and you quickly gather everyone near the front door
When Anya opens it her eyes turn to saucers when she takes in her old coworkers and the decorations about the living room.
Then she spots you and the moment you lock eyes with Anya you bolt and leap right into her arms.
Anya, after being with you in space for a little over a year in close quarters knows this habit and catches you before lifting and spinning you, her graduation cap knocked askew in the process.
As you guide Anya into the room further, she takes note of the food, the music, Curly, Daisuke, and Swansea each giving her a bone crushing hug.
As the night draws on there's dancing, dining (finest of grease foods), and a classic game of cards against humanity.
When the night starts to close, the crew helps clean up before leaving and refuses to let Anya help with cleaning
Anya nearly cries after the silence flows back into the apartment but instead of doing that she just squeezes you. Possibly taking her cap off and even leaning down to recreate "The Kiss"
You can expect Anya to print out those photos and scrap book them to look on them on tough days.
A/N: god this was a long prompt BUT THERE WERE SO MANY DIRECTIINS I WANTED TO TAKE IT TOO. Sorry if it seems all over the place it's 6:18 AM here and I have Night watch in 12 hours so I'm going to knock out but pushing more content out!!!
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oddaesthetin · 3 months ago
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drunk, awkward, in love — han hyeongjun
“you’re my dream girl” fluff
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it was stupid. both of you knew it was stupid, but the two of you also knew nobody would ever attempt to stop you. stupidly weird things like this were simply just your thing. everybody knew that.
hyeongjun had just come back from tour, and you from a family trip. it was an intrusive idea that both of you decided to do anyway—buy different brands of beer from wherever place you two got back from and taste test all of them. it was all his idea, but you weren’t gonna say no, so, really, who cares? gunil.
now, here’s the two of you, drunkenly half-laughing, half-trying to keep the vomit from coming out of your mouths, in your apartment, at exactly 2am. the apartment’s a mess. some throw pillows in the kitchen, a bean bag on the coffee table, the tv playing lovable by kim jongkook, and, for reasons unknown, a printed photo of jooyeon’s face on the wall.
you stopped laughing and immediately sat down as soon as you felt the need to hurl again. hyeongjun, while extremely concerned, is still laughing. with claps and pointy fingers and all that. you did that to him earlier, too, so that’s what you get.
“hanging in there?”
“yes.”
is what you were going to say if you didn’t just gallop your way into the bathroom to barf. the laughing stops, and for a moment, you thought it was just hyeongjun being considerate—until you heard a loud thud. you exit the bathroom after you’re done fixing yourself, only to find your boyfriend lying dead drunk in the middle of your living room. with no spare energy, you quietly walked and lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling for a good five minutes before he was crawling his way over to rest his head on your stomach.
“did you have fun?” he asked quietly.
you hummed and played with his hair. “honestly wouldn’t ask for anything better. i’d do this again, even with the puking part.”
you heard him laugh. “i’m glad. i enjoyed it, too.” though almost soundless, he felt you reply with a hum again. not too long after, he continued. “we should probably clean your place up.”
“wha—? that’s what you’re worried about? i thought you’d be more concerned about the beers we have left.” you pointed to the three unopened beers and chicken leftovers on the floor. “i know i am, i mean, not to sound alcoholic.”
he laughed again, his head shaking on your stomach. “well, i am, too! but i thought you were already drunk.”
“no i’m not. i’m just resting. all the puking got me hungry again,” you said with a hint of defensiveness. “you’re the one i’m worried about. are you sure you don’t have to come to practice tomorrow?”
you felt him shake his head. “it’s rest day.”
then it got quiet. another five minutes was spent staring at the ceiling until you got bored and took a peek at your boyfriend’s face. his eyes are closed, but if it weren’t for the small smile on his lips, you would’ve assumed he fell asleep already.
“what are you thinking? don’t think too deeply. that’s the kind of thing old people do when they’re already drunk. we’re obviously not.” the last statement you said so flatly.
“i was just thinking about how you’re my dream girl.” he said it so casually. too casual, actually, as if he was embarrassed to say it. it didn’t help that he got up too quickly after that and went to the beers. you remained lying down, trying to process what you just heard. it was one of the rare moments where you didn’t know how to play it cool. hyeongjun rarely conveyed his feelings this directly, and now you were torn between reciprocating the thought or changing the topic so he wouldn’t keep feeling embarrassed.
thankfully, you didn’t have to decide.
“you’re so red all over, oh my god,” your boyfriend said, giggling.
you felt the heat rise up to your face once more. you reached for the nearest throw pillow and threw it at him, which he easily caught. “shut up. you caught me off-guard. what was that anyway? i hope you didn’t just say that cause you’re drunk.”
he chuckled, a beer now in his hand. he lied down once again next to you and offered the can he was holding in the other. with you probably too shy to even look at him, you couldn’t see the soft expression his eyes bore.
“i wouldn’t just say it.” with the usual unsure expression gone, he said it softly but surely. “i don’t know…it just felt like something i needed to tell you.”
you playfully kicked one of his feet. “and you decided the perfect time was right after we drank enough to wreck the apartment?”
“well, timing isn’t my strong suit either!”
you both giggled. a second later, you sat up. “i’ve always had a crush on you, too.” you looked at him, resting your chin on your hand. still feeling warmth spreading through your chest, you gave him a smile. “i don’t mind where or when you say it. i like it when you’re random and honest, even if we’re surrounded by chicken bones and vomit… i’d call you perfect, too.”
the two of you laughed again in unison. “ahh, i also appreciate how you make saying these things easy.”
surrounded by the ridiculous chaos of the night, a quiet understanding settled between you. you both had this unspoken connection for so long, filled with small moments of shared laughter, knowing looks, and quiet comfort. but tonight felt a little bit different.
as he watched you fidget with the throw pillow, trying to play off your own reaction, he felt a quiet relief. as per usual, he knew you’d understand him even when he didn’t know how to explain himself.
he glanced over at you again, his gaze softening as he took in the way you rested your chin on your hand, giving him that playful, affectionate smile. he shifted closer, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze, as if to say everything he hadn’t yet figured out how to put into words.
the apartment was still a mess, and neither of you was exactly sober, but none of that mattered. here, in this simple, unpolished moment, he felt more certain than he ever had.
loving wasn’t always about grand gestures or perfect timing for the both of you. sometimes, they’re just these messy, awkward, and absolutely stupid moment that makes your relationship perfect. and you thank the stars that both of you had the same understanding of that.
© oddaesthetin 2024
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fangirlingfromdownunder · 6 months ago
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A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 9
Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 
A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.
A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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Leaning against the hardwood, I take a deep breath and swipe across to answer. “Hey, Superstar!” I say as the call connects.
“Merry Christmas, Darlin’. I’ve only got a few minutes before my mom starts wondering where I snuck off to, so this has to be quick-”
“I ain't giving you no quickie, Ackles!” I exclaim in a hushed voice, in mock offense.
“Come on, Darlin’. Don’t keep me hanging. Since you haven’t opened it yet I wanna hear your reaction. Please.”
“Alright. But in future, I deserve more than a quickie,” I tease.
“Of course. When I’m not hiding from family, I will give you my full, undivided attention for as long as you want,” he assures with a low chuckle.
“Good. I’ll hold you to that,” I say as I balance my phone between my ear and shoulder to free up my hands to peel off the tape. “Alright, I’m tearing off the tape now. When did you send this? Texas and New York are miles apart.”
“A few days ago, express. And to pre-empt you, no, I don’t expect anything in return. I just wanted to give you something.” I finish tearing off the tape and pull the flaps open an A4 sized envelope labeled with his management address sitting on top, I pull it out and set it to the side as I look beneath it. Obviously, hearing the rustling Jensen continues, “I’ll fight for you if you don’t want to sign that, but it will make my life so much easier if you do.”
“The NDA?” I ask.
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t, but I trust you. I’m not gonna cut anything off or get upset if you decide not to sign. It’s mainly just in case I let anything slip about Supernatural or any other projects, I have to sign them all the time, but we’re human. Things slip with those we’re close to. So it’s more for the networks than me. I’m not that secretive about my life anyway. I’ll tell you anything about me, regardless.”
“What does this all mean, Jensen?”
“I like you, Y/N. I want to get to know you better. And eventually, maybe…if you’ll have me…”
“Jensen…I…This is a lot. But of course, I’ll sign it. I don’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”
Sensing the tension building, he attempts to lighten it, “I don’t mind difficult positions…” Before I can chastise him he continues, “Hurry up, look in the rest of the box. You can read the fine-print later.”
I oblige and reach back into the box. My fingertips run along soft fabric, I pull it up and out to reveal a stunning baby-blue summer dress with thin straps and little white baby breath flowers adorning the fabric.
“Jensen, this dress, it’s beautiful. It’s much too cold to wear it now, but I look forward to summer,” I tell him in awe. What I don’t tell him is that I had a very similar style dress when I was a little girl, and it was my favourite; I wore it until it was stained and torn and my mom secretly threw it away. 
“I hope it fits, I had to take a guess. I saw it in a store in Austin and it reminded me of the shirt you were wearing under your apron that day. It’s probably not the height of fashion in New York, but I hope that one day you’ll come here and show it off in Texas. But if it’s not, you don’t have to-”
“I’ll try it on some time and let you know, but it looks like it should fit, as long as I don’t overindulge over the holidays on non-frozen meals. I can’t promise anything about Texas though…”
“One day, Darlin’. There’s no date to commit to. I know we haven’t known each other long…and infatuation or not…I just wanted you to know that I’m serious about how I feel, and about giving this…us…a shot. If you want to, too.”
“I…Jen-” I cut yourself off when you hear a female voice calling out his name and telling him to come help with grilling.
He clears his throat and says, “There’s no rush. Just take your time and if you feel the same, just sign that paperwork and send it to my management team. Merry Christmas.”
“Okay, Merry Christmas, Jensen.” I sit on the bed feeling confused by his instant change of tone. If he meant what he said, why turn so professional and impassionate? After a few minutes, my thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. “Come in!”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but dinner’s,” Stella cuts herself off when she sees the dress, paperwork and my phone in my lap, and the sad expression on my face. She comes in closing the door behind her and sits on the queen-sized bed beside me. “What happened?”
I shake my head and stuff everything back in the box. “We can talk about it later. You were saying dinner is ready? Let’s not keep poor Nick waiting, it smells like he’s cooked us something delicious.”
“Fine, but you promised details. You’d better not hold out on me!” She warns, trying to lift the tension.
I stand up and lead her back down to the dining room where Nick has set the table with an array of enticing and beautifully aromatic foods. Once I sit down, I fill my plate with sourdough, roast chicken, yam, beans, mashed potato and top it all off with gravy. It’s truly a Christmas worthy feast, even though it’s only Christmas Eve. Knowing Nick though, he’ll manage to outdo himself tomorrow, somehow. We all devour the delicious feast quietly. The tension from the call slowly dissipates and I eventually fall back into harmony with my best friend and her fiance; sharing stories about our week and plans for the upcoming wedding, all to steer clear of the topic of Jensen and your potential relationship.
Once we’re all well and truly stuffed, we all help package up the leftovers and clean the dishes. Then, with a wine glass in hand – closely monitored by Nick – Stella and I laze on the couch while he plays Legend of Zelda on the TV. We’re both content to watch him while our food digests. But after a while my well-meaning-yet-nosy best friend nudges for those promised details. I sigh, but finally concede knowing I will feel better if I talk about it.
“He’s serious about us…About giving us a shot…as a couple. He wants me to visit him in Texas…” I divulge.
Stella instantly sits up straighter and claps her hands enthusiastically. “You said you feel the same right? You’re gonna go to Texas, after the wedding of course.”
“That’s the thing…He got strange before I got the chance…”
“Strange how?”
“He’s probably just nervous about how you’ll react,” Nick adds, multitasking with perfection. “This the same guy that drunk texted you?”
“He drunk texted you!” Stella exclaims with mock offense that she didn’t know the story.
“Last time I was here, after that concert. He was as drunk as we were…He sent me messages meant for his friend. And yeah, that’s the guy. Anyway, I’m probably reading too much into it. It’s just that he told me he was serious about us and then all of a sudden he turned all professional and hung up. It was like he’s hiding something from someone…maybe me or maybe his family, I don’t know. It was just weird.”
“Maybe he is. Maybe he’s not close with his family and doesn’t want any awkward questions. He’s waiting until he knows it’s real before letting anything on to his family,” Nick offers.
“Maybe…”
“Is that what you did with us?” Stella accuses as she stares at him pointedly, despite his eyes never straying from the screen.
“No, but we also moved very fast. Not that I regret a second.”
“Good, I don’t regret a second either,” Stella says happily before leaning back on the couch. “So, what are you gonna do? You’re gonna give him a chance, right?”
“...I guess I’ll do what he said…Fill out the NDA and send it back to his management team. Let him know I’m serious too. What’s the harm in giving us a shot right? I mean, apart from ending up in the media, getting hate mail online from his fans, and ruining both our reputations…”
“Y/N, he’s not Trent or Tyler, his name doesn’t even start with a T. You gotta get out there again sometime.”
“A J is just a T with a bend at the bottom…Plus, I’m perfectly content alone.”
“You’re third-wheeling our Christmas so you don’t wallow in your apartment in self-pity. You’re lonely, I can tell. Also, it depends on how you write it, leave the cross off the top and J is a completely different letter.”
“I just don’t want to rearrange my life for a guy who doesn’t feel the same again. I’ve already set myself back so far because I fell in love with guys who didn’t give a shit about me.”
“You don’t know that Jensen is the same. To me it seems like he’s chasing you. So, I think he gives a shit. look, I’m not saying to fall blindly in love with him, I’m just saving to give it a chance. Be as cautious as you want this time, just don’t shut yourself off. Also, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself…that dress did not look fit for the winter. That means he’s not expecting a visit until summer…”
“Yeah, maybe…”
“Okay, new tactic. Tell me about him, not his celebrity life, the him you know. Start with what made you text him back that first night?”
I take a sip of wine to quiet my racing thoughts as I think as reasonably as possible back to that night. It doesn’t take long for the reasons to come rushing in. I explain how I find him attractive, but not just in a physical sense, at an emotional level too. How he’s surprisingly easy to talk to, he didn’t get mad about the hot chocolate or paparazzi, how he seemed to notice me when nobody else has in a long time, how he seems down-to-Earth, how he’s willing to open up and listen. I tell her about our call when he pulled over to comfort me when I told him about the ‘T-wads’ as you unaffectionately call them.
Once I finish rambling, she brings you back to the present. “See? That doesn’t seem like a guy that doesn’t give a shit. There’s a lot of good there to work with. He could be your one, or he may not…but you’ll never know if you break it off before it gets a chance to bloom.”
I smile and nod as I think it over, considering my options. Eventually I say, “I’ll fill out the paperwork and send it after Christmas.” Then after a few minutes of comfortable quiet with just the beautiful Legend of Zelda soundtrack filling the space, I add, “And I want to invite him as my plus one for the wedding. I don’t know how it could work logistically, but I don’t want to dance alone…”
“There’s still Travis…you’ll have to dance with him once anyway since he’s my bestman…” Nick states matter-of-factly.
“What part of the ‘T-wads’ did you not understand? She’s not dating anymore guys whose name starts with that letter!” Stella retorts.
“She still has to dance with him though, even if it is just one dance…” He retorts with a shrug.
“Don’t worry, I’ll play my part as the maid-of-honor. I’ll do the formal dance, but after that…” I’m cut off by my phone buzzing. Hope bubbles up at the prospect of Jensen calling back to explain his off-behaviour but when I check the screen slight disappointment sets in; it’s my mother. I quickly brush off the disappointment and answer cheerfully.
“Hi Mom, Merry Christmas Eve!”
“Hi Honey, Merry Christmas Eve to you as well, although it would have been more merry if you had’ve come home.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but I told you, I have to help Stell with her wedding. A trip to Houston just isn’t in the cards right now.”
“You can’t avoid us forever you know? I really thought you would come back home after everything with Tyler.”
“Can we really just not talk about him right now, please? Anyway, I’ve made a life here. My best friend is here, my work is here and I told you I’m working on auditions and taking classes.”
“Not over Christmas you’re not.”
“No, not over Christmas. But I’m wedding planning at the moment.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop pestering. I am proud of you, you know? Making it on your own out there in the big smoke…Just hold on, your dad wants to say hello too,.” the line goes silent for a second and then my dad’s booming voice forces me to pull your phone away from my ear.
“Merry Christmas, Sweetie. We miss you. I made your favourite Christmas mince pie in your honor.”
“Awe, dad. I love you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
After painstaking explaining how to put the call on speaker, I chat to both of my parents for a few minutes. I tell them little snippets of my life in New York recently and that part of me does miss the warmth of Texas. As we talk, i’m careful to leave out any details that include Jensen, not wanting them to get over excited before I know if anything will come of it. I remember how overjoyed my mother was when I first brought Tyler home – “a good Texan boy” she said – so I know that she would be excited about Jensen too if she knew. I then understand Jensen’s off behavior and change of tone.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never
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flavored-bleach · 3 days ago
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Shared Burial: Chapter 2
Ashley x Female reader
CW: alcohol and child neglect
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Summer was slowly coming to an end, which meant Y/N was going to be officially starting fourth grade in this new city’s school district.
Y/N didn’t really have friends at there old school but at least she was familiar with everything and everybody, but now? Y/N is going to be the “New Kid” which is way worse than being a loner.
Y/N knew she needed to make friends, and fast, unless she wanted to end up spending every recess awkwardly sitting alone on the swings. 
But how? She wasn’t exactly good at talking to people, especially when she had no idea who she could trust.
So here Y/N was, standing at the edge of the small park just a few blocks away from her apartment complex.
Why, you might ask? Well, right now Y/N was scouting around the area for kids her age, though it seems that luck wasn’t really on her side at the moment, because all the people she could see were joggers and old wrinkly couples.
Maybe she picked a lame spot?
But oh? What’s this? Near the playground area was a girl with washed-out purple hair that was styled in low pigtails, she also sported a darker purple shirt with a flower print and a dark-colored skirt.
And if her slight was correct, she looked around Y/N’s age which in par meant she was probably a soon-to-be classmate.
Jackpot, baby! Sure the little girl looked a little purple obsessed but that better than nothing! Right?
Wasting no time she quickly walked towards the purple-haired girl, who had noticed her approaching.
“Hello! My name’s Y/N and I’m kinda new to the neighborhood, I was wondering if we could hangout for a bit!” Y/N said as she paired her greeting with a friendly wave.
The girl lit up before also greeting Y/N “Oh! It’s always good to have new faces around, at least that’s what my mom says, but my name is Nina, nice to meet you too!”
Nina, huh? Not bad, not bad at all.
Y/N could get used to this, although societal isn’t really her thing, she can definitely endure it for now.
“Sooo.. what do you do for fun?” Y/N awkwardly asked.
“Er, there’s not much to do around here but I personally like drawing! I have other friends that I also hang out with!” Nina beamed “I’ll even introduce you to them.. although I’m gonna warn you that one of them is.. not the politest.” Nina said as she grimaced.
If it helps Y/N fit in better then she can take a little bit of verbal abuse.
“Don’t worry about it, I can handle it!” Y/N reassured “And by the way, we should share phone numbers so we can keep in touch.” Y/N said as she took out the little notepad and pencil from her pocket.
“Great idea!” Nina replied taking the pencil and jolting down her house number, they soon shared goodbyes and went their separate ways.
———
As Y/N returned home she found her Mother drunkenly lying on the cheap sofa, her Mother perked up at the sight of her daughter standing near the entrance.
“Hehe~ Ooh Y/N! I wasn’t aware you left!” Her Mother slurred in drunk delight.
“Yeah.. I just went to check the area around the apartments.” Y/N mumbled.
“Ahaaa~ that’s nice.. Y/N dearest, could you get Mommy another glass of winee?” She asked as she sloppily lifted her glass towards her daughter.
Y/N only sighed before grabbing her glass and pouring her Mother some more wine making sure to dilute the water so she didn’t get too drunk.
As she handed her Mother her wine she quickly fled to her room; Mother could get very temperamental when intoxicated, so it would be better for Y/N to not be around when it eventually happens.
Y/N locked her door before crashing onto her bed, her social battery was drained and didn’t really want to deal with her Mothers drunken shenanigans, soon Y/N’s eyes closed and she fell into her unconscious.
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I’m sorry for the short chapter, but I really want to build up character for everyone before I start getting into the actual story! ( TДT)
PS: There’s no incest; since you’re the one Ashley’s going to gain romantic interest for.
Ashley and Andrew are still really co-dependent on each other, just without the situationship.
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paracosmicka · 1 year ago
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Hey! I love your art so much 💖 I wanted to ask what program you use for 3D modelling?
aw thank you!! :3
and to answer your question i’m going to warn you this is going to be kinda long because i’m gonna use this post as an excuse to show my 3D models that aren’t awful (sorry lol).
i actually use two different programs, both for different purposes, but you don’t need to get both, it really depends on which kind of modeling you want to do.
1) the first is called Nomad Sculpt on the iPad, you do have to pay for it unfortunately but it’s definitely one of the best modeling apps for the iPad. i know Blender is free but my computer is really old and doesn’t run the program very well, and at this point i’ve already gotten used to nomad sculpt.
anyway tho, i use it for art-related things like the obvious 3D models, but recently i’ve been playing around with just making scenes to use as references for my drawings. they’re not anything impressive, most of the time i actually use it to make little figurines to print and turn into earrings/little friends that sit in my room just for fun.
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i’m gonna show this first bc they look cooler once they’re printed and colored (also you can tell i printed mini crowley and aziraphale when my sonadow hyperfixation started bc i never actually painted crowley) (he’s just kinda sitting there oops).
the little red guys are actually my favorite bugs (goliath beetles), i made them about a year ago but i still wear them like every day.
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and here’s what they look like in the app, it’s a little intimidating but once you get used to it it’s actually kinda fun just playing around and seeing what you can do.
2) the second program i use is Shapr3D (also for the iPad, but i think they made an update where you can run it on windows/mac). you also have to pay for this as a subscription which sucks, i’m only able to use it since the engineering program i’m in pays for it.
Shapr3D is one of the many CAD software programs out there, but it’s nice bc it’s very beginner friendly and very easy to use. CAD is mainly for architecture/engineering but i honestly think more 3D artists should give it a try. it’s really nice once you get the hang of it and (i’m probably biased bc i’m a student) i honestly prefer it over just normal modeling software because i feel like you can be a lot more creative with it.
right now for my engineering class, our semester final is to design and present something that’s functional, and we can either explain the math behind it or just 3D print it and demonstrate how it works, and i’m making a functional mini model of “the rack” trap from Saw III (i’m not psychotic i swear i’ve just had a Saw hyperfixation for 5 years).
i’m definitely gonna post it when it’s finished just bc i’m already excited with how it’s turning out, but for now here’s a couple at-home projects i’ve done:
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(above) i have a bunch of wet liners and i designed a stackable holder thingy with bolts between the shelves and a little cute star screw to fasten it at the top.
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(above) i also made a few rotating brush holders at home (bc the ones that actually rotate are like $40 for some reason) by buying a set of small sphere bearings at home depot for like $5 (that’s what those little metal things are inside the third one, i took it apart bc i don’t know how to put a video and a picture in the same post) (just pretend they’re spinning rn).
anyway that’s all!! if you actually read this whole thing i love you so much bc engineering and design is one of my special interests so thanks for letting me tell you about the silly things i’ve made :3
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lavendermoonlitskies · 5 months ago
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Life updates that nobody asked for <3
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Hi. So my life has been kind of hectic lately and it has been really hard finding comfort in anything, but I think I might slowly be coming out of that stage. I posted a little while ago that my dad might have cancer for the second time in his life and I was kind of falling apart at the thought of it, and now it has been confirmed that it is, in fact, cancer.
The good news is it’s localized, which means that in its current state, it’s a small tumor and it hasn’t spread, so all hope has not been lost, which is what I think I was really afraid of. Someone told me that the hardest part is waiting for test results and not having any idea what the future looks like, and I think that’s true because even though it was bad news, we are not experiencing the worst case scenario at this point. That could be set to change, but I would drive myself insane if I keep thinking about it like that, so I’ll try not to. He has a treatment plan, and that’s gonna go on for another couple months before they reassess and figure out where to go from there. I still have hope that it will go away, and I think it’s really important for me to hang onto that for my own sanity.
With everything going on, with all the crippling anxiety that goes along with it, I still have the urge to create. I’m not the best writer, I’m sure my work at this point is littered with mistakes and it’s clear to any professional that I am most certainly not, well, a professional. I know my writing hasn’t reached that much of an audience and I am so okay with that, but it brings me joy. I’ve always had little stories floating around in my head and this last year has been the first time in a while I’ve actually sat down and put it to paper (or perhaps more accurately to a google doc that’s never going to be printed on actual paper).
I know that the gap between the time I posted the first chapter of The Road Less Traveled (GO fic) and whenever I’m going to finally update it again keeps getting larger, but it crossed my mind again today and I remembered all my plans for it, and even though things in my real life look bleak right now, I almost felt excited for just a moment. It’s going to be slow, but I want to keep this story going, so I’m just going to have to be patient with myself.
In addition to that, I’ve been reading a lot of original novels lately and I feel inspired. I’ve never written anything that even comes close to a full-length novel, but I have this concept and I think it’s a good one. I’ve created characters, plotted stuff out, and even written a scene or two, so I guess I’ll just have to see where it goes. I think that this has kind of always been something I’ve wanted to do in the back of my mind, and with where I am in life right now maybe it’s as good a time as ever to try something new just because. I’ve let depression and anxiety consume me before, so even though this is a very real and very scary situation that could go in a lot of different directions, I don’t think I want to let myself do that this time.
November is coming up (sort of), and I know that that’s a really important month for writers, so I’m sort of getting myself ready for that. People are organizing NaNoWriMo alternatives, so I might jump in on one of those (side note: fuck the NaNoWriMo people for claiming that denouncing the use of AI in creative spaces is “ableist.” As a disabled person, that is a deeply insulting misuse of a word that is meant to shed light on the real issues disabled people face every day). I am an amateur, I don’t know what I’m doing at all, but maybe there’s something beautiful in someone who doesn’t have any “credentials” as a writer/artist/etc. just creating something because they want to.
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ckret2 · 1 year ago
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I’m curious what do you think books were like in Bills dimension? I can’t really think of how they’d be made without being weirdly long, or huge.
Also speaking of humans identifying as alien shape genders if someone were to identify as a square would they try to make their silhouette, or general appearance as square as possible like how Bill is? Do you think a shape can identify as a irregular shape? I know this isn’t important to the story I just like thinking about
I think the books were weirdly long and huge lmao. They look superficially similar to quipu, in that the covers/pages, by necessity, look like rows of strings hanging off the spine of the book; except of course instead of being made of "string" they're made out of two dimensional paper and they don't have to be tied in knots, they can have text printed on both sides of the page.
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I only put "text" (red and black ink) on the cover and the first page because I didn't wanna keep drawing it on all of them lmao. And obviously the pages wouldn't be spaced apart on the spine like that, they'd be packed as tightly as normal book pages are, but spacing them out made them easier to draw.
I also think scrolls might be common; assuming they use the front and back, I don't know whether a scroll or a book would be more pragmatic & take up less space.
Now, "what would humans who identify as shapes do" is a question about humans, and you and I are already humans, and there already exist humans with gender identities based on concepts, ideas, and species outside of humanity. How do people with xenogenders usually express their gender identities? We don't need to reinvent the wheel, here.
(To be clear: this is all hypothetical. I'm not actually gonna be writing any characters who decide they're a gender from Bill's planet. The closest is gonna be Mabel going "Hey Bill! 🛑 What 🔶 shape ⚠️ would 🟩 I 🔵 be 💜 ?" for fun so she can doodle them going on imaginary adventures.)
Sure, a shape can identify as irregular. Why not? What's stopping them? Asking "can a shape identify as ———" is like asking "can a human identify as ———." There might be Discourse™ around it. There might be people somewhere arguing about whether a gender identity is "allowed," or "real," or "ethical," or "inappropriate," etc. But nothing can reach inside of somebody's brain and prevent them from thinking "you know what? I think maybe my gender is ———." So yes, they can identify as it.
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nancydrewwouldnever · 2 years ago
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The Infamous Jenny Vulture Interview
So, I keep losing access to the infamous Jenny Vulture interview from March 2017 because of caps on access they have on their website. So, in case anyone else hits the same problem, I'm cut and pasting it here, to have an easier to access copy of it.
The Year of Living Publicly
Jenny Slate’s got two new films and a new home and, oh, by the way, she’s fresh off a breakup with Captain America. 
By Jasa Yuan
Published March 2017
Most pillows are just pillows, but for Jenny Slate, the floral-print puffs arrayed on her pristine white linen couch in her freshly rented apartment in L.A.’s Silver Lake are metaphors. For a bright future. For a new life. For freedom. The Obvious Child star and her bichon frise, Reggie, just moved into this sunny one-bedroom in February, and every time she looks at those pillows, she gets so excited because she remembers how she’d bought them while still married to editor-director Dean Fleischer-Camp, her husband for three years, but had to stow them away because she realized it felt like they were living in a box of tampons. Now she and Reggie don’t have to run their decorating decisions by anyone. “I’ve never lived on my own, because I really did go from one relationship to another my whole life, so I’ve never had a chance to go really girlie,” she says. “And I had my ex-husband over last night and he was like, ‘These flower pillows look great. But they’re just for you.’ I’m like, ‘Yeah! That’s right!’ I love them so much. I just love them for what they represent, which is that all my choices are for me.” She turns around. “I’m gonna pee really quick.”
The bathroom door doesn’t quite close — she’d warned me of this. “You can snoop around if you want,” she shouts. “It’s just a little mouse house. It’s fucking perfect for me.”
I have been in her presence for about two minutes. The first thing she did was offer to loan me a T-shirt because I mentioned I was hot. Slate used to do a stand-up routine about how her mom refused to sew her name into her shirt in elementary school, “because she was like, ‘You’re too friendly, and some stranger would just be like, Jenny! Come into the van!’ ”
There’s an obvious person missing so far from this tale of pillows versus patriarchy, but she’s not hiding anything; we just haven’t gotten to it yet. “When I moved in here, I’d been through my divorce and a breakup,” she says, returning from the bathroom and referring to the ten or so months she spent dating Chris Evans, best known as Captain America, and her much more famous co-star in Gifted an upcoming film about a family struggling with a young girl’s genius affinity for math. The internet went wild over their apples-and-oranges compatibility: a brash Jewish comedienne beloved for oversharing about her bodily functions on talk shows and voicing Marcel the Shell With Shoes On, a tiny stop-motion conch with a single eye and feet who talks about being so small he can hang-glide on a Dorito, in a series of YouTube shorts she made with Fleischer-Camp — and a world-famous Marvel superhero, who also happens to be a Massachusetts momma’s boy with one of the most insanely ripped bodies on the planet. “We used to talk about what kinds of animals we were,” says Slate. “Chris said it’s like I’m a chick riding on a St. Bernard’s head. We’re an odd match.”
Paparazzi tried to snap them, bloggers scrutinized their Instagrams, tabloids obsessively covered their one appearance together on a red carpet. Slate didn’t read the coverage, but it was extremely kind, with most articles praising Slate for taking a chance on Evans, or noting that his coolness factor had jumped several notches because of his proximity to her. Maybe this crazy thing could work out! There was something beautiful, in a year marked by division, to think of these two opposites finding common ground. He was 35; she was 34. They’d grown up half an hour from each other. They were both outspoken liberals. They’d said really adorable things about each other on Anna Faris’s podcast.
And then, a few weeks before I met Slate, news broke that it was over. In her life, though, she’d already spent several months dealing with that loss and having to find a place to live, crashing with friends in Venice Beach in January. “I watched You’ve Got Mail so many times, it was unbelievable,” she says. Was she weeping most of the time? “Yeah, I did it right.” Eventually, she found this new apartment and purged everything she owned except for a few clothes she loves, books, precious objects, and a velvet chair once belonging to her great-grandmother. “I was like, ‘You need all new things. You are a working woman. Maybe this is an indulgence, but just start over,’ ” she says. “It’s like, Fuck.”
The other night, she tells me, she was sitting at a bar by herself, reading a book about the Holocaust, and finally sent an SOS text to her friend Mae Whitman. “I was just like, ‘Can you please help me? I’m so lonely.’ And she came and we got shitbombed, and I woke up the next morning and saw my headphones on my neighbor’s yard. I have no idea how they ended up there.”
As Slate gives me the tour of her place, Reggie trails her every move. “He’s like a little soul mirror of me. We’re a lot the same,” she says. How so? “Needing closeness. Despair when left alone. But also he’s very excited to misbehave when left alone. So he doesn’t know what he wants.”
Ever since she was a pip-squeak at Camp Tapawingo in Sweden, Maine, Slate has known what she wanted to be: an actress, like Amy Irving or Gilda Radner or Madeline Kahn. That or “Jewish Felicity,” taking over Manhattan, like in the TV show. In the aughts, she came up in the alternative-stand-up-comedy scene in New York, where she garnered attention for a one-woman show as different characters eulogizing an eccentric millionaire, got cast on Saturday Night Live, and wasfired one season in after accidentally cursing on-air in her first sketch. That ego blow hurt a little less when she made the awards-circuit rounds for Obvious Child, a low-budget romantic comedy about two people navigating an abortion after a one-night stand, and she’s built a devoted fan base through her outrageous characters on the Kroll Show and Parks and Recreation, not to mention her great voice work with Marcel, Bob’s Burgers, The Secret Life of Pets (as an anxious Pomeranian), and Zootopia (as a villainous sheep). In 2012, she relocated from Brooklyn to L.A. Her relationship with Evans is easily the most Hollywood thing she’s ever done. She shows me a photo of her aura on her fridge, taken in New York’s Chinatown. There’s a thick concentration of “productive energy,” which is good, since she has a lot of work coming up, and a giant cloud of worry and overthinking, which seems to be dissipating. By the sink are potholders she made as a kid on a little loom and a drawing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg that Fleischer-Camp brought her as a housewarming gift. “We’re good friends. That’s why we got divorced,” says Slate. “If we didn’t get divorced, we wouldn’t be able to be friends and we wouldn’t be able to do our work. We had just grown apart, and we love each other. It wasn’t easy, but not bad.” She pauses. “No, it was bad. But not essentially bad.”
Her mother, a ceramicist, and father, a lauded poet, are still married; she wrote a book about her childhood home in Massachusetts with her dad this year. Her younger sister, Stacey, a mental-health counselor in Brooklyn, had come over on the previous weekend and helped her put up pictures. (Her elder sister, Abby, is a nurse-practitioner in Massachusetts, and Slate is convinced her middle-child need for attention is what nudged her toward showbiz.) Covering the top of her dresser are snapshots she hasn’t figured out what to do with, such as the one of her in a revealing tank top at Columbia University, where she went from high-school valedictorian to pothead almost instantly. “This is me when I was a slutty virgin,” she explains. “A virgin but trying to act like I knew what was going on.”
Somewhere beneath a pile of half-read books is her bedside table. She hates computers so much she doesn’t keep one in the house, and she often turns to books when scrolling through Twitter on her phone stresses her out, which it always does. Current favorites include The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, and Emma, a children’s book with Barbara Cooney illustrations that she bought on Etsy and loves so much she put it on display so she could see it when she wakes up. “It’s about an old woman who doesn’t love how she’s alone, and then learns to make herself not alone through art, and draws people into her life through art. It’s the fucking best thing.”
The instinct other young actresses have to keep every interesting thing about themselves under wraps — or the toughness that female comics often give off — wouldn’t be very useful in Slate’s case. Her brand, if you can call it that, is built on vulnerability, whether she’s revealing her innermost insecurities through an animated shell or telling Seth Meyers on TV that she was so stoned in college she accidentally signed up for an astronomy class thinking she’d learn about astrology. Not to mention that she and Evans met while playing love interests in a movie that is now coming out and that she needs to promote. That’s hard to get around.
“I don’t mind talking about him at all. He’s a lovely person,” she says. “I don’t know. It feels like such a huge thing. Last year was a giant, big year for my heart. I’ve never, ever thought to keep anything private because that’s not really what I’m like, and now I’m learning those things, and they’re weird, kind of demented lessons to learn.”
She didn’t set out to have a tabloid-­fodder romance. She’d fought hard for her part in Gifted, as a teacher who falls for Evans’s character, a working-class guy trying to give his prodigy niece (Mckenna Grace) a normal childhood. Slate’s part is not huge, but it’s a big studio picture. It got her in the room with director Marc Webb and Fox Searchlight. She liked the script, but more than that, “I was just like, ‘I want viability as an American film actress. I want to find my own seat at the main dinner table, because I want to do this forever, and I want to show that it doesn’t always have to be a bikini model opposite Captain America.’ ”
Evans and Slate met at her chemistry read — the audition in which it’s determined whether two romantic leads play well together — and they instantly got along. “I remember him saying to me, ‘You’re going to be one of my closest friends.’ I was just like, ‘Man, I fucking hope this isn’t a lie, because I’m going to be devastated if this guy isn’t my friend.’ ” The first time they went out to dinner, as co-workers getting to know each other, she remembers insisting they split the bill over Evans’s strenuous objections. “If you take away my preferences, you take away my freedom,” she says she told him. “Then I was like, Oh, man, is this dude going to be like, ‘Ugh, this bra-burner.’ Instead, he was like, ‘Tell me more.’ ” They drew from that friendship for their flirting on film, but the time when they jump into bed together in the movie felt as awkward as you hear all love scenes do. “It’s one of those scenes where you bust through a door making out. I’ve never done that in my life,” says Slate. “I remember apologizing to him after. I’m pretty sure I kneed him in the balls.”
Slate was in a weird space at the time. Her marriage was dissolving, and she was working only two or three days a week, and spending her days off wandering around Savannah’s many parks and doing yoga and writing that book, About the House, with her dad. (Which, incidentally, the publisher gave away free with any donation to any charity.) Every weekend, Evans would organize a game night for the cast and crew — usually something called “running charades,” which sounds like high-speed pantomime — that she begrudgingly went to, even though all she wanted to do was hang out on the porch and drink beer and smoke cigarettes. “At first I was like, ‘What a fucking nightmare,’ ” she says. “Chris is a different speed than me — I think he really did just jump out of a plane for an interview. And so when he was like, ‘Game nights,’ I was like, ‘This is annoying. This guy’s like a sports guy. He’s the kid that likes P.E.’ ” But finally his enthusiasm won her over. “I first really liked Chris as a person because he is so unpretentious,” she says. “He is a straight-up 35-year-old man who wants to play games. That’s it. I was like, ‘I’d better not discount this, because this is purity.’ ” It also helped that she’s so competitive she constantly won.
As they got to know each other, she learned he’s still close with people from his childhood, and his best friend is a woman. “What’s the same about us is not just that we’re from Massachusetts, which was such a delight, but Chris is truly one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, to the point where sometimes I would look at him and it would kind of break my heart,” she says. “He’s really vulnerable, and he’s really straightforward. He’s like primary colors. He has beautiful, big, strong emotions, and he’s really sure of them. It’s just wonderful to be around. His heart is probably golden-colored, if you could paint it.”
They didn’t fall for each other on set. “To be quite honest, I didn’t think I was his type,” she says. (Evans has dated Jessica Biel and Minka Kelly). “Eventually, when it was like, Oh, you have these feelings for me?, I was looking around like, Is this a prank? I mean, I understand why I think I’m beautiful, but if you’ve had a certain lifestyle and I’m a very, very different type of person — I don’t want to be an experiment.” Evans never made her feel that way, but it was hard to get past how so many people seemed to feel some ownership of him and view her as an interloper. “If you are a woman who really cares about her freedom, her rights, her sense of being an individual, it is confusing to go out with one of the most objectified people in the entire world,” she says. Especially when she’s aware that in Hollywood, she says, “I’m considered some sort of alternative option, even though I know I’m a majorly vibrant sexual being.” And especially when random ladies would come up to her at CVS, “being like, ‘Oh my God, is that Chris Evans? He’s so hot!’ You’re like, ‘How dare you? That’s my boyfriend. But yes, he’s so hot.’ ”
Every time Slate mentions Evans, it keeps coming back to the same thing: As much as they loved being with one another, she says, “we’re really, really different,” with different social circles and different lifestyles. Slate comes from a DIY comedy scene, and most of her friends are fellow comics and gay guys. “Chris is a very, very famous person,” she says. “For him to go to a restaurant is totally different than for me to go. I sit in my window and I say ‘Hi’ to people on the street. I have more freedom because I’m not Captain America. I’m mostly a cartoon.” She kept waiting for everything to feel normal, but it never did. “This is what I needed to do to feel normal. To be alone.”
That meant day-to-day they mostly stayed home, “which was really nice,” she says. But it was also one of the most anxious years of her life. She fretted over the “psychos” on the internet who turned her relationship with Evans into a pissing contest with Fleischer-Camp. And she struggled seeing the person she was in love with deal with the side-effects of fame. “The stress that I saw him be put under, I’ve never seen that before, and he handled that really gracefully,” she says. What she wasn’t taking into account was that he’s used to it. “He’s not stressed,” she says. “I was the person that was stressed.”
She’s also aware in hindsight that she hadn’t processed her separation before she got together with Evans. It wasn’t as scandalous as tabloid reports made it sound — as with any long-term relationship that splinters, they’d been on the rocks long before it was official. But, she says, “When Chris and I started dating, my husband and I had only been separated for a couple of months.” The divorce actually went through while she was at the Sundance Film Festival, after she and Evans broke up. “Even though we had an amicable divorce, I think that’s still something that you need to mourn. When you get separated from somebody that you actually care about, it is the destruction of a belief system. That is really, really sad.” Throughout all of it, the divorce, the new love, she says, “I just didn’t have the tools. And I didn’t think very hard about that, to be honest. I wanted to step into the light. Chris is a sunny, loving, really fun person, and I didn’t really understand why I should be prudent.”
Are she and Evans on good terms? “We’re not on bad terms, but we haven’t really seen each other, spoken a lot,” she says. “I think it’s probably best. I’d love to be his friend one day, but we threw down pretty hard. No regrets, though. Ever.”
Slate introduces me to the mascots of her new home, two cute mice figurines in jaunty outfits who look like they’re off to travel the world. “The way I feel now is I’ve stepped out of the woods and I’m a forest animal and I’m standing on the lawn,” she says. “And if anybody tried to approach me right now, they’re seeing a creature that’s just trying to figure out what the lawn is like. All I’m thinking about is the lawn. I’m not thinking about whether or not they are going to be a fun person to be on the lawn with, because I am just trying to be on the lawn.” And what or where is this lawn? “It’s just where I am,” she says. “I like the lawn. It’s filled with air, freedom, sunlight, and I’m alone.”
Slate wants to step out in the sunlight now, with a walk around the Silver Lake Reservoir. She bids good-bye to Reggie and turns on the TV to keep him company. “I watch Twin Peaks, but Reggie watches Frasier,” she says. That morning, while Slate was walking him, a woman got out of her car and stopped in her tracks. “She was like, ‘Oh, are you Jenny Slate?’ And I said, ‘I am.’ And she said something nice to me and I said, ‘Thank you so much. I need a lot of encouragement,’ which is usually what I say because it’s true.”
Dating Evans actually, weirdly, spurred her to double down on her career, because, she says, “I don’t want people to ask me more about my love life because of him than they ask me about my work,” and in order to ensure that, she’d have to produce a lot of work. She does stand-up in small clubs whenever possible and had two films at Sundance this January, just as the paperwork for her divorce came through: The Polka King, the true story of a polka-world Ponzi scheme, opposite Jack Black; and Landline, a story of two Jewish-Italian sisters and their parents having life and love crises in ’90s New York City, with Obvious Child creators Gillian Robespierre and Elisabeth Holm (out July 21). Soon she’ll be heading to Vancouver for a road-trip movie with Evan Rachel Wood, Alison Pill, and Cynthia Erivo, which is also Wood’s directorial debut. She and Fleischer-Camp are also at work on a feature-length Marcel the Shell movie, which she says will be “a character portrait much like Billy the Kid or Grey Gardens.”
Today, she’s leaning in to International Women’s Day by wearing a sundress covered in red roses and made by a company, Day Space Night, that’s run by women. She even canceled her one meeting with a man, an appearance on Snoop Dogg’s podcast, so she could have an entirely penis-free day. And she’s planning on ending the day by going with her girlfriends to a 90-minute seminar on fertility and reproductive rights.
A vocal supporter of Planned Parenthood, Slate credits Obvious Child not just for allowing her to prove she’s a legitimate actress, but also for turning her into a women’s rights activist. Back when she signed on, she says, “I still felt embarrassed of the word feminist.” Then one day discussing a costume fitting with co-star Gaby Hoffmann, Slate jokingly apologized for showing up with “crazy bush,” she says. “And Gaby did not take it as a joke. She was really serious and she looked at me and she was like, ‘I didn’t know we were supposed to apologize for that.’ I was like, Oh, I’m being a fool. I need to learn this shit right now.”
And now that she’s got a financial cushion from Zootopia and Secret Life of Pets, she can act on what she’s learned and say “no” more often. Specifically, she’s drawing the line at any movie that, she says, “makes it okay to laugh about things like women’s bodies after birth, like when women who’ve just had babies are referring to their vaginas as all ruined. I think it’s really rude for someone to disparage a vagina in the female body after it’s just fucking created and exploded a baby into our world. It makes me furious and I will not change my opinion on that.”
Also a no-go are any roles she’s offered that “seem like a weird stereotype version of me. Like Quirky Best Friend: ‘She doesn’t have a filter! She talks about poop!’ ” She thinks it’s worth it to hold out for roles with nuance, that will allow her to lean into humor and tragedy equally, and get to the heart of the human condition. In the meantime, she has plenty of personal-growth goals. She wants to learn Norwegian this summer. She wants to spend time with her family on Martha’s Vineyard. And she wants to find a farm she can help on so she can be around animals.
Eventually, she’ll try dating again, too. “I am inclined toward partnership,” she says. “I’m like a mallard, definitely looking for my other duck. But I’ve been in love in very strong ways enough times now that there are just some compromises maybe I won’t make.” He has to know who Gloria Steinem is, for one thing. She’s thinking maybe a scientist with a sense of humor. But definitely someone who’s sure enough in who he is to accept that she’s had a past without him. “Whoever is the next person is going to have to respect that I had a husband who I loved and this boyfriend who I loved so much, and I don’t want to have to act like they weren’t important.”
We’re back at the apartment and Slate is overjoyed that Reggie hasn’t peed on anything. Speaking of pasts, she’ll also soon be hitting the press tour for Gifted with Evans. “I feel pretty relaxed about it right now,” she says, sounding not entirely convincing. “That’s because I know Chris and he’s a very nice man. And we’ve gone into our separate lives. But that doesn’t also mean that I’m going to sleep well the night before, you know?”
First, she’s taking her parents to Cabo San Lucas to celebrate her 35th birthday. I suddenly have a horror flashback to a similar trip to Cabo I took years ago and warn her not to drink the water or brush her teeth with it, or to have ice or eat anything raw, or maybe to eat anything at all.
“Oh God,” she says, laughing, “having raging diarrhea is just a real on-brand nightmare for me.”
She thinks for a second. “But, you know, it would be such an icebreaker. If I showed up with, like, a spray tan and a blowout, he’d be like, ‘What happened to Jenny?’ But if I was able to say, ‘Aw, man, I have diarrhea,’ he’d be like, ‘It’s you. I remember you.’ ”
*This article appears in the March 20, 2017, issue of New York Magazine.
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eggcompany · 6 months ago
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Lost Bears Part 2
That night when Jamie showed up to watch the rest of the show, dressed in comfy clothes, he had Roy following behind him, something wrapped up in shopping bags. Jamie kicked his trainers at the door, shucking his zip jacket off to get comfy on the couch. He hugged Keeley briefly, saying hey, before flopping onto the couch. 
“Hey, I’m gonna order Italian, I know what everyone likes?” Keeley said, phone out in her hand, having thought over dinner for the last hour. 
“Yeah.” Jamie said and Roy stood by Keeley. Just standing there, looking at her, bag in hand. 
“And the bag is?” Keeley asked softly, hand landing on Roy’s forearm, not reaching for the bag but referencing it. 
“Bear-Bear, and a pack of biscuits.” Jamie answered with a smile and made himself comfy on the couch, pulling the folded blanket apart. Roy looked down at his hand and forced his clenched fingers to relax. Keeley took the plastic bag, untying it, she left there, hanging open from Roy’s fingers. 
“Are you any better now Roy? Are you feeling any… safer?” Keeley asked quietly and rubbed up and down Roy’s bicep. He was so strong, solid and warm under his shirt, she always loved that about him. His solid warmth she could always fall back on. But she saw the soft side of him now, his eyes looking up, finally catching her own gaze. He shrugged, not shaking his head no, so she took it as progress in the right way. 
“Okay, it’s okay. We’re gonna make sure you’re alright. Why don’t you go get a shower, you’re staying the night again, the guest bed is just the way you like it if you don’t end up staying on the sofa again.” Keeley explained, trying to sound calm and cool. She’s made up the bed how Roy needed it, with the heavy blankets and the pillows that stayed cold and cranked the fans up. He liked being cool and weighed down. She knew how to get that done. 
Roy nodded and looked at her hand that laid in the crook of his elbow. He had a thinking look on his face, swallowing thickly before he spoke. 
“The blue blanket… Can I have it?” Roy asked and kept his eyes to the side, on Keeley’s hand unable to meet her eyes anymore. Keeley paused and swallowed. The blue blanket. Not a blue blanket. The blue blanket. 
The blue blanket Roy had told her felt like the one he had when he was a kid. The blue blanket she’d wrap around him after six too many drinks or when his knuckles were freshly wrapped from punching concrete or that one time he bashed his own head into a wall until he passed out. 
That was the hurt blanket. That was the hospital visit, having an episode, ‘we’re gonna pretend it didn’t happen till the morning blanket. 
Doctor Fieldstone had called the blanket a grounding item, like the blankets they put on shock patients. It was a blanket that made Keeley feel sick to her stomach.  
“The blue blanket?” Keeley asked and felt her own heart picked up, she just needed to make sure. Roy nodded and looked back up at her finally. His eyes were watery, chaos rolling in his mind behind them. 
“Can you sit in the bathroom?” Roy asked, tears sitting in the lines of his eyes, barely contained. Keeley felt a cold shock roll through her, freezing her to her core. 
“Roy, do you need to go to the hospital? I’m being serious, I’ll tell Ted you can’t be coming for a few days, we can say you’re on vacation.” Keeley offered and kept looking at Roy who shook his head. She was dead serious, voice steady and unwavering. 
If she had to take him to the mental ward, it would be fine. She could have the NDAs printed in ten minutes, lord knows she had them saved. Roy just shook his head, moving his free hand to catch hers, giving it a squeeze. 
“I feel… tired. My head is too fucking full. Fieldstone on Monday. Just don’t wanna fuckin… be” Roy explained in a struggled manner, like it hurt him to even try and make the words form in his mouth. 
Keeley took a minute to think it through. It was Friday. Monday would make him reset. Seeing the doctor would help and she would send him to the hospital if he needed it or on vacation or give him advice to help him get over it. Only the weekend and it would be all better. Keeley could handle that. 
“I want you to go get in the shower upstairs, leave the door open. I’m going to get the blanket and get everything set up in here. Jamie can go home and then we-” Keeley started to explain, laying out her plan, but Roy spoke up, cutting her off. 
“He doesn’t have to.” Roy said, stopping Keeley in her tracks. She was going to just tell Jamie and send him home, they could watch the show some other time, Jamie would understand. But if Roy wanted him to stay, or felt like having Jamie there would help with the awkwardness, so be it. 
“Oh, alright. Then I’ll come sit in the bathroom with you while he sets everything up down here. Can you get in the shower and get cleaned up for me though? By yourself for just a minute?” Keely asked, squeezing Roy’s hand, moving to be in his field of vision. Roy nodded and took his hand away, shoving the bag covered teddy bear into Keeley’s chest before turning for the stairs. 
“Yeah. Yeah.” He grumbled, almost drowned out by the crinkle of the plastic bag as Keeley took Bear-Bear out. She sighed and walked to the couch. 
“Jamie, I'm telling you this once and only once. You know when you had your big fit? Your big one and you broke your finger?” Keeley said sternly when she heard the shower kick on upstairs. 
Her and Jamie had been dating for a bit when he had his big fit. He’d come home having been shoved around by his dad after a shitty match, scratch on his cheek that Keeley had tried to tape up but he’d just broken. Screaming that he wasn’t a baby, that he didn’t need her treating him like he was six. He’d pulled a shelf from the wall to the floor, kicked the cabinet doors, and tried punching the fridge while wailing like a possessed man. Keeley had just watched him, calling an ambulance when she saw the way his finger twisted to the side. He’d just laid on the kitchen floor, curled up knees to his chest, hands on his ears, cabinet door splintered beside his head, and wailed. The paramedics had to sedate him to keep him from hyperventilating. 
She wasn’t scared, never had been scared of Jamie hurting her, but she knew he needed help. She’d been at the hospital the next morning with NDAs for the psych ward nurses and everyone else who needed to help Jamie. And he came out better, apologized, and bandaged up. The stress of everyone looking at you, it got to a person, she knew that. She knew that when she was with Roy. That the eyes were still glaring at him. 
Jamie nodded, remembering the shitty food and the stupid brace on his finger. 
“Yeah? It sucked. You made me stay in the hospital for, like, ever.” He said and absentmindedly reached to his pinkie that had snapped. Keeley looked at him, trying to make sure he knew what she was saying. 
“It was two days but you remember that it was horrible and you felt horrible and it was scary? For everyone, it was scary.” She said and raised an eyebrow at him. Jamie nodded, guilt still digging at him years later. 
“Duh it was shit” Jamie said but his voice hung heavy with guilt, with seriousness that was never present. Keeley took a breath, calming herself. 
“Roy’s there. He’s right there. No old man jokes, no poking him, no teasing. He is so close to falling apart completely. Understood?” Keeley said and got into Jamie’s space, looking up at him. She watched his face turn pale, eyes widen. He swallowed, opened his mouth, and closed it again before clearing his throat and nodding. 
“Un-understood. Should I leave?” He asked, eyes going to the front door. He could leave, leave and it could be between Roy and Keeley, they were dating after all. He was just… He was just Roy’s friend. Keeley put Roy’s bear down next to Jamie on the couch. 
“He wants you to stay. Just get the food, the blankets, put the show on. Just don’t… ignore the fact he’s an actual active volcano right now. Like he’s…. Ya know?” Keely said as she went to the linen closet that held her million throw blankets and couch pillows. She pulled out the blue blanket from the very very very bottom and a couple extra pillows. Jamie was nodding, remote in hand already up to fix the couch and make tea. 
“Roy, what'd you feel like wearing? I know you like wearing your shirt and pants, why don’t we just put these on and wrap you up in blankie. Come down right away, food’s going to be here in a sec." Keeley said and brough the found (definitely not kept) pair of Roy's boxer briefs and one of his shirts she'd kept (it was left.) She put them on the sink, folded up like she hadn’t worn them, before sitting next to them on the counter. She could see through the fogged class Roy was just standing under the steaming hot water, letting the water half drown him. She sighed and leaned back against the mirror, he didn’t even flinch. 
“And Bear is waiting downstairs for you. Jamie too.” She said and that got a response, a slight nodding of his head, his shoulders drooping a bit further, a big breath shaking through his chest. Keeley just watched, watched until he was turning the water off, opening the door to reach the towel she had laid out for him. 
She let her eyes take him in. He always looked good, strong and healthy. She watched the water roll down his chest, off his hips, down his legs. She couldn’t help but smile at the way he scrubbed the water away roughly, like he was mad at it. He always did that and always his skin was still damp when he was done, hair soaking the collar of his shirt until Keeley toweled it off better. 
She took his hand, his rough palm a warm solid reminder he was alive, and took him to the couch just in time to catch Jamie tipping the delivery boy and hauling the food in. Roy picked at his food, taking small slow bites and then looking at Keeley or Jamie, watching them eat before taking another bite for himself. 
Keeley watched him, he was always weird with food, she didn’t understand but she watched until he had eaten his portion before finally stopped picking at her own.
Jamie threw away the trash, being as quiet as he could, stealing obvious glances at Roy as the older man leaned on Keeley heavily, bear tucked in his lap. 
Keeley was rubbing at Roy’s shoulders and neck, hands working on the tense muscles and tight knots. It made his eyes slide shut and content sighs leak from his lips, his mind finally starting to spin down. Jamie was dead set on watching the show as his own hands found Roy’s feet and ankles, careful as he dug his fingers into the pressure points. 
Roy was calm, the air in the room felt different than the night before, than a few hours ago when they arrived. It felt… warmer. Something had shifted and Jamie could feel it in the back of his neck down to his hands where he touched Roy’s clean warm skin. Keeley could feel it too, like Roy’s gloom had lifted off them all, at least a bit.
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callmemana · 2 years ago
Text
Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall:
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Chapter 2: Before The Storm
Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Amanda ‘Birdie’ Hallett (OC)
Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Baylie ‘Lucky’ Steele ( @bayisdying ) (OC)
Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Rachael ‘Dragon’ Kazansky ( @dragon-kazansky ) (OC)
Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner x Jade ‘Whiskey’ Kerner ( @mrsjaderogers ) (OC)
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Grace ‘Spicy’ Bradshaw ( @gracespicybradshaw ) (OC)
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Alana ‘Cinco’ Metcalf ( @mrsjaderogers ) (OC)
Word Count: 5k+
Summary: After a night at the Hard Deck where the girls keep getting hit on, they decide the next day to do something together without the guys. The girls all have a ‘Girl’s Night In’ , a very pregnant Spicy & an excited Cinco meets Birdie and the girls watch romantic comedy movies, eat junk food, and talk about exes. The group overhears a weird conversation with Fanboy, Lucky, & Birdie. Movie quotes and as always sassy Lucky.
🚨 Warnings: nothing just angst & fluff
A/N📋: dividers by @sligheach-sidhe , cover by me ( @callmemana ).
Thank you @mrsjaderogers and @bayisdying for helping and proof reading!
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Robert Floyd knew that the others had started to catch on to his pulling back.
He hadn’t exactly been subtle about it, as soon as the carrier brought them back to land was when he stopped hanging out with the squad.
Bob was like smoke in the wind, hard to find.
He was sitting in his apartment’s living room, looking at the old photographs that he kept of Bird, silently kicking himself when the doorbell rang.
Bob didn’t get up until the third time the visitor pressed the button, then he groaned and quickly stashed the photos in one of the books on his coffee table.
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Mickey. It was a work night, and it was already 11:45.
With furrowed brows, he gestured for the other male to come in and into the living room as he closed the front door and followed.
Bob went to the kitchen as Mickey made himself at home, grabbing two beers and twisting the cap off before making his way back to the couch.
He stood frozen in his step as he saw what Mickey had in his hand, an old photo of himself and his Birdie.
He could remember the exact day that the photograph was taken.
A week after their first date, they were on the tarmac walking to their respective jets, when Bird jumped onto his back, ruffled his hair, and kissed his cheek obnoxiously.
The photo had captured the aftermath and the kiss.
Athena had printed two out the next day, saying that ‘it was just so cute not to save forever.’
Well jokes on her, the memory might be kept forever, but we ended up breaking each other’s hearts.
Mickey sat on the loved couch, flabbergasted and mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Bob, who’s this woman?”
The man in question sighed, sat down, and handed over the extra beer to his nerdy best friend, “That’s nobody special.”
“Seems pretty special to me companero,” muttered Mickey as he comforted his friend.
“Doesn’t matter anymore, We’re broken up.” he shrugged as he took a pull from his beer.  
Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, “I’m not gonna lie, we all thought that you hadn’t ever had a girlfriend, you’re very shy and reserved.”
Bob laughed, “Mick, I might be shy and reserved, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find love.”
“LOVE? Who are you and what have you done with my friend.”
“She brought out a different side of me. She was like a tornado, chaotic. But she was never afraid to take the next step even if she was scared and would take me with her on every adventure she went on.”
“She sounds amazing, I’m kinda mad I didn’t get to meet the other you or her.”
“You’d love her, she’s a nerd about The Avengers and Star Wars. We’d say the Han and Leia thing from Empire Strikes Back.”
“That’s awesome. I try to get Lucky to, but she just says ‘No,’ and walks away. She needs to realize that she married a nerd and this said nerd likes to quote movies to his loved one.”
“Mick, I hate to tell you this, but Lucky’s never gonna say that to you. She loves you, and absolutely knows your a nerd, I mean look at your helmet, it's in Star Trek font.”
He laughed and took a pull of his room temperature beer, “Yeah, I should’ve guessed that. It would be nice if once or twice to hear her quote a sci-fi movie to me its like dirty talk to me.”
“I didn’t need to know that.” Bob with furrowed brows and finishing off his bottle.
Mickey just shrugged and then finished his own beer.
Bob tipped his head at the empty and he got a nod from his friend and then walked to the kitchen for another round.
As soon as he left, Mickey took the photo out of the book and captured a picture of it to send to his unofficial FBI agent of a wife.
The two men talked for a while longer before Mickey had to leave to get home to Lucky.
They exchanged manly pats on the back as Mickey left.
Bob sat in his place on the couch again and took out the photos. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her as of late.
It might be because of his friends’ recent marriage, but he couldn’t know for sure.
He knew when he left that he had no right to think about her afterwards. Their relationship was ancient history.
Bob wasn’t proud in the way he ended it, the most awful way, making sure that she wouldn’t try to get back together if he survived the mission.
This seemed like this was his one hundredth mistake when it came to his relationship with Bird.
It not only hurt her, but him in the process.
Bob was in love and going to marry her someday, knew that as soon as their first date ended.
It was kind of funny to think that if he didn’t do what he did, they could both be in Miramar right now in his off-base housing, snuggling close with Ozzy inbetween them and watching a movie and eating junk food.
Bob missed the good morning kisses, breakfast eaten together, driving to base together, and so many other things that he and Bird did every day.
His days had gone boring since the relocation, sure he had made new friends, but its different without her here with him.
Bob tried to be more social, but it seemed impossible to come out of his shell with these new people he's come to know.
Most of the aviators for the uranium mission had an oversized ego that crashed with each other on a day to day basis.
Mostly Hangman and Rooster in the beginning, but now they have put aside their rivalry and became some what friendly towards one another.
Mickey and Natasha could possibly be the only actual friends that knows the most about him.
He doesn’t blame the others though, Bob’s a hard nut to break on personal information.
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The next day, he came to base with his face neutral and a cup holder full of to-go coffee for the squad.
Bob handed them out to each recipient and sat down in his normal spot, right by Phoenix but across from Mickey and Rueben.
The other nerdy Wizzo leaned into Bob’s space, whispering,“Hey man, I just wanna say that I’m sorry for showing up unannounced yesterday.”
He waved him off, “It’s fine Mick, no trouble. I was digging up bones that shouldn’t stayed buried.”
Fanboy gave him a look, “Are you sure? It was rude of me to do that.”
“I’m sure, no harm done. I needed to get outta my head anyway.”
He didn’t miss the way that Phoenix and Mickey shared a worried look at their friend’s mood.
Bob knew that the other’s were suspicious about his overnight shift in personality too.
As he scanned the room, In the front of the class, Lucky could be seen on her phone typing away rapidly.
Bob noted this and just thought that she was in the girls’ group chat ranting about something exciting that had happened the day prior.
Little did he know, she was on the internet and researching about the mystery lady that Mickey had found the picture of in Bob’s apartment yesterday.
Getting very little information about the female aviator.
Bob glanced at his phone, checking the time. Maverick’s late.
He takes a sip of his steaming coffee, only to wince and open the lid to cool it down faster.
“Hey Bob, you okay?”
“Yeah Nix, just burnt my tongue, I’ll be alright.” he spares her a small smile, which she returns.
Small sentences was all that he gave them anymore, and he could tell that they were getting tired of them quickly.
“You going to the Hard Deck tonight?” questioned Rooster.
“I don’t think so, I got chores to do around the house. Maybe next time.”
“You’ve blown us off the last five times, come on.” “Yeah, come on Bob. We miss you.”
He just shakes his head, “I’ve put it off for weeks now, It needs to be done tonight before I forget.”
“Then maybe we can help?” offered Payback. “Many hands make light work.” commented Mickey.
“Nah, its okay. It’s better if I just do it anyway. Thank you though,” finished Bob as he tried his coffee again, this time the perfect temperature.
Behind Bob, all around the other members of the squad looked at eachother and nodded, a plan already set in motion.
It wasn’t long afterwards that Maverick entered the hanger and walked to the front where the podium was. The flight lesson begins.
Bob was exhausted after the day they had, another stupid bet made with the Captain had all of the failing aviators doing another set of two hundred pushups thanks to Payback and Fanboy.
He drove home, took a shower, and ate dinner before he went to the spare room where the boxes that had his last bit of possessions from his shared house in Lemoore sat untouched.
Bob didn’t want to go through them, too many happy memories were woven into the objects that they held.
Too much hurt and tears also could be found in those stupid boxes.
He went to his kitchen and found his stash of Jack Daniels in the cupboard, took three large gulps and waited for the buzz to kick in before going back to the room.
A pair of scissors used as an opener, he cut the first box and pulled out the bear that he had won her at the county fair that they later named Chewy because of the resimbilence to the character.
Pictures of their relationship from the past four years, goofy and serious, had tears threatening his waterline.
The tie she bought him for the first Naval Award Dinner they went to and a shoebox full of old ticket stubs from all of their movie or concert dates.
Those alone could break his heart further than it already was, but he needed the fresh wound to sting.
The last thing he took out had him reaching for the bottle again, taking a drink equally as immense as the first two gulps, and brought the item out.
It was a vintage style Star Wars shirt he had owned since he was in High School.
Bob could remember every time she’d steal that shirt to sleep in when she missed him while he was over seas on a mission.
He shifted the shirt towards his nose and inhaled, her body soap still intertwined in the fabric.
This was the final crack in the dam, unshead tears falling quietly and onto the shirt.
Bob’s emotions changed quickly into anger as he reached for the bottle again, drinking a third in one sitting.
He hated himself for what he did, how could he not.
And like every old country song, he relied on alcohol to fix his mistakes. As if that would really help the situation and not bring him closer to self-destruction.
The next box didn’t help his mood.
He grabbed the letters that the couple had sent back and forth while they were deployed in different bases out of the box and started to open the envelopes one by one, reading every word.
Bob missed her little notes she’d leave all round the house, his locker, manual, helmet, and many other places.
The third box actually had him laughing, it carried some pillows and blankets, and something else.
On the bottom, there was the nerf gun and about half of the ammo that Bird had bought so they could have nerf gun wars to see who would cook dinner that night or did certain chores that neither of them liked to do.
It was a fun way to decide who did the tasks and a great way for them to take it easy after a hard day on base or in the air.
Bob stood with the toy in hand and put in on a shelf in the living room, this would be showcased and could be used on Mickey or anyone else that pissed him off.
With three of the five boxes emptied, Bob took the time to start and put some of the other things away.
He took the smaller items and put them into one box, found a sharpie and labeled it “memories,” and then put it in his closet.
The Star War shirt was put in the dirty clothes basket for him to wash the scent of her out of it once and for all. He couldn’t wear it again without the smell gone.
Bob went back and had another long swig before sitting back down and opening the second to last box.
Before he could, the doorbell rang. Distractly, he ran a hand through his already dishevled hair.
He chose to ignore the visitor, they’d leave if they thought he was asleep. The front room was dark and held no evidence that anyone was awake.
Looking at his watch, he read 10:57, about the time he usually went to sleep on a work day.
The knocking was persistent and getting louder as the seconds passed it seemed.
Groaning, Bob took one last pull of the Whiskey before making his way to the door. He didn’t look through the peephole, just swung the door open.
“Yes?” he grumbled, unaware of the worried faces his friends wore. He turned just a little and put the Daniel’s bottle on the counter closest to him.
“You said earlier that you had some chores to do, so we thought we’d stop by and see if you needed help anyway.”
“Like I said before, I’m fine. Almost done anyhow. Thanks for stopping by.” He said as he attempted to shut the door, only for Hangman to put his shoe in the way.
“Seriously Baby On Board, you were gonna slam the door on us?” smirked Hangman as the others make their way into the apartment, uninvited.
“I see you were visited by a good friend named Jack.” commented Lucky as she shook the bottle to show the others.
“I didn’t see this here yesterday, redecorating Bob?” questioned Mickey.
“I recently got some boxes filled with old things from a  friend back in Lemoore. If I’m stationed here permanently, I should probably make it look like I live here, don’t you think?”
“No need to get so defensive Robert,” “We’re just curious.”
“Anyway, where’s the boxes?” “None of your business, please just go home.”
“No can do, Robert. We’re not leaving until we at least help for a little while.”
“I can do it by myself, I am fully capable of opening boxes and putting shit away.”
“Not if you smell like a brewery, which you do, by the way. It’s not safe to be around sharp objects in your condition.”
“Then I’ll turn in for the night and finish it tomorrow, there is no more danger,” Bob rolled his eyes at his friends, “goodbye now.”
He started to walk back down the hall towards his bedroom and stopped after he closed the door, waiting to hear the front door do the same.
But it never did, no, the others acted as if this was their own house and roamed as they pleased.
It took a total of sixity seconds for Bob to panic that they’d find the boxes and go through them.
Their curiosity getting the best of them, or maybe the need to snoop around the shy Wizzo’s house to get to know him better was just too much to handle.
Bob walked out of the room silently and slowly made his way to the spare room, key in hand. As soon as he got to the door, it was too late.
They had stumbled across the boxes, more specifically the opened box with memorabilia from Bird and his relationship.
The one he’d yet seen for himself.
The breath that he had held is let go as he sees just clothes peaking out of the box. But of course, Phoenix is observant as ever.
“Why is the boxed labelled with female handwriting Bob?” this causes all of the other aviators to glance at the front and smile or smirk.
“That’s none of your business Natasha, and I believe that I asked y’all to leave.” declared Bob, anger running thin.
“Dude, we just wanna get to know you better what’s the matter with that?” questioned Coyote.
“I have some things that I’d like to keep quiet and knowing you lot, it won’t be. You need to respect my want for privacy.”
Lucky, who’s had her phone attached to her face all night, looks up and smirks.
“So, is this Bird a private matter or are we allowed to know about her?”
Bob’s eyebrows furrow jaw tightens, “Like I’ve repeated several times tonight, none of your business. Leave.”
This time, he followed them to the door, slammed it in their faces, to show just how mad he is, and locked the door by deadbolt.
He went to the opened box and saw the note that was left on top, “Even though you said you didn’t, just know that I meant it every time.”
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Birdie’s day started how it always did, her arm reaching out to the other side of the bed to touch Bob, only to find nothing.
With that, she got up and did her morning routine, having breakfast, getting dressed, doing her hair, and brushing her teeth all before getting into her old Chevy and driving to base.
Athena, her best friend, waited at the front doors for her when she parked, holding a coffee and doughnut for herself.
“How you doing? Lucas and I have been worried about you lately.”
A fake smile shines through the exhaustion, “I’m fine. Just shipped the last of the boxes last week, he should be getting them soon. It just feels so real now. He’s really gone, Thena.”
The other woman turns and wraps her arms around her miserable friend, “I know Bird, I know. I’m sorry that he did that to you. I couldn’t believe it at first either, he was a good man.”
“I’m just flabbergasted about it, I thought we were happy together. What happened Thena, I thought we were each other’s soulmate.”
“Maybe you just wanted to believe that you were it for him, but he didn’t see it.” Thena rubbed Bird’s arms.
The women went to the locker room and changed into their flight suits, putting their electronics and other valuables in their individual lockers.
Before Bird could, her phone lit up with a notification from Facebook with a friend request.
She ignored it and turned her phone off, placing it in the locker and leaving the room, going to the hanger with Athena.
When the day was over, she showered, got the rest of her possessions from her locker, and left.
She made it home safely and ate dinner by herself in the living room, watching a Disney movie.
Bird was getting ready for bed as she looked at her phone screen again, remembering about the friend request.
She opened the app and checked out the woman’s who she didn’t recognized page.
‘Baylie ‘Lucky’ Garcia,’ it read and the newest photos showed her recent wedding with the love of her life, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia.
She scrolled through the posts and after a while, she saw a picture with Bob in the background, photobombing the couple with another dark haired women.
Bird felt the tears stream down her face, of course he’d move on so quick.
He already told her that he never loved her the same way she did. She had no right to feel this way towards him anymore.
Even if she had no contact with Bo anymore, doesn’t mean that she can’t see how he’s doing through his new friends.
So, with her mind made up, she pressed ‘accept’ and went to sleep.
The house felt odd without all of the things Bam left behind when he moved to San Diego.
But that wasn’t the right word, no. That would be empty.
The next morning she decided that it would be good for Ozzy to go on a walk, he’s missing Bo just as much as she was.
When the walk was over, Bird got ready for base and left shortly afterwards.
She stopped at a close-by bakery and ordered a large coffee and a chocolate muffin to go.
Once she had made it on base, Bird went to do her usual routine and ended up in the hanger with the other aviators.
She was happier than she had been in a while after her moring run with her pooch.
Athena noticed the difference in her appearance, and smiled. She was happy for her friend after the long dark period she had been through the last six months.
During lunch, Athena had finally asked about the mood change.
“So, Manny, why the good mood today?” she smirked as she chewed her bite of sandwich.
Bird just shrugged, “I don’t really know. I woke up and the smile was just there. The only thing that I did differently was take Oz on a morning walk instead of our evening walk.”
“It’s said to be better to workout during the morning than at night,” she nodded.
“Yeah, Oz loved it! He even found a cute little mushroom and I picked it.”
“That’s adorable, any pictures?”
Within seconds, Bird had her phone out of her pocket and swiped through her pictures to find the one from this morning.
What she didn’t anticipate, was being brought down memory lane as soon as she saw it again.
“What’s wrong? Did you accidently delete it again?” she asked as she leaned in to see the phone screen.
“No, it just reminded me of Bo. Remember when we went on the walk in basic and found a cute mushroom and I picked it for him, later that day he gave me a pretty rock.”
Athena’s hands settled on her shoulder, comforting her, “Hey, its okay to remember the good parts of the relationship sometimes. He hasn't been gone for very long, its okay to still think about him.”
“But that's the problem Thena! I don’t want to think about him anymore, I wanna be able to move on. I got a friend request from an aviator in San Diego and she’s in Bo’s new squadron. I even saw him photobombing her picture with another woman. What if he’s moved on already?” she ranted.
“Hey look, that San Diego aviator messaged you.” pointed out Thena.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is …” She quickly checked the time and realized that it was sent over an hour ago, and opened the app.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Baylie, but my callsign is Lucky. I’m currently stationed at Top Gun as an instructor with someone I think you know. He’s not in a good shape, I don’t know what happened between you two but ever since my wedding he’s been… not Bob.”
The next text bubble read, “I love Bobby as a friend, but um he snapped at me the other day and it wasn’t joke. I don’t wike it.”
Bird couldn’t help but be curious as to why she was contacting her about Bo.
Lucky had told Bird that she didn’t know what happened between them. So how did she know about her?
Bird typed, “Hi Lucky, it’s nice to meet you! You’re not bothering me at all, I am a little curious about how you know about me though. Bo is a very private person about his personal life.”
Then she started a new message, “Bo has a temper but he usually keeps it handled unless someone pokes at him constantly. I’m sorry that he snapped at you, I hope that he calms down soon.”
The bubble with dots showed up quickly after the second message, “Well you see, none of us know how to behave, its why we work so well together and we broke into his house and found him drunk and crying over some pictures of you guys…”
Bird frowned, “Oh, I didn’t realize he was taking the breakup so hard. Was it Coors or Whiskey?”
“My best friend, Jack Daniels.” Bird winced, he was taking it very hard by the choice of drink.
“Please watch out for him, I don’t want him to go back to old ways.” pleaded Bird as she reread the message, concern heavy in her heart.
“I’m trying my best here.”
“I appreciate that you reached out to me concerning Bo. I would feel awful if he did something self-distructive.” Bird showed the messages to Thena.
“Oh shit, maybe you should reach out to him?”
“You know I can’t, I don’t wanna overwhelm him or for him to think that i’m coddling him.”
Athena just rolled her eyes, “Babe, Bob has loved you since the first day at bootcamp, six months apart won’t change that.”
“Thena, he said that he didn’t love me, never did. I should just leave him alone to live his life.”
“Look, she texted again!” both faces whipped to face the screen as the message popped up.
“How does a trip to San Diego sound? I can pull some strings and get you here. I think…I think it might be best if he sees you.”
Bird started to type an apology when Athena grabbed her phone, deleting the words and pressing send when she was finished.  
“I’d like to see him too, we didn’t end it on the best of terms and i’d like to hear the reason on why he did what he did.”
Then she started a new message, “Thank you so much for reaching out to me Lucky, I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”
“Why would you do that! I don’t wanna see him yet!!” screamed Birdie, making the others around their table to look their way.
“Because Bird, you need to see him to know why he actually did it, he just said terrible things to you and left the next day. You need this, to move on.”
She rolled her eyes but ultimately, Thena was right. She did need this to move on from Bo.
Bird was still hung up on him and probably would be for longer than healthy if she didn’t get the closure she desperately needed.
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After lunch it was back to the hanger and tarmac for training and then they’d go home.
Bird drove over to Athena and Lucas for dinner.
“Oh Lukey, Oh Lukey, I’m home.” bellowed Athena as she entered the house, Birdie close behind.
Lucas was in the kitchen, an apron on, and dinner on the stove cooling. As soon as Heather saw him, she pulled him into a kiss.
“Don’t mind me, I’ll just stand here awkwardly as my best friend kisses her fiance.” muttered Bird.
They ended the kiss, chuckling to each other. “Oh don’t be like that, Manny! Come on, gimme a hug. I haven't seen ya in a while.”
Bird rolled her eyes, but did as told anyways, “Two days isn’t a while, Luke.” “For you maybe, but for me it is.” he whined.
“Someone from San Diego contacted Bird about Bobby-Boy.”
“Oh yeah, what about ‘em?” questioned Lucas. “He ain’t doin’ so well at that new base.” shrugged Heather.
“Oh, what’s he drinking?” “Jack D’s.” commented Bird, absentmindly.
Lucas’ eyes went wide, “Oh shit! Yeah, I’d say he ain’t doing good if he’s gone straight to the whiskey.”
“That’s what Bird said to her. And guess what?” exclaimed Thena. “What babe.”
“No you have to guess.” whined Heather, giving him puppy-dog eyes.
Lucas rolled his eyes but humored her anyway, “He wants to speak with Manny?”
Heather’s face lit up, “How are you so good at guessing! That San Diego aviator, Lucky, said that she’d try and pull some strings and get Manny over to see him!”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea? You guys ended it pretty badly.” questioned Lucas, pointing his fork at her accusingly.  
“I honestly don’t know, but Lucky said that she thought he would be better if he saw me.” shrugged Bird, taking a bite from her plate.
After she left Lucas and Heather’s house, Bird started thinking about her trip.
Like, what if she actually went and Bob wanted nothing to do with her. Would he be happy to see her after all these months apart?
How would he act? Would he be awkward or hateful towards her now that they broke up?
What if Lucky was wrong? And Bo doesn’t want to see her at all?
Questions like these swam in her mind as she tossed and turned in her bed as she tried to go to sleep.
Tomorrow Bird would start to get things ready for her trip, she didn’t really know how long she’d be in San Diego either.
She’d have to contact Lucky again and see if she’d actually be going to the base.
Bird was beyond nervous being around Bo again, especially when around new people that didn’t know what had happened in their relationship, not that it was any of the other’s business either.
She promised herself that she’d keep quiet about the messy ending as long as he did the same, which shouldn’t be difficult because Bo hated people digging into his personal life.  
They didn’t know anything about her, they might not end up liking her at all.
She was a tornado, chaotic and wild, and most people couldn’t or wouldn’t deal with her energy.
What people don’t understand is that’s just her personality.
She just hoped that everything would be ok at San Diego.
Her biggest fear is that Robert will see her and afterwards, ignore her the rest of the trip.
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Dragon’s Angels📻: @bayisdying @mrsjaderogers @dragon-kazansky @gracespicybradshaw
🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @interstellarloneliness
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cyberphuck · 2 years ago
Text
Collars Dot Com Ch 2: The Hammer of Thor
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(Back to Chapter One) I shut the lid on the washer, started the cycle, then leaned against it as it filled. To the left the dryer thumped steadily, sounding like a particularly monotonous wedding night.
I'd changed the sheets on the bed, stuffed my bachelor-smelling comforter in the washer, gathered up the long-neglected laundry pile, dragged the comforter back out of the washer in favor of washing the clothes first, scrubbed the bathroom, sanitized the kitchen, vacuumed the living room, collected six thousand sticky coffee mugs and empty soda cans from my desk, wiped down every flat surface, and nearly thrown up twice.
I sat down on the arm of the couch, putting a hand over my eyes to try and keep them from falling out of my skull. I smelled like bleach wipes and hangover sweat and the coffee I'd spilled down the front of my shirt two hours ago and all I really wanted was to lay facedown in bed and sleep until rigor mortis set in.
Some time between changing the pillow cases and gagging on bile, I'd opened the DoorDash app on my phone and ordered two bottles of Gatorade, two containers of fruit salad, and two more bottles of Gatorade in case the first two and the vitamin C from the fruit weren't enough to purge the tequila and idiocy from my body.
I did stupid things when I was drunk. That's what had ended my last relationship, hadn't it? I'd gone out for drinks with some of the guys from work, ended up doing jello shots with a bunch of college girls, and sent a picture of my dick to everyone on my contact list-- including my sister-- with the caption 'THE HAMMER OF THOR!'
I'd woken up the next morning with a variety of responses waiting for me. From my boss, 'you're lucky you're the only one I can rely on to turn in scripts on time,' and from Alyssa: 'I'm tired of your immature bullshit.'
My sister had sent a thumbs-up emoji.
It wasn't the first time Alyssa and me had gotten in an argument over how I spent my free time, and I thought an apology and giving her some space to cool off would keep things rattling along. Instead she dropped her copy of my apartment key in my mailbox, changed her relationship status on Facebook, and posted several memes about finding her flame and not letting anyone hold her back anymore.
Then lockdown had started, my entire department had been sent home to work remotely, all of my meals came from no-contact DoorDash deliveries, and if I wanted to hang out and drink with the guys from work, I had to do it over Zoom. I hadn't realized how much I'd relied on visits from Alyssa to motivate me to give a shit about what my apartment looked like until...
Well, until about 2pm today.
This was going to be the kick in the ass that I needed, I decided. I wasn't gonna keep the Pet I'd ordered, but I wasn't going to mix alcohol and online shopping again, either, and I was gonna clean up after myself and have people over again. Or better yet, go out. See people. Meet people. Shave every day.
Someone hit the buzzer in the downstairs lobby. I got up to hit the unlock button by the front door, got another whiff of stale coffee, and jogged into my bedroom to try to find a clean shirt so I didn't look like a complete slob for the DoorDash guy. I tossed the dirty shirt into the laundry corner, stopped, picked it up and put it into the hamper, and pulled on an ancient band tee, the screen printing long since faded away into nothing. By the time I emerged from the bedroom, DoorDash was already knocking.
Usually I only knew my order had arrived by the swish of a plastic bag being dumped on my mat and the driver's footsteps as he walked off. But I had to sign something, I guess. They'd used to make you sign for stuff, before. I turned the deadbolt and opened the door.
There was a boy standing there.
Blond hair, big eyes, freckles and a pretty mouth that was currently occupied by some kind of black rubber gag. Behind him was a man with a moving dolly stacked high with boxes labeled 'COLLARS.COM.' Behind him was pretty much every single one of my neighbors, all out to grab their mail and pick up their newspapers and check the hallway for werewolves at once.
Fuck.
"Delivery," the man said, looking supremely bored. "For--"
"Yeah, uh, yeah, come in," I said quickly, backing out of the doorway and holding the door wide. The boy stepped through first, then his chaperone with the dolly, and I thought about how I was going to have to either find a new apartment or somehow keep living in this one without ever making eye contact with any of my neighbors ever again.
The man set the dolly upright and plucked a chunky black device from his belt, shoving it at me. "Just use the pen to sign," he said, indicating a thin plastic stylus swinging from the device by a tether.
"Right, uh, so, there was kind of a--" I began weakly, trying to give the device back.
"Hit 'enter,'" the man said. The boy had been wearing a sort of black smock, tied at the back, and his chaperone was taking it off. The black pants came off too, and the boy was very much wearing absolutely nothing underneath them.
"This was-- I can't--" I tried again.
"Arms out," the man said to the boy, holding up his phone to take a picture. "Alright, turn." He glanced at me. "Press the pen down harder if it isn't doing it," he said.
"There has been," I said slowly and firmly, "a mistake."
The man looked at me. I looked back at him.
"Are you Brian Stink?" he asked.
"It's 'Stynch,'" I said automatically. "Listen, I bought all this by accident, I didn't really mean to--"
"The return policy is on the website," the man interrupted. "Can you sign the thing? I've got other deliveries."
"But I can't." A misshapen silence popped between us; I'd been expecting him to cut me off again. "I can't, uh, take him, really."
"I can't put him back in the van," the man said. "I've already sent Proof of Delivery to the dispatcher, and I can't just stick him back there while I finish all my other deliveries. By the time I got him back to the hub, all the handlers'd be gone for the day. Sign," he enunciated, "the thing."
"Alright, fine, fuck," I sighed, scribbling something approximate to my signature on the heavy device and watching it struggle to accept my name with technology from 1992. I slapped it back into the man's hand, trying to show my severe annoyance with him. He wasn't phased. "I'll see you again tomorrow when you come to pick him up," I told him.
"I'm off tomorrow." He yanked the dolly out from underneath the tower of shipping boxes and turned to let himself out. "Enjoy your purchase and have a nice day."
I glared at the closed door for a while, entertaining all my fantasies of letting his employers know I was Very Offended and that they had better do something to make up for it, and receiving an email from the CEO begging for my forgiveness.
Maybe even a phone call. We're so sorry. We're so sorry. The mean delivery driver has been reprimanded and fired-- no, that was too cruel, not with the economy the way it was. He probably had a family to feed. We have sat him down and told him he has been a Very Bad Boy. Yeah.
I locked the deadbolt. And the horse you rode in on, I thought viciously, turned around, and remembered there was an extremely undressed Pet standing next to my shoe rack. The room congealed around me a little, going from the hot soup of righteous anger to the greasy leftovers of what the fuck am I going to do now in an instant.
God, he looked good.
I had been expecting him to be a little plainer than the profile picture I'd glimpsed in a drunken haze the night before. Nobody was supposed to look as perfect as their headshots, that's what Photoshop was for. But there he was, smooth and blemishless, the same buttery curls, the sprinkling of freckles like cinnamon on a macchiato. The mouth, which was still stoppered by the rubber gag whose straps were beginning to leave red marks in his cheeks. He swallowed awkwardly around it and looked at me.
I stepped forward, reaching behind his head and feeling for a clasp. The strap was stiff and new, the price tag still stuck across the cheap plastic. "This thing smells like a used tire shop," I muttered, picking the tag off and undoing the buckle. "Probably tastes like one too."
I pulled the gag out of his mouth. It was a couple inches long, wet and slick where it'd been pressing against his tongue. I wrinkled my nose at it and set it on top of the boxes. They could take that back, too. "How long have you had that thing in your mouth? Do you want a glass of water?"
The boy's mouth puckered; he wiped saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. "Yes, please."
I went to the kitchen, took down a glass, turned on the tap and let in run until it was cold. My coffee mugs were still piled in the sink, looking at me accusingly with sticky eyes. I ignored them and returned to the living room to find the boy standing just where I'd left him.
"Here." I put the glass in his hands. "Come on and sit on the couch."
I discovered, then, that it was possible for someone to sensually drink a glass of plain tap water. The movement of his throat and the sound of his swallowing was almost obscene. Maybe it was just because he was naked, or because I knew what he was for, but the lovely pink mouth was definitely in the lead for 'reasons I was about to make decisions with my dick.' I knew, when I reached out, that just touching his mouth wouldn't be enough. I promised myself I just wanted to feel the shape of it, his lips against the ball of my thumb, but I had wanted that mouth since I saw it on the website, had clicked yes and yes and  yes because I hadn't cared what I'd have to pay to get it. I cupped my palm against his cheek and he leaned into it, looking at me, and I was pushing forward without looking at the price.
I kissed him because I wanted to feel the softness of his lips, the texture of them against my tongue, the sweet sound as we parted. There was a little hesitation when he opened his mouth to mine, as if he wasn't quite sure of it, like the sensation of my tongue against his was new for him. I held him still with a hand against the nape of his neck, where the finest curls of his hair tickled against my fingers, and let him get used to what it felt like to be kissed by me.
By the time I let him go, his breath had gone a little short and there was color in his cheeks and down his neck to his collarbone. His lips were still slightly parted, and I slid my thumb into his mouth. He made a soft sound as I pressed down on his tongue and bottom lip. He made that sound again when I pulled him forward for another kiss, and he slipped off the couch and down to his knees in front of me before I could even form an image of what I wanted.
Now he was looking up at me through his eyelashes and wetting his upper lip with his tongue. I took his chin in my hand because-- I don't know, I wanted to look at him, wanted to stay in the moment of anticipation forever, but with my other hand I took out my stiffening cock for him because I wanted it in his mouth.
He took the head between his lips, delicately, like kissing the first bite of a ripe peach, tongueing the flesh. He took the shaft in his hand and drew upward and I felt a throb of pleasure, my cock bobbing when he pulled away. He looked up at me again and I watched him take me into his mouth in one long, delicious slide, lips and tongue working as he sucked. He lifted his head, taking in a breath, then down again and I could feel myself in the back of his throat. Another shudder of pleasure, releasing in a groan.
I leaned my head back, listening to the sound of his mouth on my cock and riding each rise in tension, each a little bit stronger, a little bit longer than the last. I held my breath to make the pleasure hit deeper, letting it out when I was coming close to the edge. My back and thighs were tensing, wanting to thrust upwards; it began as a soft rhythm, then grew more and more insistent until I braced a hand against the back of his head to fuck his mouth.
I twisted my fingers into his hair, fucking into the friction I wanted, faster and harder, trying to come up short before I climaxed but tumbling over the edge anyway, coming hard with a hoarse, cracked groan.
I felt him swallow twice, then wrap his fingers around my aching cock and pull slowly upwards. I sucked in a breath, wincing, and put out a hand to stop him before he yanked my organs out of my body. "Enough," I panted. "Enough. I'm done, I'm good." He let me go. I took a few more steadying breaths, blinking up at the ceiling,  and alternated saying "god" and "fuck" a half dozen times until I was able to think clearly again. It might have been several hours. I don't know. When I finally pulled myself together, I looked down at him still kneeling there.
"So," I said. "What's your name?"
He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "My name is Ren." Kofi - Donate - AO3
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wlwfav · 2 years ago
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ep 0 volume 5 spoilers/thoughts below 👇👇
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huuuh interesting that the fake scenery from b7’s window was hellfire for deborah, but a big blue moon for ray 👀 i suppose the background changes depending on the sacrifice? this really shows that gray knows more about the sacrifices than he lets on, and he especially knows the reason why he chose them as a sacrifice…
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….foreshadowing! considering everyone in this panel is dead lmfao
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i dunno why but i really like this moment so much!! seeing gray take charge and make it clear to the angels that this is his experiment and they are very much apart of it….. it’s just so good
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just want to say shin is so pretty??!!??!!?!?!?! we don’t talk about him enough and i think that’s a crime tbh. shin fans rise up
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this is really funny and intriguing to me. the rules clearly state that all angels have to stay on their respective floors when a sacrifice is in the building, and i know eddie isn’t technically an angel here yet... but with how strict gray is, i’m kinda surprised gray appears to be fine with eddie hanging out with shin when shin is supposed to be, you know, working.
then again gray does have a soft spot for eddie, so maybe in the rules there’s a fine print beneath the “all angels need to stay on their respective floor*” rule that says “* except for eddie if he wants to hang out with shin :)”
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i guess the “leaving their respective floor” rule is just something that needs to be broken by the b6 angel 😭
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eddie and cathy whispering about danny is so cute and funny HELP
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eddie being worried about shin 🥺🥺🥺🥺 ughhh i really love their friendship, so knowing how it ends….. 🫠
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this is actually a pretty common feeling shin! if you take the murder part out of it, anyways
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THEM THEM THEM THEM THEM UGHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!! eddie really looks up to shin so much it’s adorable
and again with shin giving eddie a head pat 🥹🥹🥹 reminds me of zack with ray LOL, kind of a shame they never met shin…..
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eddie has no idea what’s about to happen….. T___T
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AND HIS REACTION TO FINDING SHIN 😭😭😭😭🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕💔💔💔💔💔
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makes sense gray would think this way… but it still hurts 🥹
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i am in SHAMBLES!!!!!! at least eddie is taking shin’s death way better than i am 😭
the last panel is really really powerful to me. shin’s ghost-like appearance on the other side of the mirror, with his back to eddie… it symbolizes he’s passed onto another life without actually saying it, and despite the barrier between life and death, eddie’s words still reached shin… 🥹
(shin's ghost is also sitting, almost like he's waiting for eddie to cross over as well... perhaps he already knows of eddie's fate and wants to be there to greet eddie on the other side? ..... or maybe i'm looking way too much into this panel...)
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nice foreshadowing of danny’s ultimate fate here as well 👀 pretty sure he said the exact same thing to gray in the main story when the building was going down, and that’s where he got his answer… that yes, his desires did not make him an angel, but a human. a nice little callback to the main series, despite this being the prequel!
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“father gray said it’s my turn on the xbox”
THERE HE IS!!!! ZACK’S FIRST OFFICIAL APPEARANCE IN EP 0!!!!
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gosh it feels SO GOOD seeing zack again!!!!! it’s been so long……. missed this guy ☝️☝️☝️☝️
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aaaaand that’s the end of volume 5! so we leave off on how gray discovered zack!
also imo, “the laughing reaper” is a much better name for zack than “the back-alley murderer”. laughing reaper fits him much better!
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them… i will never emotionally recover 🫠
overall another really good volume of ep 0!!! i love seeing how everything builds up to the main story!!! i’m gonna be really sad when this story ends….. i will miss it </3
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dixons-sunshine · 5 months ago
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Aaaahhhhh this was even better than I could have ever hoped for! I’m relinquishing my ‘crown’ as the dad!Daryl writer (even though I don’t really see myself as the writer for him as a dad, but a few people have told me that I am) and to you because this was out of this world! Truly a work of art! Please, somebody, get this printed and published as a best seller!
Everytime Daryl said ‘sunshine’ in this, I felt all happy inside and even more like this was dedicated to me (because of my username lol). I counted a total of seven times he called the reader ‘sunshine’ in this, although I could have potentially missed a few.
The archer begged internally to whatever force above that it was not the latter. "Please tell me ya peed yerself..." Daryl mumbled under his shaky breath; already slightly on edge.
Not even gonna lie, that made me laugh so hard. My sister was looking at me in concern.
The thunderstorm hadn't calmed down in the slightest; was raging on and had caused a tree to fall and land in the middle of the street. "Shit... 'S too big ta move it... We have ta take a different road." His eyes landed on you, just like his hand on your swollen belly. "Can ya both hang on a lil' while longer? 'S a stupid question, ain't it?" You shook your head and gave him the most convincing smile you could muster in that moment. "It's not. I-I'll try... Right, peanut?" You addressed your unborn baby. "We'll try."
Aaahhhhh this paragraph as a whole was just amazing!!! And the reader talking to their baby!!! We don’t get to see a lot of that in fics. It’s always mainly Daryl talking to the baby. Don’t get me wrong, that’s cute and adorable and I want more of that in my life, but I wanna talk to my (fictional) baby as well!
I need to write more scenarios of that...
Unfortunately wasn't the fallen tree the only obstacle you had to overcome on your rushed journey to Alexandria... The storm was going on and definitely took its toll on the nature. And that wasn't the only problem... The night had settled over the world and the dead weren't exactly a help as well, and at some point were your contractions only fifteen minutes apart... It was a race against the time now - and your upcoming nerves. The closer you got to actually birthing your child, the worse it became. Fifteen minutes apart and you didn't even know if everything was fine and going the way it should down there. It was excruciating.
The nerves I was feeling during this... I love the way you included the timing between contractions. It made everything feel so much more dire and it had my heart racing omg.
You watched your husband and newborn daughter; a tired, but happy look on your face, and you realised soon, that everything had been worth it... Everything you've gone through. Every obstacle you and Daryl had to overcome, just to get here - to experience this moment. She was worth it.
Excuse me while I go cry over my imaginary family with Daryl because this perfectly encapsulated how I feel about Daryl becoming a dad. He deserves this. Please, give this man his own family.
No words in any dictionary can perfectly describe how I felt reading this. It’s like a birthday present, even if my birthday was (as of today) two months ago. This made me so happy. Thank you so, so much for writing this for me. I don’t know you personally, but I love you so much and I’m giving you a hug right now 💜.
Dad-to-be!Daryl fighting tooth and nail to keep the reader—who’s water had broken while they were on a walking around in the Hilltop—safe while trying to get her back to Alexandria so that Siddiq and Carol can help with the delivery of their little one. (Plus maybe the post-delivery fluff that ensues when Daryl and reader get their first moments alone with their baby.)
No pressure to write this! I just saw your post asking for dad!Daryl requests and had this idea, and thought I’d throw it your way. Love you whether you write this or not. 💜
In the Eye of the Storm
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You go into labor while staying at the renewed Sanctuary. Daryl has to safely get you back home to Alexandria, of course - through a thunderstorm...
Warnings: usual TWD stuff, pregnancy, childbirth, baby things, mentions of blood, weapons, quite a bit angst, fluff, protective!Daryl
I tried to write this as accurate as possible. I'm no expert, heh.
Set in the beginning of season 9!
Word Count: 4,5k (whoops)
a/n: I'm not kidding when I say that I literally pounced that request. Gods, I loved to write this! Thanks for requesting, @dixons-sunshine ! I hope I did this justice! 🥹
EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist
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Daryl had a critical gaze directed at the darkening sky above him. The wind had picked up; bringing dark clouds over the Sanctuary. A thunderstorm was approaching - and fast.
Unbeknownst to him, had the archer started to chew on the inside of his bottom lip; causing you to gently squeeze his side. "Earth to Mr. Dixon," you giggled; trying to get his attention. "You okay, Dar?" The archer blinked and lowered his gaze back to you - his wife, who was neatly tucked against his side on a walk through the yard of the renewed Sanctuary; past the not yet growing crops which had been planted. You smiled up at him - slightly grimaced, but you smiled. He shook his head; "I shoulda been askin' you tha', sunshine..." eyes drifting to your prominent baby bump. You took a deep breath, but nodded. "Just Braxton Hicks, you know..."
Daryl's eyes drifted from your eyes to your (yet) unborn baby and back; a mix of worry and fear swimming in his blue-greyish orbs. You could tell. "Ya been havin' them already the whole day... Since we got up this mornin'. Ya sure this ain't the real thing?" Now you were the one shaking your head. "No. I promise, we're okay." "A'righ'." The archer jutted his chin towards the factory and looked back up in the sky. "Let's get ya back inside," he prompted and gave your hip a soft squeeze, before he started to walk; urging you on to follow. You nodded and scrunched your nose. "Yeah... Looks like rain."
With the first roll of thunder, Daryl closed the door behind you and him, without his hand leaving your body for even a second. He was so adamant to always be by your side; steady you and help you walk, it was ridiculously cute. It made you fall in love with the archer even more - not knowing it was even possible.
You giggled; one hand on the small of your back, the other on top of your belly. "Babe, you know I can stand on my own, right?" "Don care. Want ya close. 'Specially round 'ere... Ain't trustin' 'em..." You knew of course what he meant. The smile on your face immediately vanished; replaced by a concerned frown.
You understood Rick's intention; wanting to make Carl's last wish true. You'd do the same for your own child - within a heartbeat. You just didn't understand why Rick had charged Daryl of all people with the supervision of the Sanctuary. Sure, he was his bother, his right-hand-man, the one he possibly trusted most besides Michonne, but... After everything Daryl has been through here? After all the psychological torture? You knew it wasn't easy for your husband to be here. Even though he didn't say anything. You could feel it.
You took a step towards the archer; invading his space. Placing a hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, you scanned his face. "Daryl... You... You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be the one having to do this. I'll have a-" You stopped dead in your sentence; eyes widening and heart leaping into your throat at the feeling you had just experienced. Daryl was immediately on alert; completely ignoring what you had just said. "Y/N?! Wha's goin' on?!" His free hand came to rest on the bump which was his child instantly.
You swallowed hard; taking a step away from him again and looked down yourself. A prominent wet patch was spreading across the crotch and inner thighs of your maternity sweatpants. "I-I think..." Your husband's eyes followed yours quick; realisation dawning on him right away. It could mean only two things...
1) You peed yourself.
Or
2) Your water broke.
The archer begged internally to whatever force above that it was not the latter. "Please tell me ya peed yerself..." Daryl mumbled under his shaky breath; already slightly on edge. It wasn't a fortunate moment for the baby to make their appearance... You were at the Sanctuary, for God's sake! Rosita and Eugene were the only one here you could truly trust. Not much medical supplies and even less people who knew how to birth a baby either.
"I-I'm honestly not sure, Dar..." He nodded; trying to keep his calm. "A'right. Let's, uh, get ya in a fresh pair of pants 'n check?" "Uh.Huh," you answered; nervously nibbling on your lip as well. You actually didn't want to 'do this to Daryl' now, but it wasn't like you could take a pick. It wasn't in your hands... It was in the tiny hands of the peanut living in your belly.
You felt your husband's strong arm around your waist once again; supporting you as best as he could and helping you to walk through the darkish, grey hallways of the 'former' enemies hideout and towards your shared room.
After the sweatpants and your panties were not much longer on your body, you and Daryl realised quickly that you did certainly not pee yourself. It was a different... substance - which meant the one thing the both of you hoped it wouldn't be... Your water broke.
"O-Oh, fuck, that's..." You cut off your own sentence; "W-What are we, uh, going to do now?" swallowing hard and balancing on one foot, while you gripped Daryl's shoulder as he helped you step inside a fresh pair of underwear and sweatpants.
The archer looked up at you; panic swimming in his blue-grey orbs. You could tell that his mind was working on overdrive to find an answer to your question. "I-I dunno, sunshine, I-" He inhaled a deep breath; eyes darting around the room. "Ya can't have the peanut here... 'S no doctor 'round. I ain't risking tha'..." Daryl shook his head and stood up; palms immediately lading on your hips. "W-We gotta get ya back to Alexandria. To Siddiq. Now." You nodded; clenching your jaw at the incoming contraction - and Daryl noticed, of course. "'N we gotta time 'em contractions. C'mon."
Trusting your husband and his decision making blindly, you quickly threw a few things you might needed in Daryl's beige backpack, while he was informing Rosita about the situation you found yourself in.
It didn't take the archer more than a few minutes to return to your side; giving you a helping hand and finally walking you back to the door, which led to the yard - but once he opened it, a harsh breeze hit him (and you) instantly; rain splattering across your faces.
Fuck... The thunderstorm... Daryl had totally forgotten about the weather conditions; too occupied with you and the baby. You did, too.
"Fuckin' shit," the archer cursed under his breath; trying to shield you from the rain with his broad body. "Well, that's gonna be a fun car ride, eh?" You halfway joked; trying to lift the mood, but without success. "I'll get the truck; park as close as somehow possible. No matter wha'... We have ta get ya back home."
The Sanctuary had borrowed a truck from the Hilltop for moving things and other 'heavy' stuff. It was the only car option Daryl got. Of course he couldn't take his bike. Hell no.
"Ya wait inside. Don want ya ta get wet 'n cold." You nodded; bracing yourself beside the door against the wall. "Ya good bein' alone?" Once again you nodded; giving him another half-smile. "Go." He gave you a last once over, before he stepped out in the rain to get the truck.
Soaked to the bones, he helped you down the stairs then and outside; sitting you in the passenger seat of the truck; not letting go of you for even a second. "Y-You're soaked, baby..." You noticed with a furrowed brow; concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you-" Your husband immediately interrupted you; shaking his head and squeezing your hand. "Doesn't matter. This ain't 'bout me. 'S 'bout ya 'n the baby."
You knew that arguing would be just a waste of time. It wouldn't help. And honestly were you way too tensed and stressed to discuss. So you said nothing.
"Ya comfortable, sunshine? Tha' okay fer now?" His voice was on edge. You could see how hard he was trying to not lose it. This spurred you even more on to keep a cool head yourself. After all, this was your first birth. Your first child. You wanted to panic and give into the nervousness, concern and fear, but you knew you couldn't. You had to try at least. For Daryl.
You nodded and gave him a soft smile. "Y-Yeah, I- We're good, I-I think. Thanks, babe." The small smile he gave you was sloshing over with nervosity and concern, but he tried as well.
Daryl quickly rounded the car and got inside the driver's seat; immediately starting the engine. "Let's get ya home." He started to drive, while you tried to focus on your breathing like Carol taught you. Both your hands splayed on your big baby bump; feeling the subtle movements of the child within you.
Some time passed until the next contraction hit you. You breathed through it; grimacing. "Damnit..." You gasped once the waves of pain subsided; noticing how Daryl gazed back and forth between a watch around his wrist you never saw before and the street. "Been 'bout forty minutes since the last one." You swallowed hard. "T-That's already quite close, isn't it?" He shrugged his shoulder. "I dunno, but... Feels like it." You shifted slightly in your seat and placed a hand on Daryl's hand, which was gripping the gear shift for dear life. "We're gonna make it, 'kay? Everything's gonna be okay," you tried to reassure Daryl - and yourself. You could see how he chewed on his bottom lip. "Shouldn't 'ave taken ya with me... Shoulda left ya back home where ya 'n the baby 'r safe 'n taken care of. Hell, I shouldn't 'ave left at all... 'S my fault tha' we gotta do this now."
You immediately shook your head and gave his hand another squeeze. "Dar, this is everything, but your fault. I was the one encouraging you to go... And I practically begged you to take me along, because I can't stand to be away from you - especially now. I knew the risk, but I made the decision. If anyone's to blame, it's me." Your husband just scoffed at your words and just as he actually wanted to answer, the sight of the street a few miles ahead forced him to stop the truck.
The thunderstorm hadn't calmed down in the slightest; was raging on and had caused a tree to fall and land in the middle of the street. "Shit... 'S too big ta move it... We have ta take a different road." His eyes landed on you, just like his hand on your swollen belly. "Can ya both hang on a lil' while longer? 'S a stupid question, ain't it?" You shook your head and gave him the most convincing smile you could muster in that moment. "It's not. I-I'll try... Right, peanut?" You addressed your unborn baby. "We'll try."
Unfortunately wasn't the fallen tree the only obstacle you had to overcome on your rushed journey to Alexandria... The storm was going on and definitely took its toll on the nature. And that wasn't the only problem... The night had settled over the world and the dead weren't exactly a help as well, and at some point were your contractions only fifteen minutes apart... It was a race against the time now - and your upcoming nerves. The closer you got to actually birthing your child, the worse it became. Fifteen minutes apart and you didn't even know if everything was fine and going the way it should down there. It was excruciating.
"Sonofabitch," you suddenly heard Daryl exclaim, which snapped you out of your thoughts. Lifting your gaze, you instantly understood what caused his small outburst... A few walkers were exactly in your way; stuck in the rain soaked, muddy ground. "Have ta get rid of 'em, sunshine," Daryl stated and already moved to unsheathe his knives from their confines; his barely dried clothes about to get soaked all over again. "I-I can help-" "Hell nah," he cut you off immediately; scoffing. "Yer stayin' right here inside the truck where ya 'r safe. I ain't riskin' a damn thing. Gotta keep ya safe." You nodded in defeat; realising once more that arguing wouldn't get you anywhere.
Daryl gave you a stern but loving look, before he took a deep breath and exited the truck. Anxiously, you watched your husband fighting off the undead threat. Sure, most of them were kinda stuck, but the noises had attracted more walkers... The headlights of the truck provided enough light for you to see what was going on in front of you, but not besides and certainly not behind the vehicle. The relentless rain made it difficult to see straight as well, and when another, much worse contraction hit you and the pain managed to blur your vision entirely, you lost sight of Daryl. Sweat was dripping over your brow as you couldn't hold back the scream which wanted to break free from your lips; hands clutching your baby bump. "O-Oh f-fuck..." Your fingers clenched into fists as you tried to breathe through the contraction. Agonisingly slow subsided the pain; leaving you breathless. You looked around through the windows; trying to find your husband. But you couldn't see him. It was quiet. Except for the running engine and the rain drumming down on the truck.
"D-Daryl?!" You called out; knowing very well that he couldn't hear you. Uneasiness crept up in you; threatening to cut off your airways and sent your anxiety skyrocketing. It didn't help that you were on edge already... What if something happened to him? What if he got bit? What if he...? Your brain already conjured the worst case scenarios, as suddenly two pale hands slammed against the window pane beside you; the tow curling growl almost giving you a heart attack. "Fucking hell!" You squeaked and clutched your now rapidly beating heart.
The hands clawed and scratched at the wet glass - but to your sheer endless relief didn't they stay long. With a dull thud hit the undead man's skull the window; blood splattering everywhere, before it got slowly washed away. The hands stilled, before they entirely disappeared. Blinking, you watched it happen, still somewhat caught up in your thoughts. But then, the driver's door got opened and slammed quickly shut again. A familiar grunt urged to your ears - and you could've cried of relief and happiness.
"Daryl!" You more or less whimpered; shifting in your seat as good as you could and turned to him; taking in his water and blood soaked appearance. Some blood was on his cheeks and water dripped down his long, brown hair. You reached for him; grabbed onto his wet sweatshirt and slippery vest. "A-Are you okay? I-I lost sight of you a-and..." You hiccuped; taking a deep breath. The archer immediately nodded and leaned in for a sweet, soft kiss; letting you feel that he was alive and well, before he moved to take your hands in his bigger ones. "'M good, sunshine. 'S a'right. 'M here." His blue eyes scanned your body then; lips pressed together in worry. "Wha' 'bout you?"
You swallowed hard. "H-Had another contraction..." His eyes widened. "Darlin', you had one barely ten minutes ago..." "I know." Daryl looked at you a few moments longer, before he gently let go of your hands and gripped the steering wheel instead. "We gotta keep movin'," he mumbled and kept on driving - and you knew he was right.
Luckily the truck didn't get stuck in the muddy mess ahead of you... That would've been the cherry on top.
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It took you longer than planned to drive back to Alexandria, but in the end you finally made it - most likely just in time. You swore you were never that happy before to see the familiar gates of the place you called home. Daryl felt the same. You could tell.
The thunder and lighting had ceased by now. It was still raining, but not as bad. Due to the bad weather conditions was nobody on watch, but the archer knew that at least one person was positioned up in the windmill; looking out for threats from up there. So, he gave whoever was up there a sign; flashing the truck head lights three times and signalling that friends were standing in front of the walls and not enemies.
"Jus' a few minutes longer, sunshine. Almost there," Daryl tried to reassure you as he gently squeezed your hand. You just nodded; occupied with taking deep breaths.
Moments later, the gates got opened for Daryl to drive through, which he immediately did and headed straight for the infirmary; parking the car as close as he could get.
The approaching headlights must've caught Siddiq's attention, since the doctor immediately went to the door; trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. He watched the archer quickly rounding the vehicle; getting soaked in the rain a third time. "Daryl?!" Siddiq called out; switching on his porch light. "What-" Daryl didn't let the man finish; cut him off mid sentence as he opened the door and helped you out. "Need yer help! Y/N's in labor!"
Siddiq didn't need more information. He knew and was immediately on high alert. The doctor opened the door and let the both of you in; instantly helping Daryl to steady you. Usually, he would've asked about your condition, but Siddiq knew the moment he saw you. "How far apart are the contractions?" You wanted to answer, but Daryl did for you. "'Bout six minutes." The black haired man nodded, "You got here just in time, I'd say." and helped you sit on the bed inside the room he had led you and Daryl in. "I'm afraid we have to get you out of these..." Siddiq nodded at your sweatpants. "Daryl, would you...?" Your husband's eyes were locked on you as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I got it. C'mon, sunshine."
While Daryl helped you shimmy down your pants and panties, Siddiq prepared some things he needed in the upcoming hour(s)... Towels, gloves and some other medical stuff.
"Alright. I have to check on you. Is that alright?" Siddiq asked carefully; knowing how... protective and territorial the other present man in the room could get. You nodded; trying your hardest to not scream due to the contraction you were going through. The doctor noticed and placed a reassuring hand on your knee. "Deep breaths, Y/N. We got this, okay?" You gave your friend another nod, before he went to check as soon as your contraction subsided again.
"You're about eight centimetres dilated, I'd say." "'N tha' means?" Daryl spoke up with your hand neatly tucked in his, as he was standing by your side. "Two more and she'll be able to start pushing. Means, your baby will see the light of day in the next one or two hours." The colour visibly drained from the archer's face. He knew that he'd be a dad soon, but... That soon? You, on the contrary just groaned and threw your head against the pillow. "Thank fuck. I want this to be over... Hurts like a bitch - and I finally want to hold my baby."
Siddiq witnessed both very different reactions and tried to hide a smile; quickly deciding to give the soon-to-be-dad a little task to keep him from freaking out.
"Daryl?" The archer's gaze lifted from where he was staring at the floor and gnawing nervously on his thumb. "Could you get Carol? I might need her assistance." Daryl frowned in confusion, but the feeling which started to flood his veins was happiness. "She's here?" Siddiq nodded with a smile. "Yes. She was on the road and decided to stay for a few days. Might as well call it providence." The man nodded; shaking a few bangs of wild brown curls from his face and nibbled on his bottom lip again, but turned to you; needing your permission. "'S a'right if I go 'n get 'er, darlin'?" You nodded; sweat doting your forehead. "As long as you'll come back to me... Go. I'm in good hands." Your husband gave you a loving look and gently squeezed your hand, before he let go to get himself soaked in rain again - for the nth time... Not that he cared, though.
The archer didn't even had to ask where to look for his best friend. He knew. After all has she been sharing a house with the both of you, before she moved to the Kingdom. Where else to look but there
Opening the main door, he stepped inside; calling out for his friend. "Carol?!" It didn't take long for the grey haired woman to peak out from the kitchen in the hallways; frowning. The frown immediately vanished, though, when she saw who the 'intruder' was... "Daryl?" A bright smile darted over her face, as she quickly bridged the distance to hug her best friend. They hadn't seen each other in a while after all.
"Ya good?" He simply asked; definitely enjoying the embrace of the woman he got luckily stuck with since the very beginning of this shit show. "Yeah, I am. What about you? And especially Y/N?" Daryl instantly retreated from the hug; a frightening, but also happy look on his face. "W-Well, uh... S-She's in labor. 'S why I brought 'er back here... Siddiq sent me ta ask for yer help..." Carol's eyes widened, but she immediately scrambled for the kitchen to turn off the stove. "Of course, I'm coming to help! Can't miss my best friend becoming a daddy, can I?"
Daryl blinked. "Best friend? Really?" Carol ignored his sceptical question and grabbed him by the shoulders instead; turning him around and maneuvering him towards the door. There were more important things to do now than discuss that.
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Siddiq's predictions had been quite on spot. About one and an half hour, quite a few painful contractions and several tiring and debilitating pushes later, you finally held your baby in your arms. Since the doctor's announcement that you gave birth to a - as far as he could tell, healthy little girl, Daryl's mind had gone blank. He was physically present, but mentally, he was somewhere lost in a haze; trying to process the life-changing information... A girl. His daughter. He was a father now. A father!
Of course, you noticed. Carol and Siddiq did, too and all of you decided to give him the space and time he needed right now; just letting him stare at the white wall across your bed.
Only once the afterbirth was done, you getting cleaned up as well as the baby, the umbilical cord cut by Carol (Daryl would've most likely fainted if he was asked to do it. He already looked as white as a ghost...), a few further instructions and information shared by both your friends, and your newborn daughter wrapped up in a diaper and a slightly too big beige romper suit with cute teddy bears on it, you decided to try to guide your husband out of the haze he still was in. Especially now that you were given some time alone...
"Daryl?" You called out softly; voice barely above a whisper to not startle him. He didn't react, so you tried again... Same result. Freeing a hand from the baby tucked against your chest, you reached out to gently touch his arm. "Babe..." You whispered; letting your palm glide down the length of the limb and brushing the clammy skin of his hand. "Hey..." That seemed to finally do the trick...
The archer blinked and redirected his glance; eyes focusing on you instead. "'M sorry, sunshine, I-" His words quickly died in his throat, when he finally saw his daughter nestled against you; greedily suckling on your exposed right breast and making the cutest little noises he had ever heard. You smiled tiredly and slipped your fingers through his; giving them a soft squeeze. "Your baby girl, Daryl... Your daughter..." He swallowed and lifted his free hand; almost hesitatingly hovering over the infant, before his pointer finger came into contact with her soft cheek.
Daryl gasped; releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding. You watched the interaction with loving eyes; only now noticing that the small girl had stopped nursing and was wriggling around in your hold instead. Her eyes were closed and she had her legs pulled up against her belly; tiny fingers clenching and unclenching.
Your husband had cupped her head now, which was covered in a dark brown fuzz. "She's perfect, darlin'..." Daryl whispered after a long moment; smiling that smile you loved so much.
"Do you want to hold her?"
That question caused Daryl's hand to immediately stop caressing his daughter's head. "I-I..." He stammered; nervous, yet with such a strong urge. "Y-Yeah, I... I wanna hold 'er." You patted the empty space on the bed beside you. "C'mere, then." The archer followed your 'command' and switched from the chair to sit on the bed. Only now did you notice that he hadn't changed yet and that the shirt he wore was still damp. Worry roared to life within you. You didn't want him to catch a cold or even something worse...
"Baby, you should change... I don't want you to get sick..." Daryl shook his head. "Do want ta leave ya..." "I know..." You bit your lip; uncertain if you should propose the suggestion in your mind or not. "Then, uh... How about you take the shirt and vest off? Carol and Siddiq won't be here for at least another hour and skin-on-skin contact with your daughter would be good, too... Helps her bond with you." You gave him a soft smile. "It's your decision, though. I won't force you to do anything."
You could practically see the gears turning in your husband's head, but in the end he nodded and started to peel the damp clothes off his upper body. Once he was shirtless, you started to transfer the little girl over to her father. "Make sure to support her head, Dar," you instructed him; noticing his eager nod, and suddenly was the infant tucked in the crook of his arm. She snuggled against his bare chest; definitely enjoying the warmth of his skin.
And suddenly the world stopped to turn around Daryl.
He gazed down at the tiny human being he helped create - and she was the most wonderful, beautiful creature his eyes had ever seen (besides you, of course). Love flooded his veins; heart threatening to slosh over with the warm feeling.
Yes... He'd rip the world apart to keep her safe. Anything. Just to make sure his girls were protected.
You watched your husband and newborn daughter; a tired, but happy look on your face, and you realised soon, that everything had been worth it... Everything you've gone through. Every obstacle you and Daryl had to overcome, just to get here - to experience this moment. She was worth it.
You smiled. Yeah... You could definitely get used to Daryl being a dad...
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Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @lou12346789 @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007
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therejectkat · 3 years ago
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Chillin’ with the Driller Killer…sounds like fun to me!
Huge shoutout to @itsaaudraw for this amazing commission piece, I love it so much! 🖤
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tinythebunni · 2 years ago
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Robin Buckley x Bimbo!Mean Dom!Reader
Alrighty Aphrodite
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˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ 。⋆ ୨୧⋆。
You and Robin first met through Nancy. You and Nancy are best friends, have been since primary school! Nancy tripped over your white ballet flats and almost fell. But you, being the gracious girl you are, caught her. Nancy shared her Oreos with you as a sign of her gratitude.
You and Nancy are now seniors in high school. You two are complete opposites, yet you never grew apart. If anything, you got closer together.
Nancy runs the school newspaper, you’re the cheerleading co-captain. You guys always sit with each other at lunch. And whenever you get called over to your table, Nancy always joins.
All of your friends love Nancy! The ones who don’t, well, the aren’t doing well socially.
One day when you were hanging out with Nancy, you decided you guys should have a sleepover! Nancy was up for it ofc, but it had to be at your house. Her brother was a little shit. Her words, not yours.
After you guys ran to get snacks, you decided to head to the vhs tape store. Nancy wanted to stay in the car, but you went in. And god are you so happy that you did.
When you walked inside, Robin could’ve sworn she saw an angel. With your honeyed skin, siren eyes, and flirtatious smile, you were a wet dream. And god was she wet right now.
Cheeks aflame, she nervously greeted you. “Wel-welcome to family video! I’m Robin, here to be of your service, fair maiden!” She stuttered nervously.
Cute. You thought to yourself. I want this one.
“Hello gorgeous, do you happen to have Valerie and Her Week Of Wonders in stock?”
Correction, Robin was fucking soaked.
Mouth opening and closing like a fish, she pointed to the back right corner.
“The pornography section? Really baby? Can’t even think well enough to point me to the right area.” You said as you passed by her.
“Oh-OH! I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I just got rlly nervous because you are like really fucking hot and I am so awkward and I cannot believe I’m in the presence of an absolute goddess!” Robin rambled.
Jesus Christ she needed to shut up. But it was cute, did she just call you a goddess?
“Oh my god. OH MY GOD! I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing. The movie your looking for is in A4.” Robin said in a defaeated voice.
Stupid stupid! Can’t even talk to a girl. Robin thought to herself.
“I was hoping you would show me.” Oh. OH.
“Yes, yes of course! Sorry!” Walking around you, Robin nearly walked into a wall, tripped over her own feet, and knocked a VHS off the shelf. She was so damn clumsy. But so fucking adorable.
Once you had your movie, Robin walked with you to the counter to check you out. “$2.50!”
You gave her the money, but didn’t leave afterwards. You watched as she put the money in the register, and printed your receipt.
“Oh! You’re still here?”
“Of course I am, I still need something from you.”
“Okay, what would that be?”
“Your number. We should hang out sometime.”
OMG OMG! NO WAY IM GONNA DIE!! Robin thought. “OH MY GOD YES! I mean, yea sure lemme just get a piece of paper.”
You, walked out that store with your movie, a smile on your face, and a pretty girls number. A pretty girl who you planned on absolutely ruining.
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It’s Saturday, the day you and Robin arranged to hang out. Robin thinks you guys are just gonna watch Ferris Buellers Day Off, but you have other plans. Plans that involved Robin whimpering and whining under your hands.
Once you hear knocking on your house door, you open up the door. Robin, looking down at her shoes, doesn’t notice your attire.
Walking in with her head tilted down towards her shoes, she rambles about snacks. “-and I got Cheetos because I don’t know if you really like Doritos but it doesn’t…”
Trailing off, she finally noticed what your wearing. Your hair is down, covering your shoulders in beautiful curls. Your slippers have cute bunny ears on them. But neither one is what she’s focused on. You have on a sparkly night gown. One, that barely covers your ass. One, that has your boobs practically spilling out the top. One, that has Robin staring at you with her fucking mouth open.
“Something wrong baby?” You ask in an innocent voice.
“No, no! Nothing at all!” Robin answers with her eyes on your chest. This night is already going so well.
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You two are in your room now, you’re laying on your back in your bed, and Robin is propped up against your wall. You’re trying to enjoy the movie, but she just won’t stop ranting about stupid fucking facts about the cast.
Eventually, you get fed up. So, you make up a game in your head. You carefully, start to carress Robin’s cheeks with your nails. Her breath stutters and she flushes a deep crimson.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Is this okay?”
“This is more than okay! But what are you doing?”
“I’m just watching the movie, honey. Tell me more facts though. I’m so interested.”
So, she continues on. Time for your next step. You sit up, and crawl over to Robin. She stops talking, and watches with doe eyes as you do.
Once you’re over to her, you sit in her lap. You push her brown honey hair behind her ear, and look into her glistening eyes.
“You gonna keep going, pretty?”
Robin is in heaven. There’s no way that this is real. She’s looking up at you with a adoring gaze. She looks a Bambi. Your pretty little babydoll.
“Yea, yea of course!” So, she continues on. And you just step it up.
Grabbing her hair into a ponytail, you yank her head back. Choking on a moan, Robin stares up at you with teary eyes. She looks up at you with such adoration, just waiting on your next move.
“Do you ever stop talking?” You ask rudely. You don’t care that she doesn’t shut up, you just wanna see her cry.
And she does. Her eyes tear up, her lip wobbles, and her cheeks flame. She’s scared. Cute.
“N-no. My classmates say I just never shut up. Bu-but I can! I really can!” She says, she practically begs. So cute, she’d do anything for you.
“How about this. I want you to ramble about anything, anything at all. But, if you stop, I’ll stop. Got it?” You ask with a sly smirk.
“Y-yea of course! I can do that.” No you can’t, she doesn’t even know what you plan on doing to her.
She starts talking about band. “I play the trumpet and I usually- NNGHHH” she moans. You hadn’t even done anything yet. All you did was lift up her shirt and kiss down her stomach. Barley even got anywhere.
“What- what are you doing?”
“I’m just having fun baby, keep going.” You say.
So, she continues. She rambles on about band, all while keeping her eyes on you. She watches as you kiss her stomach, all the way down to the waistband of her pants. Eventually you pull them down.
“Holy! What are you doing?”
“I have answered this before dummy! I’m. Having. Fun. Now keep going or you won’t get to cum tonight, ‘kay?” You ask in a sickly sweet voice.
Robin nods and keeps going. You pull down her jeans, all the way down. Once they’re off, you latch your teeth onto the waistband of her underwear and slide them down.
Robin chokes on her spit, but keeps going. You pull her underwear down to her ankles and slowly kiss your way back up. Once to her upper thighs, you start to leave hickeys. By now, Robin is panting and trying so hard to keep taking.
But she’s just so horny right now, she needs you. Badly.
By the time you get to her pussy, she’s panting and moaning gibberish.
“Please Please! Nnghhh! I need you badly! Please I’ll be good, so fucking good! Just please touch me, kiss me, something!”
Now you’re actually annoyed. You take her underwear and shove it into her mouth. She can taste the saltiness of her slick on her panties. She moans around the cloth and looks at you with teary eyes.
“Shut the fuck up.” You say, Robin nodding in response.
You ease your way up to her clit, and slowly suck on it. You tug it gently with your teeth, Robin moaning in lust.
You lick a slow stripe up her glistening lips and duck her clit. You use two of your fingers to spread her lips apart and get to work. You slide your tongue inside her as she squeals.
You didn’t start out slow, you just went for it. Your tongue flicked and licked everywhere on her ridged walls. Your thumb rubbing figure eights on her clit.
She moans and whines as she tries to pull away, her attempts fruitless.
“Don’t run from me baby, lemme eat you out like you deserve. Give yourself to me. Let me ruin you baby.”
Robin moans in a high pitch tone, almost like acceptance. She lays her head on the wall and closes her eyes.
Cheeks flushed, legs shaking, and lips chapped, she can feel herself on the edge. She needs to cum so bad. She’s so close, but she just can’t get there yet, so, she starts to cry.
It’s not that you’re doing bad, you’re so fucking amazing, but she needs more. She needs you.
Taking a risk, she tugs the underwear out her mouth and desperately begs for you. “Please! I need more, I wanna feel you against me! Please please please!!”
Such a dumb little thing, but you give her what she wants. “Of course baby. Anything you want.”
You lay Robin down on your bed, and spread her legs. One is in between yours, and the other is on the side of you. Both of your cores touching. You can feel her clit on yours, pulsing in need.
You grind up against her, Robin whimpering in response. Then, you go faster. You grind against her faster, and faster. Until eventually, you’re shaking the whole bed.
Robin is crying against you, tears rolling onto her chin. Her head is facing the pillow, hands holding onto the bedsheets. But you can’t have that, you want her to cum on you. You need her closer.
Grabbing her hands, your hold them and pull her closer to you, her clit practically smashing against yours. Your rub your clit over hers just one more timeand she cums. She cums just from being closer to you. God, she’s pathetic.
You let go of her hands, but you don’t stop. You keep going, chasing your orgasm. God you’re so close. Robin is thrashing on the bed, she looks feral.
Can’t even stay still. Her back is arching off the bed, head whirling and hands grabbing at your thighs. She looks close, she’s gonna cum again.
“You gonna cum pretty baby? Already? So pathetic, now aren’t you?” Robin looks at you and nods. “I bet there isn’t a single thought in that dumb head of yours.” And that sets Robin over the edge. She cums for a second time that night.
The feeling over her clit pulsing against yours sets you over the edge too, you cum almost exactly at the same time as her. Robin falls against the bed, panting and tired. She looks so fucked out right now. Such a shame, you’re not done with her.
“Get up slut, I wanna feel you against my thigh.”
“Huh?” Robin asks like a dumb bunny.
“Get the fuck up and ride my thigh.”
“But-but-“
“But-but” you mock her rudely, her eyes tearing up.
“But I already came!”
“And? I don’t care, get the fuck on my thigh and ride it.”
Robin obliges, anything for you. Anything for mommy.
Slowly grinding against you, she tries to find a rhythm. She’s going so fucking slow though. So, you decide to help her.
You grab Robins hips and grind her at your own pace, while simultaneously bouncing your leg up at just the right angle to hit her clit. Robins head lolls and falls in your shoulder, she clamps her teeth down on your shoulder and let’s the tears fall.
God it feels amazing but she needs to cum! She’s spasming on your leg, thrashing yet again. God she’s so cute! Your own personal fuck toy.
“Bet you can’t think of anything right now. Tell me, what’s instrument do you play?” You ask condescendingly.
“I-I-I don’t know! Please I just wanna cum!” Robin pleads, such a cute little baby.
“Then cum.” And she does. She cums hard, all over your thigh. She spasms and twitches as you continue to ride out her orgasm.
Twitching from the aftershocks, she falls asleep on your shoulder. Such a cute little thing. Your little fucked out babydoll. She’ll learn to take more than that. You’ll train her to be yours, yours and only yours. Your personal cum dump.
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