#and the dishwasher will flood the counter

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Part of the frustration is knowing that, if I’d gone with the assumption that “between 8am and 1pm” meant closer to noon, the plumber would have been here at 7:55am at the latest.

But because I decided to be ready nice and early, it’s currently 11:30 and I haven’t heard a peep.

[ssahotchnerr]

hello my sweet! been reading your stuff a lot lately and the way you write aaron is so beautiful and real but anyway i’ll stop gushing - imagine just EXISTING with aaron. like the both of you doing your evening routines and just being happy and safe in each others prescence like UNF I NEED HIM BIBLICALLY

also also imagine him using his height to tease u like knowing you always use a particular mug so he likes putting it on the top shelf so he can tower over you and press himself against your back under the pretense of “helping” like aaron you little slut we know what you’re trying to do and its mean😠 (do it again)

anyway ily lots and i hope you’ve had a good day n stuff

- Gem💙

routine and a tease

thank you so much my sweet ily!! hehe here's a thing including alllll of that cw; suggestiveness, allusions to sex, mentions of food, aaron being a lil shit <3 wc; 1k

aaron's alarm goes off at seven, yours at seven thirty.

you're notorious for hitting snooze, several times, while aaron promptly rises at the first ring. half the time, you're convinced he even beats his alarm most days.

aaron's finished showering by the time you drag yourself out of bed. steam's still coating the bathroom mirror, the air's a bit thick with the lingering heat, and it fogs into your bedroom. as you enter, he exits, but not without giving you your first kiss of the morning. you hop in the shower next, while aaron dresses and trails out.

being the first awake, aaron has the awakening the apartment duties. he pulls the curtains open, allowing the morning light to flood in. he grabs jack's backpack off the chair at the dining room table, quickly double checks that homework was completed, and that the papers in his folder are orderly and within easy access, according to jack's lesson schedule - science is first, then math, language arts, so on - and back into his backpack it goes. he then double checks to make sure his briefcase and go-bag has everything he needs, he'll retrieve his gun and badge when he heads out later.

aaron sets both by the door, as well as your bag. he knows everything is already prepared and ready to go - you won't go to bed the night prior if it's not. you've told him many times, as not an early riser, why add a reason to rush in the morning if you can help it?

being the first awake also has its advantages, especially when it comes to a certain game aaron is fond of playing. he'll never deny himself the opportunity to poke affectionate fun at you.

and he does so for the other benefit; it does tend you rile you up.

even this, is routine.

you enter the kitchen with a yawn - you passed aaron in the hallway, where he gave you your second kiss of the day, off to jack's room to get him up and at 'em.

aaron's already brewed the coffee, and your creamer is on the counter waiting for you. all you need to do is open the cabinet to retrieve your favorite cup.

it's a mug jack painted you, at one of those pottery and art studios in the city. it was one of your birthday surprises this past year, and it's the only mug you plan on using for the rest of time. you even have a matching plate, aaron's own doing when he accompanied jack at the studio.

no matter how many times aaron pulls the stunt, your reaction is always the same. your brows crumble at the absence - at the empty spot amongst the other mugs. where you had left it the night before after unloading the dishwasher, it's no longer there. and as expected it's on the very top shelf, way out of your reach.

"aaron," you whine, loudly enough it trails out of the kitchen and down the hall.

a moment later aaron enters, a mischievous, knowing glint in his eyes. he knows that whine, but doesn't address it, naturally. "good morning darling. sleep well?"

you narrow your eyes, playfully glaring at him as your arms crossed in front of you. despite your ministrations, a smile tugs at your lips, "i did. you?"

"mhmm." he presses his lips to yours. his eyes quickly flick up to the open cabinet, right to where your mug stands, but remains purposefully oblivious.

you continue to play along. "busy day ahead?"

aaron shrugs, grabbing his mug and pouring his helping. "nothing out of the ordinary. budget meeting, there's a few reports i have to finish, the usual."

you hum in response, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

aaron takes a sip of coffee, only to hide his itching smile. "is there something wrong?"

"is there?" you mock his cheeky tone, and your eyes narrow again. "somehow, my mug isn't where i left it."

"that's strange," aaron feigns confusion, his brows furrowing as his gaze moved upward. "all the way up there? wonder how that happened."

you scoff lightly, turning back to the cupboard. you leaned up on your tiptoes as you attempted to reach for it, anticipating his next move. "yeah, i wonder."

as you expected, aaron's front is suddenly flush against your back, fully crowding you, his mouth at your ear. "lemme help." his voice is low as he reaches up, retrieving your mug with ease. his other hand lands on the spot right above your ass, daring to move lower, and causing your breath to catch in your throat.

but, aaron withdrawals his hand the second he hears the soft breath escape you, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring it into your mug himself.

mission successful, once again.

you exhale, deeply yet gently, heat filling your cheeks. it's days like these, you'll opt for iced coffee.

some rare mornings though, with jack at jess's and neither you or aaron have anywhere to be, his actions don't stop there. more often than not, the two of you don't even bother to leave the kitchen.

aaron leans up against the counter, silently watching you prepare your coffee to your liking, rather unenthusiastically at that. after your first sip, and another amused glare directed at him, you start pulling out the cereal for breakfast. aaron falls alongside you, beginning to pack jack's lunch - grabbing an uncrustable from the freezer, filling a ziploc of carrots, another of veggie straws.

again, your shared, usual routine.

you're the one to finally break the silence. "one of these days, i'm buying a step stool."

"no you won't," a laugh bursts from him as he grabs a juice box from the fridge, the loudness of it making you grin instantly. he straightens his posture as he stands back upright, a half smile, half smirk plastered on his face. "you enjoy this just as much as i do. even more."

he has you there, and from the expression your face pulls in response, he knows it. a laugh leaves him once more as he crowds you, backing you against the counter and pressing his lips to yours.

"this is the best part of the morning,'' aaron mumbles into your lips. "is it not?"

[motleyfam]

Living with a houseful of nocturnal crime-fighting vigilantes means that Duke’s come to expect a certain amount of solitude in the mornings—particularly on weekends, when even Alfred is rarely seen before ten—which is why he’s more than a little thrown when he enters the Cave at 6:30 on a Saturday to find Tim sitting up on one of the beds in the medical unit. He’s hugging his knees, forehead resting against them, keeping so still that for a moment Duke isn’t sure if he’s awake or asleep.

“Uh...Tim?” he says cautiously as he approaches the cot. “Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?”

“Nah…” Tim mumbles into his knees. “‘M fine. Just psyching myself up.”

“What exactly are you psyching yourself up for?” He takes in Tim’s unnatural pallor, the sheen of sweat on his face. “You didn’t get hurt on patrol last night, did you?”

Tim huffs out a breathy laugh. “Didn’t even patrol last night.”

Duke frowns. “Why not?” Friday night is prime time for the Bats; the entire night shift is on the roster (except for Steph, who thanks to some horrible luck with her college registrar was forced to take an eight a.m. sociology class on Saturdays).

“Benched, remember?” Releasing his legs, Tim tugs the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt up just enough to reveal the gauze wrapped around his left hand.

Duke winces as it all comes flooding back to him. Three nights ago, he and Tim had been loading the dishwasher after dinner when Tim had accidentally dropped a salad plate. He’d tried to catch it mid-air, but the plate had hit the edge of the counter, shattering on impact and leaving him clutching a six-inch shard of broken china instead. The slice to his palm had required five sutures.

“Did you rip your stitches or something?” Duke asks.

Another huff of air—the ghost of a laugh. “No, but I’m about to.”

At Duke’s puzzled look, Tim sighs and explains, “I uh, woke up about an hour ago feeling kinda lousy.” A shiver runs through him. “Like, feverish lousy.”

“Shit,” Duke says, grimacing. Regardless of how careful they are with cleaning and dressing Tim’s wounds, his immunocompromised state will always put him at an increased risk of developing infections. He’d had three last year alone.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees with a tired sigh. He looks down at his gauze-wrapped hand again and grimaces. “Just psyching myself up to deal with it. ‘M kinda nauseous.”

“So…just to check if I’ve got this straight, your plan was to come down here alone, cut your own stitches, debride an infected wound, and redo the whole thing—all while running a fever and trying not to puke?”

“Uh…” Tim rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “That about sums it up, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence between them.

Duke lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright.” He heads for the sink. “Just give me a minute to scrub in…”

[kpopfanfictrash]

Elemental (Teaser)

(NEW) Posting Date: September 28th, 11:00 AM (CST)

Genre:  Second Chance / Magic!AU / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by knowing you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed. Something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The one person making you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And just maybe, you find the constraints you place on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Author’s Note: Loosely inspired by the Seven MV. Songs to listen to: Dark Skies, A R I Z O N A; Fallingwater, Maggie Rogers; Cold Water, Justin Bieber; Hold Back the River, James Bay; Through Me (The Flood), Hozier

Estimated WC: 23K

Rating: 18+

Preview: 1,015

[ A/N: this is not the start of the story! There is a scene before this, but the teaser is starting here. ] 

“Tell me again.” Seokjin sits at the table, spooning yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open an eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped beside him. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble, lifting your head. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be,” he counters, pointing his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away any time something bad happens.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” He lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you lower your head to rest on your arm. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, Seokjin’s spoon scrapes the bowl. Pushing back his chair, he heads towards the sink and turns on the faucet. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting. 

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble and close your eyes.

Two days have passed since your decision to end your relationship, and it hasn’t gone great, to put things lightly. On Monday, you barely left your room as rain poured from the sky. When you did manage to turn on the TV, the weatherperson on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin came home from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped to stop the storm. You sagged in relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embrace their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he recently took over their magical consulting business. It pays well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and well, here you are. One of the few people in the city who don’t care if their roommate is an Elemental, so long as your rent is controlled.

Not that you’re in it for the discount. You truly don’t care, being an Elemental yourself. Seokjin’s laissez-faire attitude towards magic can be unnerving at times, though. You’ve lived your entire life under the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need to do is Google for examples and here Seokjin is, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your magic a month into being your roommate. Coming home early from a trip, he opened the door and stared, slack-jawed, while the dishes washed themselves in the sink. You looked up and swore, accidentally sending two dishes over the side.

Seokjin stared at the broken shards, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he called, heading into his room. After a minute, he poked his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… that’s a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand why you don’t use your magic but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until things like this happen and he’s once more at a loss.

“Listen.” Seokjin turns, shutting the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grip your coffee. “What now?”

He holds both hands in the air. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant learned life experience. Through mistakes.”

You grimace. “What there a question in all that rambling?”

“No question.” Seokjin gestures at the kitchen. “Just letting you know you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure things out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insisted. I really, really don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Hey.” Seokjin’s grin takes on a dark quality. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

Fighting a smile, you lean back in your chair. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you,” you add, smile fading. “This will give me time to come up with a plan.”

Nodding again, Seokjin leans on his counter. Tracing the rim of his coffee, he glances down the hall, towards his third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you respond, automatic.

Seokjin pouts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time to work on my art.”

He shrugs. “Okay, maybe you did know. But seriously, why not?”

“Because, Seokjin.” Wearily, you exhale. “Every time I try and paint, I just feel this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I could freely express my magic but lately… everything feels wrong. Nothing works like it should.”

Seokjin looks thoughtful. “How long has this been happening?”

“I don’t know, a few months?”

He sips his coffee. “Around the time you started dating Jungkook.”

Blinking, you realize he’s right. That’s almost exactly when you began dating Jungkook. The block started soon after, right when you suppressed other parts of yourself. Those early days hurt too much to think about though, and so you block them out.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare. “Right now, what I need is to find a job. And earn money. Preferably, in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order reverses. I know a guy.”

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[alienguts]

Stay with Me (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce and Y/N's tentative first date gets extended when a storm floods the roads.

Warnings: Fluff, idiots with feelings who can't communicate them properly.

Request?: Not really, but I like writing this dynamic to see where the relationship goes.

A/N: I doubt anybody would ever have a problem with how fictional dogs are characterised, but I like to think that Ace and Titus are friendly pups who like people.

1 - Picking up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me |

Earlier in the week, Bruce had asked Y/N to come over for dinner. Neither of them had said the word ‘date’, but it was certainly treated like one.

The plan was originally for the two of them to order pizza and eat it in front of the TV while Y/N showed Bruce all the movies that he’d missed out on over the years, but the rest of the Wayne household had other ideas.

As soon as she’d pressed the doorbell,the front door was flung open to reveal Damian suited up for patrol, his brothers crowding the doorway around him. The small boy tried to keep his composure as his much taller brothers tried to push past him, eager to finally see Y/N after missing her for so long.

“Boys, you have to let Y/N come in,” Bruce’s voice came from behind the wall of geared up heroes.

“We just wanted to say hi to her before we go,” Dick said as he stepped away from the door first.

“Before you go?” Y/N asked in surprise. “Where are you going?”

“Bruce put us on patrol so he can stay here for your date,” Tim said and tried to yank Damian away from her side.

Y/N looked at Bruce and saw his face turn pink in embarrassment.

“It’s not a date,” Bruce said quickly. “We’re just having dinner, that’s all.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Jason said drily before slinking off into the manor, Tim and Dick following behind him after waving to Y/N.

Just as she was about to step inside the manor, Y/N felt a tap on her side. She turned her attention back to Damian, who had yet to follow the others.

“It was nice to see you, Y/N,” he said before heading down to the Cave.

“When did he get so nice?” Y/N asked once Damian was completely out of earshot. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Bruce said as he closed the front door behind her. “We all know how Damian can be. He must have missed you.”

When the cool evening air was shut out, the smell of food trailing in from the kitchen got stronger. The unmistakable smell of toasted bread and melted cheese filled Y/N’s senses and made her mouth water.

“You already ordered without me?” she asked as they made their way towards the kitchen.

“Not exactly,” Bruce said sheepishly.

A large cheese pizza sat in the middle of the kitchen island, steam rising from its surface. The counter against the wall was dusted with flour and an empty bowl of red sauce was ready to go into the dishwasher.

“Ah, so nice to see you Ms Y/N!” Alfred said as he appeared from behind the refrigerator door.

“Alfred made it for us,” Bruce said.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Alfred said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen you in such a long time, I thought I would make something special.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Y/N said and took a seat at the counter. “Your cooking is just as good as ordering takeout.”

“You’re too kind, Ms Y/N.” Alfred took off the apron he was wearing and hung it up on a hook on a wall before making his way back to the foyer. “Enjoy your evening.”

Once Alfred had gone, Y/N turned to face Bruce who was now the colour of a tomato. She had to stop herself from laughing as he buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Sorry about all of that,” he said as he took a seat next to her. “When I told them you were coming over, they all acted like it was Christmas.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N said and took the pizza cutter that Alfred had left on the counter. “I like seeing your family.”

“Obviously they like seeing you too.” He watched as she cut two slices and passed one to him. “Wait, let me get some silverware.”

Y/N laughed before taking a bite of her slice.

“You’ve never changed, Bruce,” she said around the bite of hot pizza. “Just eat it with your hands!”

“Old habits die hard, huh?”

Although Y/N hadn’t expected the night to go wrong, it went a lot better than she’d expected. Since Bruce had sent the boys out on patrol duty and Alfred was keeping track of the comms, there were no distractions other than Ace and Titus sniffing around and wanting to be cuddled.

While Titus was more wary of Y/N, having been trained by Damian to be on watch, Ace was more than happy to shove his snout under her arm and wedge himself between her and Bruce. Despite being a German Shepherd, he seemed to want to be a lap dog.

The night was spent in front of the seldom-used television in the living room, Y/N showing Bruce her favourite movies and shows that he’d missed out on. And that turned out to be almost every movie and show ever made.

“Bruce, how can you have a subscription to every single streaming service and have not even seen The Simpsons?” she’d asked at one point.

“I don’t exactly have the time to be sitting around watching cartoons, Y/N,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, fighting crime and running a company and attending charity events doesn’t allow for a lot of leisure time.”

By 10pm, Y/N decided that it was time for her to head back home. She still had the weekend ahead of her but she didn’t really want to spend the last part of her night stuck in traffic.

There was just one problem: it had started raining. Heavily.

Y/N had never seen so much rain before. As a native Gothamite, she knew how extreme the weather could be at times, especially during the colder months. But this was torrential.

Thankfully, Wayne Manor was on higher ground and away from any likely flooding but the same couldn’t be said for her apartment on the Lower East Side. She watched the rain from the safety of the living room, worrying about how she would get home, or whether she could get home at all.

“It’s really coming down out there, huh?” Bruce said from behind her, snapping her out of her head.

“Yeah,” she said, her breath fogging up the window. “God, I hope the roads are okay.”

“You could always spend the night here,” he said casually. Maybe a little too casually.

“What?” Y/N asked as she turned around in surprise.

“I can get Alfred to make up the guest room for you. I didn’t mean, spend the night.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed in relief. 

They hadn’t made anything official yet, weren’t even calling the date a ‘date’, so why had her mind immediately jumped to that?

“But I don’t have anything to change into, or my toothbrush,” Y/N said quickly, trying to make the air a little less awkward.

“That’s no problem, I can get you some clothes and I’m sure we’ve got a spare toothbrush or two.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked as she moved away from the window. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Y/N,” Bruce said and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re family to us. You’re not intruding and I’m sure the boys will love you to stay over.”

Her heart warmed at hearing him speak so earnestly. She’d never been able to explain why she’d never felt comfortable in the manor when Selina was around, but it was all down to her own insecurities and jealousy. She hated to admit it to herself, but she hated being around them when they were a couple and she felt like she’d been cast aside, whether or not that was the case.

She didn’t care that it was selfish to think that Selina being out of the picture gave her her best friend back, but it was like he was finally seeing her again after years of being invisible. Like Bruce wanted her to be in his life again and wanted her to know that.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heart pick up its pace.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Bruce returned her hug and rested his cheek on the top of her head, crouching down slightly so he could reach her.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I think the atmosphere would be better around here with you.”

Y/N lifted her head from his chest, about to step away, when he gently pulled her onto her toes and captured her lips with his own. She startled slightly at first before letting him guide her, moving her hands from his chest to loop loosely around his neck, the hair at the nape of his neck just brushing her fingers. Their lips moved together softly, chaste enough to not escalate the situation but just passionate enough to feel it.

Once again, it was over too soon for Y/N’s liking. Bruce pulled away and briefly rested his forehead against hers before standing up straight again. He reluctantly released her from his hold and took her hand to lead her upstairs.

“C’mon, we’d better find you something to wear.”

When Bruce had said that he’d find something for Y/N to wear to bed, she didn’t expect him to give her his clothes. The look on her face when he’d handed them to her must have said something.

“I didn’t want to look through the boys’ clothes so I just got something out of my closet,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said and took them before opening the door for the guest bedroom.

Bruce, naturally, was still wide awake and was going to join Alfred in the Cave but stayed up to help him make up the guest room and wish Y/N goodnight. Usually when she stayed over at a friend's house, she expected to sleep on their couch, not in a lavish guest room. But, then again, most people weren’t best friends with a billionaire.

“I had a really good night,” Y/N said as she lingered in the doorway . “We should have another night like this.”

“We should,” Bruce said with a warm smile. “I think the boys will be happy about that too. They were always asking when the next time you were coming over was.”

“Well, hopefully you can tell them that I’ll see them more often.”

“Don’t be surprised if they almost knock the door down tomorrow morning.”

They were quiet for a moment, neither of them wanting the night to end, but tiredness taking over Y/N’s body. She tried her best to stifle a yawn but only made herself look more tired.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Bruce said before stroking the side of her face with the back of his fingers and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Good night, Bruce,” Y/N said before reluctantly slinking into the bedroom.

As soon as the door softly clicked shut, Y/N inhaled deeply and slowly let her breath out. The night had felt like a dream and she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to wake up and find out that it had never happened. But the bundle of clothes in her arms told her differently.

She crossed the room to the bed and set the clothes down on it before undressing. Her own clothes felt scratchy and cheap in comparison to Bruce’s. He always told her that designer clothes weren’t important to him, but the quality of them clearly did. She pulled the plain grey t-shirt over her head and donned the sweatpants and sighed when the soft cotton brushed against her skin.

If she closed her eyes, it felt like Bruce was still with her, his strong arms circling her body and the scent of his cologne filling her senses. The clothes were far too big for her, but that didn’t stop her from feeling completely at ease.

Things were still moving slowly for the two of them; Bruce was still recovering from heartbreak, after all. But a slow pace was better than nothing. Y/N didn’t want to completely ruin everything by coming across too strong, but she wished Bruce was really there to sleep next to her.

Wearing his clothes would have to do for now.

As she drifted off to sleep, her mind conjured up the feeling of him holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, an echo of his heartbeat in her ear. Hopefully the next step in their relationship would come sooner rather than later, but she was willing to wait for him.

Even if that took forever.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Miss Demeanor

[A/N: So I ended up envisioning reader as Aaron’s sugar baby from Dinner and a Show who’s now graduated and officially moved in as His Girl :’) Can definitely be read as a standalone, but they just seemed to fit this one!

Pls enjoy this smut with the tiniest hint of plot that magically flew out of my fingers this evening (when I should have been studying l o l)]

You love your boyfriend. Adore him, really. Infatuation is unhealthy, sure, and you’ll tell Jack as such when he gets to the age where he starts becoming interested in dating, but you can’t help that your sun rises and sets with his dad. The man is the ultimate protector, partner, father, and lover. He’s everything you could’ve ever dreamed of and more.

But right now, you kind of want to strangle him with one of his stupid ties.

“Aaron,” you groan, sounding about as old as your little Hotchner currently is (eight, by the way, and suddenly too cool to snuggle with you during movie nights). Taking several plates out of the dishwasher, you stack them together and place them in the cabinet before trying again. “Baby, you just got home last night. Can’t you take one day off to spend with your girl?”

“Honey,” he sighs, mouth molding into a frown as he takes the clean mugs from you and arranges them on their designated shelf. “I just need to finish up some paperwork and then a quick consult with the New York field office.”

“No, no, I get it,” you respond softly, closing the dishwasher before crossing your arms and jutting out your lower lip with a dramatic sniffle to top it off. “I see where your priorities lie.”

“Hey now,” he coos, giving in to your little charade. With two short strides, he’s engulfing you in his arms, pressing you against his chest as his fingers run through your hair. “At least I’m working from home, right?” His voice rumbles through you from where you’re tucked into his large frame and you smile at the sensation, fisting his navy blue t-shirt in your hands and trying to draw him even closer as you take a big inhale of his intoxicating smell.

“Mm, I guess so,” you concede. “It’s just that…” You trail off, letting your hands roam further south until they’re planted firmly on his ass.

“Oh,” your boyfriend chuckles warmly, the sound sending a thrill through you. He hoists you up onto the counter before nuzzling his nose into the curve of your neck and you let out a whimper. “Jack’s with his aunt so you want to play, hm?”

You throw your head back to grant him more access, and the very fact that you can feel Aaron’s hand already in place to protect you from the wooden cabinet sends a flood of warmth between your legs. He presses a line of languid kisses along the hollow of your throat, and you begin panting in earnest. “Please, my love,” you whine, tugging at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Missed you so much.”

You feel two fingers prodding at your lips as he continues his assault on your neck, and you immediately open your mouth to let him in. The distinct taste that is Aaron bursts across your tongue, and you release a wanton moan as you swirl your tongue around the thick digits. Drawing your legs up, you cross your ankles behind his back and shamelessly rut against him, a high-pitched keen escaping past your lips when he rolls his hips in tandem with yours.

Aaron’s cellphone rings in his office, sounding a million miles away and yet loud enough to pierce your bubble. He detaches his lips from your neck with a groan, reaching behind his back to unhook your ankles. Pressing his mouth against yours in a tender kiss, he murmurs, “Just a couple hours, sweet girl. Be good for me, okay?”

You watch in utter disbelief as boyfriend Aaron morphs into Unit Chief Hotchner before your very eyes with a quick adjustment of his grey sweatpants and clearing of his throat. You’re still seated on the countertop, panting and flustered as all hell, when you hear his voice carrying from the other room, low and gruff and oh so sexy. “Hotchner.”

You decide in that moment that you most definitely will not be good for him.

You hop off the counter and pad down the hallway into the master bedroom, digging through the top drawer of the dresser until you find what you’re looking for- Aaron’s favorite purple lingerie set. Shucking off your pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, you slip into the lacy fabric, appreciating the way it hugs your every curve in the full length mirror by your closet. You judiciously apply your cherry blossom-scented lotion to your freshly shaved legs and splash a touch of perfume along your pulse points for good measure. After all, your perfect man is ultimately just that: a man.

Satisfied with your work, you snag the button down Aaron had discarded last night and drape it over your body as the finishing touch. Tugging the collar tighter around you, you take a deep whiff of his cologne, and the smell of him alone sends another wave of arousal coursing through your veins. You continue down the hall, pausing at the threshold of his office to ensure he’s off the phone before knocking on the doorframe. “Aaron?”

“Yes, angel, I- christ.” He swivels in his chair to face you, the rest of his sentence catching in his throat at the sight of you, and your lips quirk up in a grin.

“Remember the day I bought this for you?” He swallows thickly and drops his head into a nod, a gleam in his darkening eyes. Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you shimmy his shirt over your shoulders until it bunches at the crook of your elbows and stand before him on display. “You remember what we did that night?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice a tantalizing growl. “Do you remember when I told you to be good for me ten minutes ago?”

You hum, tapping your index finger against your chin as if in deep thought before responding, “Mm mm. Nope.”

His jaw ticks ever so slightly, and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. You can see him warring between rewarding your patience while he was away and punishing your blatant defiance now. Finally, he makes up his mind and pats the thick muscle of his thigh twice.

You cross the remainder of the room between you with a giggle, happily clambering into his lap and letting out a moan of delight when your aching core brushes against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. He traces the lace along the swell of your breasts with one finger, and you arch up into his expert touch. “What exactly do you want, naughty thing?”

You mouth hungrily at his neck, sucking at the soft skin there and moaning at his taste. Aaron winds his hand around your neck, tightening his grip as leverage to pull you back and you cry out, more so in pleasure than the tinge of pain. “I have to scruff you like a fucking cat to get you to focus,” he laughs darkly, the sound instantly making you feel small and submissive. He releases you from his hold, instead shifting his hand to cup your face and allowing you to nuzzle against his palm. “Answer my question.”

“Want to feel you, Daddy. Want you to fill me up, please, please, I need it.”

“Do you want me to fill you up here?” He slides his thumb past your parted lips and you suck on it greedily. Then he runs the wet digit down your body, between the valley of your breasts, along your stomach, swirling his thumb around your button once before pressing the pad of it against the wet spot of your panties. You let out a needy whimper and he murmurs, “Or do you want me to fill you up here, Princess?”

“Well,” you manage to puff out between your panting as you rut against the pressure of his finger, “you work so hard, Daddy. I thought I could be a good girl and keep your- ugh fuck- cock warm while you finish.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he croons softly, and you glow with pride. “Do you think you can sit still for that long?” You nod eagerly and abruptly halt the rocking of your hips, determined to show him just how patient you can be. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs against your mouth, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you cry out. “Fuck, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the unbidden confession. Carding your fingers through his hair, you kiss the tip of his nose before nipping at it and muttering back, “I love you more.”

He hits you with one of those knee-buckling, thousand-watt smiles before shaking his head, the dominant mask falling back into place. “Sit up for me, Princess.”

You raise yourself up on your knees on either side of his legs, just enough for Aaron to shift his sweatpants down and free his hardened length. Your mouth waters instantly at the sight, and without breaking eye contact with him, you let your saliva fall past your lips and onto the head of his cock before spreading it with your hand. His head falls back and his mouth drops open at the feeling of your soft skin on his aching hard on. Virtual sex is a life saver when Aaron’s across the country on a case, but nothing, nothing beats the real thing. “I need to be inside of you now, baby,” he rasps out, and you’re quick to oblige, pulling your slick panties aside and sinking down on his length. You let out a sound that can only be described as pornographic, and you feel his dick swelling even more inside you in response. Taking a stuttered breath, you tighten your walls around him experimentally and gasp when he grips your hips with a sudden ferocity. “Don’t.”

Nestling down further in his lap, you lock your arms behind his back and tuck your face into his neck. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and then you hear the telltale shuffling of loose papers on the desk. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you fall into a dreamless sleep consumed by everything that is Aaron…

“Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“I’m here, just grabbing the case file.”

You rouse from your nap to the sound of tinny voices coming through Aaron’s work laptop, and you’re overcome by a feeling of emptiness. Blinking away the haze of sleep, you find yourself on the couch in your boyfriend’s office underneath a plush blanket. The blinds are open, soft midday light filtering into the room obscuring your view of the faces on the call. The voices are unfamiliar to you as well, and you recall Aaron mentioning the New York field office. Twisting your wrist to get a look at the time, you grumble, “A couple hours, my ass.” Slipping out from underneath the blanket, you ease onto all fours on the floor to stay out of the camera’s view. You crawl across the short distance to Aaron’s desk, trying to squeeze into the space between his legs and blushing when you hear him clear his throat. He rolls back a few inches so you can settle underneath the desk, then raises one eyebrow in question when you look up at him, doe-eyed and innocent. You mime zipping your lips and he nods, then returns his attention to the screen and presses a hand against his face to cover his mouth before confirming, “I’m muted. What are you doing?”

“Taking what’s mine,” you state matter-of-factly, pulling his chair further under the desk before tugging his sweats down enough to reach your coveted prize.

“Y/N,” he growls low, a warning.

“Focus on your consult, SSA Hotchner,” you simper, licking a languid stripe along the vein on the underside of his cock. He takes a measured breath before you hear his voice, calm as ever. “Yes, we have some notes on the profile. It’s likely your unsub has a previous history of…”

You let his words fade into the background, focusing all of your attention on sucking his cock as slowly and quietly as possible. The dull ache between your legs and your extended nap mean you decidedly did not get the reunion fuck you deserve, and your goal now is to push Aaron’s resolve to its limits. He wants to make you wait? Two can play at that game.

Starting at the base of his cock, you press gentle, teasing kisses along his length until you reach the tip, then suckle at the head and dip your tongue into the slit to gather his precum. It takes every ounce of your willpower to keep quiet, especially given how utterly desperate you’ve been for a taste of Aaron since the moment he left for this last case. Above you, papers rustle as he flips through the case file and continues lamenting about sociopath this and devolving nature of the crimes that, but his dominant hand makes its way under the desk to grasp your hair tightly and pull. You lower your mouth further onto his cock to muffle your cry of pain and Aaron’s hips stutter, forcing the tip to brush against the back of your throat. Tears spring to your eyes and you dig your nails into the meat of Aaron’s thighs, willing yourself to tamp down the cough threatening to escape.

He shifts his hand to the back of your head, holding you down as he subtly shifts his hips and effectively fucks your throat. The power he holds over you coupled with the assault on your senses clouds your mental acuity, and you let one of your hands fall between your legs to pleasure yourself as Aaron uses your body. The heel of your palm brushes over your sensitive clit, and you moan reflexively. It’s not quite audible, but the vibration has Aaron’s cock twitching against the column of your throat and you know that he’s close.

“Excuse me for one moment, let me just see what has my dog whining.”

You process his words just as Aaron pulls back from the desk, his dick slipping from between your lips as you actually let out a whine at the intimation that you’re his bitch. Tugging his pants down further, you kiss along his muscular legs, nearly delirious with need.

“Y/N,” he snaps, and you look up at him with wide eyes, absolutely ruined. He beckons you closer with one finger and you move forward, crying out sharply when the palm of his hand makes contact with the soft skin of your cheek. “Oh fuck,” you moan wantonly. “Do that again.”

“You’re such a little whore,” he laughs, equal parts awed and exasperated. “We’re almost done here. Be good for me and then I’ll fuck you the way you deserve, Princess. Deal?”

A smile threatens to split your face in half and you nod eagerly, adding a, “Yes, sir,” for good measure.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, caressing your reddened cheek. “Open.” You oblige happily, taking in a deep breath through your nose as Aaron settles back in your throat underneath the desk. “And for Christ’s sake, behave.” You hear two clicks of the mouse and realize he’s put his camera and mic back on. Sitting back on your haunches, you rest your cheek against Aaron’s thigh and slowly, lovingly bob your head along his length, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of him as his soothing voice fills the room. His deft fingers massage your scalp and you imitate the motion with your own hands, one kneading his free thigh, the other caressing his balls. Finally, mercifully, you hear a chorus of thank you for your time and we look forward to working with the BAU again, and Aaron’s laptop clicks shut with a sense of finality.

“Okay, baby girl,” he calls, “come on out.”

You crawl out from under the desk, licking your lips at the image before you, a jungle cat on the prowl. “Can we play now, Daddy?”

He lazily fists his cock, clearly toying with you, and you watch his every movement with rapt attention. “I have half a mind to punish you for that stunt you pulled, you know.”

“I won’t say no to a good punishment,” you simper, nuzzling against his leg and obediently sucking on the head of his cock when he guides it toward your eager mouth.

“But,” he continues, “I made you a deal.” Aaron draws in a sharp breath when you redouble your efforts, sucking harder and moaning unabashedly now that you don’t have to remain quiet anymore. “Baby,” he pants, “fuck, Princess, I-” The rest of his thought dies on his lips and his jaw falls slack as he finally gives in to you. You draw out his release for as long as you can, happy little mewls from you at the taste of him on your tongue joining Aaron’s filthy praise. He takes your hand and guides you up toward him, your legs on either side of his as you straddle his lap in an exact image of where you started this morning.

Cradling your face in his large hands, Aaron pulls you in for a deep kiss, a possessive growl rumbling deep in his throat at the way you melt against him. “I hope you enjoyed your nap, little one,” he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, “because that’s the only sleep you’re getting today.”

———

AH tags 🖤: @gothwifehotchner

[dont-f-with-moogles]

The Envelope (Part 2) (NSFW) Dazai x Reader 1261 words

Cold morning. A tentative blue threaded with pale clouds. Mist had gathered in the corners of the windows. The double doors remained closed for now; you still had time to unload the gleaming cups and saucers from the dishwasher. Your manager - Uzumaki’s renowned, veteran barista - passed by the counter. His mouth was pulled to the side as though he was suppressing an uncomfortable smile.

“I, ah… think someone is trying to call you.”

With a wave of his hand he gestured to the lit smartphone which lay, singing idly to itself, nestled between a tray of glasses and the petty cash tin. A leaden weight had settled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t need to check to know who it was.

As you continued stacking the cups within a wall-mounted cupboard the phone’s melody ceased, only to be followed by the sound of a chime. One insistent ping followed another; a flurry of notifications without pause. With a pained sigh, you retrieved your phone. Refusing to scroll back and read the long reel of previous messages, your eyes settled on the most recent.

Not that I want you to rush back of course! It’s only a small fire after all.

There came the rapid tap of your thumbs in reply.

I told you this morning that I’m not coming back until after my shift.

Dropping the device down with a thud, you continued to put cups, glasses and cutlery away, all the while ignoring the series of shrill sounds which rang impatiently from your phone.

“Sounds like someone wants to talk to you,” the café owner observed, unlatching the double doors and releasing a flood of warm light into the long room. Rather than answer, you pretended to search for something in the dishwasher’s cutlery basket.

“Perhaps you ought to answer him?”

“What makes you think it’s a him?” you countered, looking up at just the wrong moment. The café manager’s smile was all-knowing. He was a people watcher; an inadvertent gatherer of secrets. He had held his position with quiet pride for many years, unobtrusively pouring coffee as the lives of his customers played out around him.

Lifting a small bag of sugar cubes, you began to refill the ceramic containers on the tables.

“...in any case, if you don’t answer, he might come up here.”

Hesitating, sugar tongs still in hand, you managed a derisive snort. It did not take long for your false bravado to cower upon itself. Thinking better of it, you stalked back to the counter to seize your phone.

I won’t be back til 6. Grab a shower or a coffee or some fresh bandages if you have indeed set fire to yourself - whatever you need, but don’t wait for me to get back. Spare key in the teapot.

The device had hardly touched the surface when its screen glowed in response.

Good to know there’s another spare. I took the key you hid in the sconce. Think I’ll hang onto it ;)

You do that. Think I’ll have the locks changed.

Ah! You’re driving me insane! <3

“Miss?”

“Coming!” you called, relieved by the distraction. A steady queue of customers had formed from the cash register, snaking out into the hallway beyond. Stifling a yawn, you poured coffee into paper cups, adding a dash of milk here; a shot of syrup there. Plastic lids were fastened on in succession. You stretched your arms and arched your aching back. Names were penned on cardboard. The morning rush was always this busy, only to be followed by… silence. There was the respite after the madness. The calm before the storm. Only a visit from your rather irregular regulars could break up the monotony now. The Armed Detectives from the fourth floor, with their wild antics and raucous laughter… You ground your teeth. Not that you were thinking about him though. Not that you were, even now, considering checking your phone for his messages. Too often you had witnessed those poor souls who fell for his superficial charms. They would weep, helpless, struggling to comprehend the reason for his sudden absence. How ignorant they were, never knowing he had already moved on to his next person of interest…

Even as you stood, reasoning so calmly with yourself, your hand was inciting a mutiny against your mind and body. You reached for your phone again.

Ditch work. Tell the boss you have a headache and need to stay in bed ;)

I think he might see through that brilliant scheme?

Cruel mistress! Don’t make me beg :(

This is on you. I’m not making you do anything.

Three little dots danced, taunting, as he crafted his reply. You set the device to one side each time the café owner strode past. It was more than your job’s worth to be caught sending messages to one of your regular customers.

As the manager stooped to clear one of the tables, your phone buzzed irritably.

Don’t pretend. And for the record, I hate being made to wait.

Wait for what exactly? You smiled; it wasn’t like you to behave so coyly but, somehow, his persistence had reeled you in like a spider’s silk.

Seriously? Don’t forget that I’d been trapped behind bars for WEEKS. You know I couldn’t stop thinking about you in there. I thought last night was all I needed but holy fuck, I already miss your pussy…

The weight in your stomach shifted. Something sparked, like flint on stone.

It’s 9:28 am! We’ve only just opened.

Well what time does your pussy open? Cause I’m

Heat flooded your cheeks. You felt your pulse beating in your throat; blood roared thunderously in your ears. You looked up - another poorly-timed gesture - to witness Ranpo glance away thoughtfully, his finger tapping his chin. The detective who saw through everything.

You dropped your phone with a clatter.

“I thought the temperature was mild today,” he observed dryly, such was his way of small talk. “Is it hot in here?”

“Yes,” you answered automatically, placing your phone face down before you could read the rest of Dazai’s message. Given the brief glimpse of the words hard scream beg and gag you could only assume it contained some tangible threats. You dusted down your black skirt self-consciously and reached to tighten the fastening in your hair, remembering that you had been forced to wear it loose today. Only its dark curtain, as it swung about the white frill of your collar, could hide the blemishes he had left upon your skin the night before. Incriminating marks which had branded you as his.

“Sorry, I uh- Let me pass you a menu-”

“Sweet curry,” Ranpo declared without pause. “And, not that it’s any of my business, but Dazai thrives on dysfunction. Nothing bores him more than having his own schemes go smoothly. I wouldn’t be so quick to give him the replies he wants.”

You gaped in astonishment. “That’s not- that’s-”

“One doesn’t need ultra deduction to read it in your distracted demeanour; the way you’re repeatedly picking your phone up, cursing to yourself… we’ve seen it all before. It’s the Dazai effect. Not to mention the circles under your eyes, your constant yawning…”

“Plus those hickeys speak for themselves.” Yosano had appeared behind him. “Pour us both a coffee - you look like you need it.”

Ruefully brushing your hair down against your neck, you turned away, poured out two cups and grabbed a blue Ramune from the fridge. What had ever made you think that sleeping with Osamu Dazai would have gone unnoticed by a group of professional detectives?

Part 1 (tw)

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, pt 4

part 3 | zippers

🧁 | frosting

“Are you… baking?” Kara asked, nose sniffing toward the oven emitting scrumptious confetti-cake smells. She was interrupted only by the already-baked cupcakes sitting on the counter.

“Mhm,” Lena replied, wiping her fingers clean of powdered sugar. “No eating!”

“Wh-what?” Kara scowled, pulling away just in time to avoid a swat. “Why not?”

“They’re for Esme’s bake sale.”

“I don’t remember this being part of ‘godmother’ duties,” Kara pouted, collapsing onto a stool across from three dozen cooling cupcakes desperately wanting to be frosted, sprinkled, then inhaled by Kara Danvers, Girl of Steel and possessor of Bottomless Stomach.

“It’s not,” Lena laughed, “but Kelly called in a bind, and since I had the evening off-”

“To hang out with me,” Kara interrupted.

“-to hang out with you, yes, but I thought you could help me.”

“How?” Kara prodded, scanning the kitchen: the oven held four racks of baking tins, the dirty dishes were already churning away in the dishwasher, and there was a great, giant bowl of homemade buttercream sitting in front of Lena.

“Decorating,” Lena said cheerily. “But first, help me with this. It isn’t quite right; I think maybe too much lemon? Here:”

And then there was a finger.

A finger.

Extended.

Extended and dolloped with butter cream. 

A butter-creamed finger hovering expectantly and Kara wasn’t sure if it was her heart stopping or the world halting on its axis. Because time definitely froze. The warm smile on Lena’s face, the dimples marking her cheeks, the bright spark in her eyes sat in the periphery of Kara’s eyes which were fixed and frantic and hungry, staring hesitantly - obsessively - at the perfectly extended digit.

“T-try-? It?” 

“I need that discerning tongue of yours,” Lena said, and maybe if Kara wasn’t already struggling to overcome all of the thoughts flooding her brain, that comment might have sent her spiraling. Fortunately, that was already happening.

And maybe there was something mischievous glinting behind that sparkle in Lena’s eyes, but that was not something Kara had capacity to process because the finger was not moving.

And maybe subconsciously Kara licked her lips, but that was not something Kara had self-awareness for because the finger was not wavering.

And maybe that sent Lena’s eyebrow arching in a mix of curiosity and daring and her own unsated hunger, but that was not something Kara noticed because the finger was not backing down.

“No?” Lena asked, and her voice was low and caked in challenge. “Supergirl turning down a snack; I might have to-”

And whatever words Lena might have said were caught in a breathy gasp because Kara, automatic and unthinking, wrapped her lips around Lena’s outstretched finger and ran her tongue over the soft dollop of sugary goodness until nothing but the pad of Lena’s finger was left under it. And that’s when Kara registered the expression on Lena’s face and the dilated pupils that made her eyes glow dark and in stark contrast to the brightly lit kitchen.

And that was something Kara didn’t know what to do with. Because the tease didn’t feel so much like a tease anymore, and a line felt very close to being crossed and there certainly wasn’t a world where Lena Luthor would want Kara crossing that line because it wasn’t even a line Kara knew existed - even considered existed - until this moment and what even would it look like to cross that line? Soft and warm and heavenly and perfect and everything Lena Luthor already was but... more?

“Thoughts?” 

None. How could Kara possibly have any thoughts when her mouth was still processing lines and the light, sweet, lemon-zesty flavors and textures and feeling of Lena’s finger and then - then - Lena’s question coming dry and throaty and nothing like her retreating, glistening wet finger?

“Uh.” Gerbils were more articulate. Anything was more articulate. But Kara didn’t have spare bandwidth to weigh in on that. Instead she braced herself against the countertop and breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth.

“Nothing?” Lena asked - teased. 

“I-I just… I uhm…” Kara sputtered, her vision clouding and hands curling against the counter edge.

“Here, maybe you need another taste?”

And yea, Kara was absolutely going to be blamed for the giant crack that appeared in the countertop and blush furiously at the next game night and want to fly straight into the sun because “oh Rao.”

- - - - - - part 5 | could we? wood we?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Ooooh, I love this. It's a classic 1940 Art Deco home in Norman, Oklahoma. It has 2bd 1ba and is listed for $385K.

The home has been completely refurbished and is turnkey.

Look at how cute it is. Like how they made the duct over the sitting area look like an architectural feature.

Typically rounded Art Deco fireplace. I would probably repaint that. They fitted a bookshelf into the cubby that was probably for firewood.

The eat-in kitchen area could probably handle a larger table.

Love the green cabinetry, floor tile and backsplash. Is that a compact double door fridge under the counter?

Love the black modern farm sink and the compact dishwasher.

The master is an ample size.

The bath was beautifully redone.

Look at this, they made a little family room with a washer/dryer and and a full-size fridge. Very nice.

Plus, a great covered patio outside.

Whoever redid this house did a great job. A lot of thought and style went into it.

Could plant some nice flowers around this area.

It's a nice corner property.

[thestalkerbunny]

Being a dishwasher is the worst job in the kitchen, because your job desc amounts to "You know when the sink is clogged and you have to reach in and pull the plug? Imagine doing that for at least 8 hours a day".

Being a dishwasher is the best job in the kitchen, because you're always the one who gets all the preprepped food they didn't sell or don't want to go bad. I just got two trays of brownies and 1/3 of a ham.

Point of note; I was the dishwasher at the previous place I worked. IT wasn't my main job but it was something me and the other fellas got saddled with a lot.

The Following happened.

-manager handed me a thermos. Asked if I could wash it out. I opened it up and the smell nearly knocked me and 2 grown men on the floor, life had not started to grow there-it was THRIVING and considering space travel. Said he found it under his desk.

-Fished out a LOT of chicken wings from the drain. Like. whole pieces. not bones. a solid fucking piece of chicken.

-We had to scrape a lot of trays because that was like the most thing produced by the kitchen and there was a lot of AGGRESSIVE debate on what is the proper procedure on cleaning them to the point where one guy got SO pissed that he just slammed a bunch of them down a bunch of times and LEFT. I thought he quit on the spot but he was there-so any time HE was at work, I did not touch the dishes cause I was low key scared of him.

-Cleaning out the drain trap was always fun cause like....it was all the jokingly referred to snacks that managed to get through the drain. like again. Solid piece of chicken wing. I was never really bothered by it at all.

-Flooding. A LOT of flooding happened to the back area where the sinks were for some reason. The kitchen area was like...built by the lowest bidder and was too small to work and not enough sinks or space to dry shit before it went on shelves.

-There was times where raw dough was left on the trays they slammed back there and it was malleable so while cleaning I'd gather it up and make like this fat little dough guy to sit on the dirty dish counter to keep me company while I cleaned. I called it my 'dough hamster'. I reiterate-my coworkers, most which were grown ass men, thought that was absolutely disgusting.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 9

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 8 🍂 Part 10

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Are they finally getting it on? (Of course they aren't... Not really, anyway.) More fluff, more Sy, and definitely some more nudity this time...

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: And there we have it! @keanureevesisbae I hope you are happy, because you're getting part 9, 10 and 11 TODAY! I'm proofing and editing 10 as we speak. Again, this is all thanks to my girl who apparently is the Lucky Luke of writing. I thought I'd manage to catch up, but I already owe her 12 ❤️❤️❤️

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt

The barbecue was amazing, but tiring. Lots of Julie’s friends showed up, most of them with their partners – and some seriously delicious food – and the night had been filled with more introductions than you could count. Well, that and Sy’s and Patrick’s impeccable skills when it came to grilling. Jules wouldn’t be Jules if she hadn’t immediately made a joke about how ‘your men knew how to handle their meat’. When the night finally ended, you were mostly very happy with your new dishwasher. Julie, Patrick, Dean and Sy helped you clean up most of the mess that the large group had left.

“I’m headed off,” Dean said when you offered the four of them a last drink, “I’ve got work in the morning ‘cause these dirty bastards have taken the day off.” He gave Sy and Patrick a dirty look, which was cancelled out by the wide grin on his face. Jules and Patrick declined the drink shortly after Sy had already helped himself to another beer, saying they were visiting Patrick’s parents the next day, which was a long drive they had to get up early for.

“So keep it down if you get home, Sy,” Julie said before quickly ushering Patrick towards the door. She tried to not emphasize the word ‘if’ too hard, but ultimately wasn’t very successful. You shook your head as you put the last few things away and grabbed yourself a can of soda before joining Sy, who had made himself comfortable on your new couch.

“Thanks for today,” you said as you sat down next to him, “and all the other days, too.”

“More than welcome, Sugar,” he replied with a smile. The vibe was different between you; as if all the anticipation from the past weeks came flooding back and hit you in the face. Hard. The speed at which you drank your drinks increased with every second, until your soda can and Sy’s bottle hit the coffee table at the same time. You weren’t given any time to sit up; his hand was on your wrist as soon as you let go of the can, and you were in his arms the next second.

The first kiss was all lips. Gentle and soft, but at the same time passionate and yearning. Most importantly, there was no kitchen counter in your back threatening to give you spinal cord injury. The downside was that you couldn’t really appreciate the faint taste of beer on his lips, but that was something you could look past. His hands were on your back, unmoving but present, as his strong arms pulled you into his chest. He sighed when he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours. You lifted both your hands to his face.

“Sy? What’s on your mind?”

“You are,” he replied. Was it cheesy? Absolutely! But fuck, it was hot. You ran your hands over his hair. It was short, buzzcut short, and you chuckled. It felt funny. He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Your hair is soft,” you said with a shy giggle. He shook his head before leaning in for another kiss.

This one was different. Less gentle, but still kind. More demanding, but not in the unhinged way from a few weeks ago. That had been Dominant Man Unleashed TM; scary and unpredictable. This was controlled, stable, dependable – much like Sy himself. One of his hands reached for your thigh, pulling it over his legs so you were in his lap, straddling him. He took advantage of your startled gasp by sliding his tongue into your mouth and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck and letting out a moan. Strong, calloused hands moved over your back, your sides, thumbs tentatively brushing past the sides of your breasts, fingertips softly grazing the flesh of your ass. They were rough hands, acting kind. As strong and inquisitive as they were, their touch was surprisingly light and nimble. Fleeting, almost. He was everywhere, invading your senses, stirring your arousal until you were a squirming mess in his arms. Sy was all man. The kind of guy who – and leave it to Julie for coming up with these ridiculous descriptions – ‘could get you pregnant just by looking at you.’ And you were his and his alone. Already. When he had barely even touched you.

“Sy, I-“ Your voice trailed off, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“What, Sugar,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to your neck. Your head was spinning with all the different sensations; beard, lips, tongue, teeth – it was all there, and it was all good. So fucking good…

“I want more,” you whispered, “I want you.” Sy chuckled softly and brought his lips up to your ear.

“I’ll give you more, but I won’t give you everything,” he sighed, “not right now. Not like this.”

You looked at him, mad. Why the hell not?

"I want to make it special." He took your face in his hands and looked into your eyes.

"It'll be special because it's you, Sy." Were you actually whining? You were whining. And begging a man for sex – which he wouldn’t even agree to! None of this was good, none of it.

"That’s not good enough, Sugar." He pressed a chaste kiss on your mouth. Okay, that part was good.

"But-" Sy didn’t let you finish your sentence. Instead, he interrupted you with a growl.

"For the love of God, Sugar, would ya let me take proper care of my woman?" His woman. Feminism be damned, you liked the sound of that... Jules popped into your head with something she'd said last week: "Lara, you can be a feminist and a strong independent woman and still enjoy being spoiled by your man." You had promised her to remember that - and apparently you did...

You barely noticed that Sy lifted you off the couch and carried you to bed. It wouldn’t have been a problem for you to stay on the couch, but he had other plans – which you really didn’t mind, either. He was on top of you in no time, the weight of his body strangely comforting as he invaded your mouth with his tongue, fingers sneaking below the hem of your t-shirt, stroking your skin slowly as he kissed you. Shirts came off, and the clasp of your bra was no match for him. You ran your fingers through the coarse curls on his chest, down to the patch of hair on his stomach, then wrapped your arm around his waist, and let your fingers trail the hard muscle of his back. Sy moaned as he dipped his head below your jawline and let his lips travel down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind. Every spot his lips touched felt like a little bonfire on your skin. To your dismay – yes, dismay! – he lingered around your collarbone, trailing up and down your neck and shoulders while his hands hesitantly traveled your sides.

“Fuck’s sake, Sy,” you groaned – surprising yourself, honestly – as you grabbed his hand and pushed it towards your boob. You didn’t know how to describe the sound Sy made when his fingers easily squeezed the soft flesh, but it was the sound of a happy man. A sudden wave of insecurity crashed over you; what if they weren’t… if he thought they… maybe he liked…

“Goddamn, Sugar,” he grunted as he brushed a thumb past the pebbled flesh of your nipple. His next words were barely audible as he murmured them with his lips firmly attached to your skin, but you heard something along the lines of ‘fuckin’ perfect li’l titties.’ You felt heat gather in your cheeks – and between your legs, but that particular location was like a basement in a flood; soaked beyond redemption. No one had ever talked to you like that, and you weren’t quite sure if you liked it, but it certainly had an effect on you. You didn’t get much time to think: Sy’s mouth had set sail further south and when his lips wrapped around your nipple, your brain flatlined. No more thoughts, only the feeling of Sy’s warm, capable mouth on your chest, flicking his tongue over the sensitive buds on your breasts. His switching sides came with the lovely surprise of the cool air in the room hitting your wet skin, but soon a hand covered your boob, kneading away, providing more warmth. The other arm wormed its way underneath you, grabbing your ass and pulling your hips firmly against his, the added friction leaving both of you moaning. For the first time, your attention was drawn to the bulge that pressed into you every time Sy rocked his hips.

From here, however, he refused your every attempt at advancing. You tried pushing his hand down your body – he wouldn’t move. He stopped you when you fumbled with his belt… All in all, he made it clear that – at least tonight, this was all you were getting.

"Sy, why are you doing this to me?" You were officially, for lack of a more elegant description, fucking horny, in bed with the man of your dreams and both half naked. He was grinding his hips into you, giving off every flavor of signal that he wanted to fuck you, and he wanted to wait because it needed to be special? Sweet, but frustrating. Mostly frustrating. Fuck.

"Exactly how long do you plan on making me wait, Sy?"

"Sugar, I ain't made of steel," he laughed, "it won't be long, but is it really too much to ask that I at least won't be drunk?” Sy wasn’t drunk – not really, slightly buzzed, at most, yet you couldn’t deny there was something of a point to what he said. You weren’t really hell bent on a memorable first time – you had meant it when you said it would be special because it was Sy – but you didn’t want it to be a sloppy, alcohol-induced quickie, either. That left you with one concern, though; if you weren’t going to take this all the way… Was he going to leave? Because you didn’t want that, you wanted to fall asleep wrapped in his arms, and wake up the exact same way. Your objections must have been clear on your face, because Sy put a hand on your cheek and smiled at you.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice was barely a whisper when you managed to ask your question: “Are you going home?”

“Do you want me to go?” From the way he asked, you could tell he wanted an honest answer. You only hoped that from the way you answered, he could tell that it was.

“No, I want you to stay.”

He must have believed you, because you woke up the next morning with an arm wrapped around your waist, a hand casually resting on your boob – it was a little crazy to think that all of a sudden there was such a thing as ‘casually touching your boob’ – and what your limited experience suspected was some impressive morning wood pressing against your ass.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Fandom: Person of Interest, Careese Title: Not Alone

A/N: This takes place after the events of s1e19 Flesh and Blood. Carter can't seem to sit still after John safely returns Taylor to her, and she wants to see him.

Regardless of the fact that Elias sat behind bars and HR had slunk back into the woodwork, adrenaline kept Carter on edge hours after her work day ended. Taylor slept soundly, the full day of decompressing having worn him out, but she couldn’t help checking in on him every so often amidst straightening the couch cushions, loading the dishwasher, wiping down the already clean kitchen counters, folding the clothes she’d had to put on a de-wrinkle cycle, and pacing around the house like a trapped feral cat waiting for release. She couldn’t help it; her mind wouldn’t quiet.

She’d stood her ground, refusing to give up the dons for the life of her son. She felt the guilt and failure of that; how could she not? What kind of mother wouldn’t do anything, give up anything or anyone, for her child? But Elias had never acted impulsively, which she knew bought her some time. And more than that, she’d trusted John to get Taylor back. He’d confirmed her beliefs and strengthened her conviction of doing what was right by agreeing that she couldn’t let Elias have the dons and promising she wouldn’t have to make a decision—a non-decision, really—between the two. She hadn’t been alone, no matter what Elias thought. Despite her constant refusal to answer his calls, John had saved her life yet again, then swooped in and snatched her son out of the grasp of the most notorious crime boss in Manhattan. The man was a walking miracle, as far as it concerned her. 

She let the refrain bounce around her tired but wired brain: I’m not alone, I’m not alone. She knew now she couldn’t go it alone, even if she sometimes hated John’s methods. It was those very methods that had allowed her to hug her son this morning, had her still breathing fresh air. Her job was too dangerous, her son too precious, her life always on the line. And John had a knack for rescuing people, even helping her protect the dons they both knew deserved the chair for their heinous crimes, because, as much as he had to take lives at times, he valued them too, desperate to give people a second chance, to do what was right. The end justifying the means.

He’d saved her in more ways than one, giving her that bag full of weapons without her asking so she could better protect herself against Elias and HR. Brought her son to her, alive and unharmed—and him a new fan of the “badass” she worked with. The desperation in his voice as he’d promised to get Taylor back, the conviction in his tone, had wrapped her heart in both anguish and hope.

She suddenly felt frantic to see him. She’d missed him, she could admit to herself. She’d had good reason for her anger and frustration and ignoring his calls, but it hadn’t stopped her from wanting to talk to or help him.

I need to see you, she texted him before she changed her mind. It was a bad idea, she knew, inviting John over here when she felt this agitated and wired. But she couldn’t care at the moment. After everything they’d been through, she needed him near right now.

She continued cleaning and pacing and checking on Taylor, some of her frenetic energy finally wearing off, until, about twenty minutes later, a quiet knock sounded on her back door and relief flooded her. She nearly ran to open it and instantly stepped back as John barged in, almost running her over. 

“You and Taylor okay, Carter?” he asked tensely, eyes alert as he glanced around the quiet apartment behind her. 

When she didn’t answer, his gaze settled on her, and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck as he caught her in his embrace. He was solid and strong and knew the toll of what they’d just been through. More than that, she trusted him. With her life and that of her son. 

“Hey,” he murmured gently against her hair.

Her eyes closed tightly against the thoughts of how differently today could have turned out, and she held on to him instead, borrowed his strength, took the solace he offered. She could feel his breathing, slow and steady, the muscular wall of him a comfort she reveled in, one arm around her waist, the other around her back with a hand at her nape as he held her.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For saving me. For bringing Taylor back to me.”

“I’d give my life to protect you, Joss. You and Taylor.” His voice came softly, filled with promise and emotion, and the words reverberated through her like a siren song. She slowly pulled away to look at him, this guardian angel of hers, and the air shifted around them, full of tension and longing. It suddenly felt hard to breathe. 

She found him attractive, had since she’d peered up at him in that diner, but standing this close to him, smelling the faint scent of his cologne, seeing the question—and desire?—in his piercing gaze, feeling the strength of him as he held her, his biceps tensing under her hands, it all overwhelmed her. 

His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips, and she moved towards him again, slowly this time, rising up on tip toes to kiss him as he bent his head to meet her. His lips were still cool from the night air, but he set her aflame as his mouth moved with hers, not demanding or aggressive, but tentative and slow and so sensual it nearly drove her mad.

He was so opposite of her, his gentleness in stark contrast to the pent up agitation that had fueled her only moments ago, his rogue tendencies versus her need for by-the-book actions, his light coloring against her brown skin, his towering height and her average stature, his emotions held in check, hers often on her face. His slow and sultry kisses when she wanted to devour him.

She needed more, wanted more, and she slid her arms back around his neck as he cinched his arms around her waist, holding her more firmly against him and altogether differently this time. His tongue met hers, and she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her. 

As a man of few words, John’s responsive groan into her mouth spoke volumes, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine, and it ached a few moments later when he eased away from her.  The temperature in the room had increased—or maybe it was just her—but she felt a blush on her cheeks. 

“When I texted, I just wanted to...see you, to thank you,” she felt compelled to explain. “I didn’t intend…” She left the sentence hanging, unsure what else to say. She’d never imagined she’d end up kissing him. 

“There’s no payment required, Joss,” he assured her in that slow, controlled, teasing manner of his, his face a mask once again.

How did he remain so unaffected while an inferno raged within her? He was offering her an exit, a way to simply blame this indiscretion on the emotions of the day, but it was so much more than that. All they’d dealt with the past 24 hours acted as the catalyst, but this pull between them had started from the moment they met and she’d seen something more beneath the grubby exterior of a homeless man. He hid behind a different costume now, albeit a much more charismatic one, but her fascination with him had only grown. She needed him to know it. 

She stared at him intently, refusing to take the out or look away from him. “That’s not what this is, John,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Not for me.”

He peered at her for a few moments without saying anything, and she saw him swallow hard, sensing an internal war behind those beguiling eyes. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. What the hell had gotten into her, upsetting the delicate balance they’d only just reestablished? 

Suddenly, his expression softened, and he brushed her hair back over one shoulder before cupping her cheek. He kissed her gently, lingering just enough to tease her into wanting more before he pulled away.

“If I’d have known you’d kiss me for saving your life, I could’ve come over the first time,” he quipped.

She tried not to smile, his sardonic humor chasing her apprehension away. “I’d have arrested you back then.”

His eyebrows rose, and he gave her a small, flirty smile.

She huffed a laugh. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he stated in mock defense.

“Why would you, when there’s so many better things you can do with your mouth?” 

“You’re so right, Detective,” he drawled, an amused glint in his eyes. And he started them by kissing her again.

Also on Ao3 here

[undeadorion]

Random terrible roommate story time!

If you didn't follow me on my other blog, I went through a long string of awful roommates for a few years, and I'm randomly reminded of the bullshit I had to go through.

The main one was someone I lived with for several years. I usually refer to her as the one who microwaved a salad (she wanted to melt the cheese and was disappointed the lettuce wilted).

Well, one day she started the dishwasher and within minutes the kitchen was just flooded with suds. My partner and I scrambled to stop the flow and were stuck cleaning for hours, because it just kept pouring out. We couldn't figure out what the hell had happened, just that the roommate had been the one to start it. At one point she stood in the doorway of the kitchen just watching us frantically scoop suds into the sink and buckets. She refused to help or tell us what she did. She just said she ran the dishwasher.

One thing that struck me was the scent. It was super flowery, and not anything I recognized. So it wasn't regular dish soap, and it definitely wasn't dishwasher soap. We checked everything in the kitchen that could have possibly been used, and nothing came close. We were absolutely stumped.

Then I few days later, I found a jug of hand soap under the bathroom counter that belonged to the roommate. And the scent was exactly what was in the dishwasher. So when she she'd seen we were out of dishwasher soap, she went into the bathroom and poured in a large amount of extremely sudsy hand soap. Then just watched us clean it up. That's the behavior I'd expect from my nephew and he just turned 7.

[whumpinggrounds]

Things Lost

Previous

CW: BBU general warning, verrrry vague references to noncon, slapping, pet whump, self-loathing

As soon as Ann wakes, she knows she’s in trouble. She silences her alarm clock and climbs out of bed, ignoring the aches that come with every movement. She brushes her hair, smooths it back into a braid. She cleans her teeth and washes her face. She does it all without looking at herself in the mirror. Ann has gotten good at that, not looking herself in the mirror.

As she gets ready, Ann pretends she isn’t worry. She pretends she isn’t afraid that there’s some kind of terrible evidence staining her skin, her being. A furtive glance in the mirror proves she’s wrong, but there’s more than one way to be revealed. Now, in the morning darkness of her little closet room, is what an old voice in Ann’s head calls the moment of truth. She clears her throat, and winces at the scratching feeling. “H-hello, Mistress.”

The words are hoarse, and straightaway, blood floods Ann’s face. She sounds like a smoker with a pack a day habit. No accompanying sniffle, no heat in her brow, nothing to excuse her. Just a sore throat and a ruined voice.

Ann dips her head and tries to breathe deeply, calmly, ignoring the rasp caught behind her tongue. If she thinks about it, she’ll cry, and she absolutely cannot cry this early in the morning.

As she begins the day’s duties, Ann sips water at every possible opportunity. She’s drained two glasses by the time the rest of the house begins to wake, and it’s still not enough to calm the scratch in her throat. She’ll stay silent, is what she’ll do. She’ll stay silent, and she’ll keep her head down, and she’ll move through the house so quick and quiet that Mistress Colette won’t remember she exists, far less try to speak to her.

It works for a while. When Mistress Colette and Master Gordon emerge from their room, their breakfast is sitting out, ready, in the breakfast nook. Ann always avoids them then, so her absence this morning is nothing unusual. Ann thanks the gods of small mercies for that.

After Master Gordon leaves for work, though, it’s another story.

Ann avoids the breakfast nook as long as she can, but before too long, she hears Mistress Colette’s high, impatient voice. “Ann? Ann, are you planning on clearing the dishes?”

Usually, Ann would apologize, but this time, she settles for a nod and a frightened look. It’s enough for Mistress Colette, who is occupying herself with the newspaper and a dry piece of toast. With deft hands, Ann clears the table, and there isn’t so much as the rattle of a fork to annoy her mistress. She loads the dishwasher and wipes the counters with the same exquisite care. She escapes into the sitting room to tidy, and she has one short, blessed moment of relief.

Then she hears her mistress’s voice, shrill as it always is with irritation.

“Ann! Ann, I need my tea before I go to tennis.”

Wincing, Ann returns to the kitchen. Of course, Mistress Colette needs tea. It’s Tuesday, which means tennis, which means if Ann can just get through the next thirty-five minutes, she’ll be safe until the afternoon. As Mistress Colette flounces out of the room to put on her white elastic skirt, Ann boils water on the stove, plucks a bag from the row in the cupboard. By the time Mistress Colette emerges from her room, looked starched and stiff in tennis whites, Ann has the cup set out for her, tea brewed to perfect darkness inside the white cup on its white saucer.

Ann waits, with bated breath, for approval.

Mistress Colette takes one sip and frowns. “Ann, what blend is this?”

She doesn’t sound irritated, not yet. But this isn’t a question Ann can avoid. Heart fluttering in her chest, Ann clears her throat to answer. “English breakfast, ma’am.”

Her voice seems to echo around the sterile blankness of the kitchen. Mistress Colette stiffens. Her fingers tighten on the handle of her teacup. The rasp in Ann’s voice is humiliatingly loud, so loud that Ann imagines it’s the only thing anyone can hear, echoing through the house, emanating out into the street, announcing her shame to the entire world.

The teacup hits the saucer with an all-too-loud click.

“Are you ill, Ann?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Have you been shouting recently?”

“No, ma’am.”

The roughness seems to grow worse with every question, until it sounds like Ann’s throat is tearing the syllables in two.

With one terrifying fast movement, Mistress Colette smacks the saucer and teacup off the table, sending them smashing into the cupboards against the wall. Ann jumps, pressing back as hard as she can into the marble counter at her hips. She watches, eyes wide, as Mistress Colette bears down on her, towering rage evident on her face.

“Then how did you lose your voice?”

Ann’s mouth works, but no words come out. Her throat jumps, but there’s no sound. Her heart is racing in her ears. When Mistress Colette slaps her across the face, the pain registers imperfectly, parts of her skin lighting up with pinpricks while the rest of her remains numb.

“Well?” Her mistress demands.

“I…I…I…”

Another slap, hard enough to turn Ann’s head to the side. “You’re disgusting, is what you are,” snarls Mistress Colette. Ann nods, and she is not only pretending to agree.

[pinellasdreamhomes]

Location, location, location! ... Gated community, low HOA fees, magnificent upgraded Lake Tarpon Waterfront Townhome on the WATERFRONT of Tarpon Lakes Preserve showcasing conservation views on both sides. Enjoy breathtaking views across Lake Tarpon waterway to the Preserve. Watch for deer and other wildlife! With water access in your own backyard, you can dock your boat for free behind your home on the water. The front and back of the home have a scenic conservation view for your own serene and tranquil private oasis. This amazing 3633 SF home features: 4 huge bedrooms, 2.5 baths, 2 car oversized garage with work area & storage & newer garage door & opener. In addition you have room for at least four cars parked tandem in the driveway. Do you love entertaining? The attractive entry foyer area leads to the separate formal dining room area enhanced by decorative columns and even plenty of room to store your bottles of wine in your very own cooled wine cellar. The large spacious eat in Chef's kitchen features wood cabinets, granite counter tops, vaulted high ceilings, with 2 breakfast bars. An open floor plan leads into a massive living room with a wood burning fireplace. Then step up the staircase to the second floor. The primary bedroom and bath suite is the entire second floor with an enormous bathroom and fireplace. The huge primary bedroom has a wood burning fireplace, balcony with water view, inside laundry room and two walk in closets. The primary bath adjoins with a garden view tub, a walk in shower, double separate vanities, commode, a bidet, and storage areas galore. The third floor offers 3 split plan bedrooms. Bedroom #2 offers 2 large closets and a serene water view. Bedroom #3 has ample storage space. There is even a wet bar in the extremely large bedroom #4 which is currently being used as a media room. Continue your tour back down to the living room… but don’t get too comfy in the living room as you travel through the French doors leading to the covered enclosed patio with travertine pavers showcasing the panoramic waterfront. Wow!!, The waterfront view is of Lake Tarpon Preserve with beautiful views and greenery! You will see neighbors’ boats parked at their homes and cruising the waterway. Relax on your perfectly manicured green lawn and sip your favorite beverage. There are so many extras that are included in this custom home to mention. There is the convenience of a half bath near the entry. A Samsung bundle of smart technology appliances connected to wifi allows control from your phone for the refrigerator, dishwasher, washer and dryer. The owners replaced the carpeted areas with lifetime warranty vinyl plank flooring. Flood insurance is not required. The community is meticulously maintained by the Master HOA Boot Ranch North Assn with quarterly dues and the Eagles Reserve HOA with monthly dues which are both very reasonable for services offered. There is a community pool, tennis courts, security gated community of Boot Ranch North which is in the highly sought after Palm Harbor area, close to shopping, dining and recreation. Ruth Eckerd Hall and John Chestnut Park is nearby … great for nature trail walks, and boat ramp access as well as playgrounds and picnic pavilions. HOA is responsible for turf pest control, roof, exterior paint, trash pickup, and landscape maintenance! A quick drive to nearby Dunedin, Safety Harbor, Tarpon Springs, Honeymoon Island beach, parks, more beaches and many areas of interest.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

‘Please let me start the rumour,’ Badger whispered, leaning close to Collie’s ear. She’d stiffened instinctively at the proximity, but didn’t pull away.

‘I’m pretty sure you’ve missed the boat on that one,’ she countered, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

From their spot on a rickety old bench in some glade of the forest Atlas had cleared, they had a clear view of Fox and Lion. He was perched on a tree stump, yet still seemed to have a few centimetres of height on her. The fact his jacket swamped her, the hem practically reaching her knees and the arms flapping wildly as she gesticulated, did nothing to help matters.

‘I was gonna say long lost cousins,’ Badger pouted petulantly. ‘What were you talking about?’

Collie made a disbelieving noise before turning her attention back to him. There was an intensity about her look that always made him squirm. He loved it.

‘You’re almost as bad as Pigeon,’ she chastised.

Badger scoffed. ‘Nobody’s that bad.’

‘They’re just each other’s person.’

‘Ya do know –?’

‘If you remind me about his crush one more time, I’m puttin’ you on dishwasher duty for a month.’

Badger smirked at her. ‘Oh it is so almost worth it.’

‘With Swift.’

‘Ouch,’ Badger complained, a hand flying to rest over his heart. ‘Ya wound me.’

The smug little smirk that pulled on Collie’s lips almost made the threat bearable.

But Badger pulled his gaze away from her and back to the others.

‘D’ya reckon Lion’d even get an arm into one of Fox’s jackets?’

Collie’s scoff startled several birds from the trees. Lion was standing in an instant, and Fox’s attention was on them; panic and resolve both seemed obvious on her expression.

‘Sorry,’ Collie grumbled, colour flooding up her face as she jabbed an elbow into Badger ribs.

‘Ya know how it is,’ he joked, grinning as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

‘Perhaps we should save her,’ Fox noted, already moving towards them.

It took a moment for the tension to ebb out of Lion’s shoulders, before he finally followed. ‘Not sure Collie actually needs saving, or if Badger will.’

‘Thanks, bro,’ Badger complained, forcing back the smirk he felt tugging at his lips.