#cw: age gap

[fuctacles]

i was gonna cut it in half, but you get 2k for Valentine's Day <3

<< thirteen | 😺 | fifteen >>

Eddie asks Wayne where is a good place to make key copies, and drafts a plan. He'll go to Steph's salon, pick up her keys, make a copy for her, and drop them back before she leaves work. Just a tiny good deed from a friendly neighbour, so she doesn't have to juggle her one set between cat feeders and whatnot. 

Except Wayne sees through him immediately and throws a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm.

"While I fully support whatever you two are doing..." He promptly raises his hand so Eddie would spare him any of the explanations brewing behind his lips. "I think this would be a little too much."

"How?" Eddie frowns, confused.

"Well, a bachelor she has just met is asking for her keys to make copies. It's a little too much too fast, don't you think?"

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns.

"Maybe?"

"How would you feel if a new friend thought they know better how many keys you should own?" Wayne raises his eyebrows. "And took it upon themself to do it for you?"

"Okay, fine, I hear you!" Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. 

Wayne sips on his coffee, now calm enough that his nephew won't do something too stupid. 

"With that said, I too think it's silly to not have a spare."

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs, drumming his fingers against his cup. "So what do I do?"

"Buy her flowers, ever heard of it?" Wayne raises his eyebrow. 

Eddie twists his mouth, unconvinced with the idea. 

"I don't know, it sounds pretty forward..."

Wayne almost snorts his coffee out of his nose.

Eddie follows the blanket permission he got the last day and walks up to Steph's apartment around the same time. Since he felt that bringing her flowers would be too much, he settled on cookies from his favorite bakery. They could share them with coffee or tea, and it wouldn't be too weird. 

It's just...

He really hopes they could actually talk.

When he opens the doors labeled 54, he's hit with the smell of spices. Steph leans through the kitchen door to greet him.

"Hi! I'm making fried rice, do you want some?"

Eddie nods, curbing the desire to come over and kiss her.

"Yeah, it smells good." He steps into the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter. "Can I help with something?"

Steph keeps stirring for a second, before she points to one of the cupboards.

"Take out two bowls, please?" she asks.

Eddie's been in the apartment all alone, and he's looked through Steph's stuff to some extent. Opening cupboards while she's cooking shouldn't feel as thrilling as it does. 

When she finishes the food, he grabs beers for the two of them, and they move to the the living room again, a movie already waiting to be played.

"Is Willow okay?" she asks, hovering over the play button, and Eddie's eyes couldn't go any wider. Only one lamp is left on in the room, and the TV is illuminating Steph like an angel offering him the finest pleasures in life. 

"Is the sky blue?" he shoots back. "It's one of my favorites." 

She smiles, all self satisfied and wide, like she already knew he'll love the movie. 

Eddie tilts his head, eyeing her suspiciously. 

"Did Wayne tell you?"

Steph shakes her head 'no'. 

"It was a lucky guess," she admits coyly. 

Oh, to be known like that by another human. Have someone with enough intimate knowledge of him to guess his thoughts, pick out things they know he'll like. She knows he'll like. 

Eddie does like the movie, but he wishes it was something boring so they could talk. Of course, he's also enjoying having Steph pressed against his shoulder, and the movie is a great excuse to just be in her presence, without the responsible adult communication thing. 

It's when she gets up asking if he wants another beer, when he realizes he's been too engrossed in the movie. 

"Uh, I'm not even halfway," he says, moving the bottle in his hand. 

"But are you gonna drink more?"

"Probably," he shrugs. 

She brings back another four beers, and as this time he's paying attention, he notices she's already drunk a fair amount of the one she's holding.

"Everything okay?" he asks gently. He doesn't remember Steph drinking this fast, or this much, during their previous hang-outs. And it's a weekday, too.

"Mhm, yep." She plops down next to him heavily, but even the weight of her body against him doesn't soothe his nerves. On the contrary. It's easy to tell she's already tipsy, and she's planning to have at least two more beers, including the one in her hand. 

"Not to be a buzzkill, you know..." Eddie licks his lips nervously. "But you're drinking more than usual."

She makes an amused sound, deep in her throat.

"Tell that to my high school self."

"Well, I'm telling it to my adult friend Stephanie, I don't know that other one."

Steph huffs, staring at the screen.

"Good."

At loss of what else to say, he leans back against the couch, hoping the press of their shoulders will bring her some comfort his words apparently can't. He's turning to the TV, when she speaks up.

"I have something to tell you."

Eddie's eyes immediately go back to her, but she's staring ahead. 

"Yeah?" he prompts.

"After the movie."

He's confused and worried, but since she wants him to stay, it can't be anything bad, right?

"Okay," he says, feeling anything but. All the possible confessions are going through his mind, movie forgotten. The only things he's aware of are Steph's movements when she brings up the bottle to her lips, and her muscles flex against his arm, and his own racing thoughts. 

She's going to tell him she's a lesbian just like Robin. Maybe they're secretly a long distance couple, or she has a thing with Joyce. Or she has a man in another state. A secret family, a husband? What if she has a kid? Eddie would make a good step-dad, but he wasn't planning for that any time soon. Or maybe it's way simpler than that, and she'll finally tell him to stop, that she's not interested, never was. That Eddie, a metal musician still in college, isn't worth it. 

"I wasn't born a woman."

The credits are rolling on the screen, letters forming Eddie's miserable scenarios, and he's so focused on them he barely hears Steph's words. But finally, he turns his head towards her. She's slumped next to him, picking on the label of her empty beer bottle. He's so relieved he doesn't understand what's going on.

"I know." Not his best reaction but he can't believe she's been worried about it all this time, drinking just to tell him something he's already figured out.

Steph frowns, before turning to him with glassy eyes. 

"You know?"

He points to the collage on her wall.

"You have your old photos right there?"

She stares at the display like she's seeing it for the first time in her life. Her eyes widen with the realization and she makes a sound between a snort and a groan, head falling back. 

"Of course I fucking do."

Eddie drums his fingers against his beer bottle. He still has a couple of swings left. 

"Is that what you were so worried about?"

"Of course!" She throws out her hands angrily, startling him. "It's always 'do you not want me, Steph?' and then 'ew, you have a what?' or 'i always wanted to fuck someone like that' and honestly? At this point I don't know which one is worse. So yes, I was fucking worried!" 

Steph stands up angrily, swaying a little, but she quickly catches her balance. She starts gathering the empty bottles and Eddie rushes to help before she drops any and makes a mess, but she gathers them petulantly in her arms. 

"You can go, I got this," she says dismissively. 

"I want to help," he protests, hands held out uselessly. Steph marches to the kitchen, all the bottles pressed close to her chest. Eddie quickly follows, but she safely deposits them all in the sink and stares at them, expression hidden by her hair. 

"Stop sucking up to me. I'm not something to be scratched off a bucket list."

"What?" Eddie frowns. 

Steph finally turns towards him, and now he wishes she didn't. Her eyes are sad and angry and he doesn't like them directed at him like that. 

"Is that why you kissed me? Because you knew?"

'I always wanted to fuck someone like that.'

"No. No," he protests firmly. "I liked you before that, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you sure?" she scoffs. "You might change your mind when I get undressed."

"I highly doubt that." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I've told you I'm not deterred by d—" His eyes widen momentarily, the word lodging in his throat, but Steph only rolls her eyes with annoyance. 

"You can say 'dick'. I have a dick. I am a woman with a dick."

That's a lot of dicks for just a few words. And Eddie is trying to prove that he's into them but not in a weird way. Which is difficult when you're rarely normal about anything. 

"Yeah, that, and I've had close encounters with those, though never on a woman before," he admits. "I would operate whatever genitals you have because they're yours, not because I'm hoping they're a certain way. I don't care. Well, I care because they're yours, but if you told me I can never touch or look, that's okay." Though what a travesty that would be. What about all the orgasms he promised her in his head? But she still has a prostate, right? He probably could—

"Say it," Steph interrupts his futuristic plans.

"Huh?"

"Say I have a dick." She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. 

Eddie inhales deeply. 

"You have a dick. It doesn't matter to me either way. You could have a pussy, a dick, or a cacti, and I would accommodate. Though we probably would have to get rid of the thorns on the last one. Or get me some protective gear."

She lets out a startled snort.

"Yeah, sure. We'll see about that."

It sounds like a challenge, and while Eddie might hate sports, he loves games. If it's up his alley, he can get competitive easily, and this one promises great treasures, if he wins. 

If only he knew the rules. 

"Tomorrow, same time. Wear something comfortable."

Eddie's eyes widen.

"For what?" His voice comes out higher than he'd like, but his mind quickly resurfaces from the gutter it found itself in, and he frowns, suddenly suspicious. "Will you make me exercise?"

Her features soften, and a playful smirk pulls on her lips. 

"You'll see."

Her smile is a good sign, even if it's at his expense, so he decides not to push his luck anymore and end the night here. 

"Well, I'm gonna..." He awkwardly motions to the door, hesitating. 

Steph is leaning against the bar counter, watching him knowingly. 

"You can get a goodnight kiss tonight," she says, resting her cheek against her palm. "Or get more tomorrow."

Eddie wonders, if the game has already started. He puts his quick Dungeon Master wits to work, and figures with how far he's come, he gets advantage on the Charisma check. 

"I could live off of goodnight kisses for forever," he says. "There's no need for anything more."

He almost feels bad at how fast her resolve crumbles, giving place to fiery red flush. 

"Fucking charmer," she scoffs almost angrily, before rounding the counter towards him. The energy coming off of her makes him take a step back, and he hits the front door. Steph's nails scratch the wooden surface right next to his ear. She tilts her head. 

"You're gonna put your money where your mouth is?" 

Eddie's been trying to get better at that, sometimes to his own demise—staying true to his words, keeping promises. So he reaches for her neck and pulls her in.

It's more like their first kiss than the last one. It's hungrier, the knowledge that they both want more seeping into their muscles, grasping at clothes, pulling and pushing. Eddie groans into Steph's hot mouth, happy to be pressed between her soft, strong body, and the cold door. She pushes even closer, gathering the sound with her tongue and claiming it for herself. 

They pull apart with a wet smack, and Steph laughs breathily at the dopey smile she finds directed at her. She pats Eddie's cheek affectionately and untangles herself from his grasp. The door clicks when she twists the lock, and it seems to bring Eddie back from his daze. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," she says pointedly. 

He blinks at her, before his soft smile comes back, and he reaches up again to place one last kiss on her lips. 

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow," he smiles, before slipping outside the door. 

Steph is terrible person, and also more smitten with this boy than she'd want to admit, so she looks through the peephole at the dimly lit corridor. She hopes Eddie can't hear her chuckle at the silly dance he does while walking away from her door.

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16

help me with rent

[soleilapproves]

John Price never really understood your humor. But it was the same for most older people. Especially when it came to someone as detached from the internet as John. It was a good thing your boyfriend had you to keep him updated with whatever new ridiculous term or phrase was popular.

“I can’t hang out today–nature’s punishing me for not being pregnant.”

It started as a fleeting joke. Something you and your friends always said whenever it was that time of the month. It had been ingrained into your entire group’s vocabulary after years of use. Now, it was just a casual way of saying, ‘hey, I got my period.’

It was odd to him at first. Why would the trees care if you’re not pregnant? he asked with a confused face, prompting you to giggle and kiss his bearded cheek. Fifteen minutes later, the man was enlightened on why you were blaming nature–Mother Nature to be more specific. You expected him to forget about it afterwards (like he did with most slang), but what you didn’t expect was for him to take it seriously. Not in the way you thought at least.

You were expecting more care from him–tip-toeing when you were sleeping, not cooking meat while you felt nauseous, and buying ample sweets and unhealthy snacks for you to munch on while crying over silly romcoms.

But instead, you received more sensual touches and lingering stares at your lower abdomen. You’d often have to push him away from your sore and tender breasts. “You wouldn’t be so uncomfortable if you were pregnant, you know,” he’d often joke, making you choke or spit out whatever was in your mouth. He’d massage your back and take small breaks to palm himself as he imagined you requesting a massage because your belly had been feeling too heavy lately.

It was all too much. Too surprising. The two of you had never spoken about children, yet you felt like you had unlocked a different side of him. A side that was hidden away for your safety because now, the man was convinced that you needed to be with his child to satisfy Mother Nature.

“I don’t think we should disrespect Mother Nature like that. Don’t you agree, love?” he mumbled into your ear as he parted your legs with his big, rough hands. “I don’t wanna see you in pain. You’ve been punished enough.” He kisses your neck with fervent need–a deep and dark desire to fill you with his seed. You sluggishly try to push his shoulder to get him to stop leaning over you. “John–”

But the man’s strength prevents him from budging an inch. “Shh, none of that. You’ll take everything I give you,” he says as his cock nudges your entrance.

[degenerata69]

Yet again, with another Stancest prompt for y'all. This time, with some age gap.

So Mullet Stanley and Paranoid Ford are fighting, and Stanley falls into the portal, but instead of going to another dimension, he goes back in time to New Jersey, three months after being kicked out.

The first thing he wants to do is to look for himself, so he finds El Diablo in the parking lot he used to stay in, but there is no one, so he figures that they exchanged places. He hopes that Ford will bring him back soon, but he starts debating if he should talk to Ford from this dimension. He was the one who built the portal, so he should know something and maybe give him some bandages from the scar him from the future gave him.

Meanwhile, Paranoid Ford is having a panic attack, feeling guilty that he burned his brother's flesh and made him fall into the portal. He tries to turn it on and sees a silhouette that is coming out. But it is not his Stanley. Rather, a young but neglected one. One who he abandoned 10 years ago.

He was drunk off his ass and any attempts to talk to him were useless. Once young Stanley realized it was Stanford, he just rambled even more. Talking about how he was about to suck someone off in exchange for some gas money. Hearing the confession made him forget about the anomalies, Bill, the destruction of the universe, and anything resembling fear, rather changing to anger.

He questioned Stanley about it, how long he had been doing it, and why he wanted to do it. The younger twin just answered it would have been the first time if he got to the man to the bathroom instead of the future, and he'd figure that the only meaningful skill he had was to suck his brother off so might as well make it a profit.

"Well, if you want to perform oral sex for the sake of shelter, might as well do it with this twenty-something-year-old scientist," that statement made young Stanley grin, clumsily unbuttoning Ford's pants. He wasn't sure if it was his brother, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be loved.

Well, that's part one, I'll work on the rest of the prompt when I get home.

IDK if this is implied, but given my busy schedule, most likely, I won't be able to turn all my prompts into actual fanfics. So, if you want to use these prompts, you are more than welcome to do so, I only ask for credits as inspiration 😁.

[gamesetart]

has anyone seen that old movie the crush? im thinking of something similar rn with patrick... (without all the going crazy and manipulation and the underage stuff)

your parents have a big house. a gorgeous country home, complete with a stable, for you horses, a back garden with a pool and a tennis court, and, of course, a guest house. a spacious little one-bedroom located literally within spitting distance from the main home.

and you - home for the summer, sophomore in college, headstrong, pretty, interesting, a sports medicine major - you were supposed to move in there. it's embarassing to be your age (a precocious twenty) and still living in your childhood bedroom, for godssake! but, at the last minute, your father tells you you can't. which is absurd: you've never been told 'no' in your life, why on earth should he start now?

well, after two weeks of complaining, whining, begging, bargaining, and straight-up threats, your answer arrives. arrives in the form of a single black suitcase and one heavy sports bag. arrives in the form of a tired, scraggly looking man parking his fucked-up car in your gorgeous gravel driveway, right next to your perfect, pristine white vintage mustang. it's insulting.

your guest house is occupied. by son of family friends, sort-of professional tennis player, patrick zweig. you hate him instantly. hate that because of him, you're confined to your stupid childhood bedroom, with your stupid baby-pink walls your mom won't let you change, your canopy bed with the gauzey curtains. you hate that your parents invite him in all the time. you hate that he drinks your coffee and eats your food. you hate that he found your contraband stash of cigarettes and weed, and you hate that you know he stole some, because you counted, and that you can't confront him about it in case he tells your parents.

and you hate how he's hot. hate that he plays tennis on your court, damp curls sticking to his face, sweat running down his tanned, toned arms, stupid shorts clinging to his thick, hairy thighs... you hate that he swims in your pool in nothing but his underwear. you hate that he has these bright blue eyes, almost green in certain lights, the pupils ringed with a hazelish, almost golden halo. and you despise how those eyes look at you, like he's going to fucking eat you.

not like he doesn't hate you, too. he hates how you parade around like you own the world. he hates how you are: too smart for your own good, too aware of it for everyone else's. he hates how you've obviously never been told no until the guest house. he hates that you're a know-it-all brat.

and he hates you (and himself, a little, but mostly you) for being so damn attractive. he hates that he'll come home, from a run, or a bad date, or something, and find you in a clean white tennis set - ralph lauren, or lacoste, or some other bougie brand mean less for atheltics and more for style - lazily serving to no one. he hates that you'll read by the pool, austen and shakespeare and poe, in your little bikinis, sucking on a lollipop, or, if your parents aren't home, smoking a cigarette. he hates when you get dressed up because your parents are throwing yet another party, hates you in your babydoll dresses and your sweet skirts and your sweetheart necklines.

like you don't know what you're doing to him.

the funny thing is, both of you are smart enough to see that the other is physically attracted to you, but you're both too proud to admit it goes both ways. so you strut around in tiny tennis skirts and bikinis. he swims in his underwear and comes in in nothing but a towel to steal from your fridge. waiting for the other to break, to snap, to trip up and fall. if patrick breaks first, you get to laugh and call him a dirty old perv for going after you - he's like, a decade older than you, for christssake! - and if you break first, patrick gets to bully you open on his cock, make you cry, finally bring you down a peg.

just a matter of time.

[ofmermaidstories]

speaking of old men, i have a age gap bakugou x reader idea up my sleeve that im never going to write bc it makes me too sad LMAOOOO. but sometimes i think about bakugou being grumpy and old…. having to contend with the reality that he is being replaced………… bakugou i love u in any form.

[slimypaws]

Twilight x Celestia. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER, YOUR HONOUR.

[sp00nful0fsuga]

FeatherCrow i love you

[perelka-l]

Drayton doodles uwu mostly shippy lol

[fuctacles]

<< six | 😺 | eight >>

"Yes? Hello, officer? There's a man in my apartment." 

Eddie stirs awake, his surroundings coming back to him in hazy waves.

"What?" he slurs out, blinking to clear his vision.

"Oh, I was just telling the officer that I've found a man sleeping on my couch," Stephanie says with a troubled expression, hovering over him.

Over the couch that he fell asleep on.

He sits up so suddenly he loses his balance and falls back against the cushion.

"I'm so sorry, please don't call the cops—!"

Stephanie immediately shakes her hands, which are free of a phone.

"I was joking, I was joking!" she reassures him quickly. "I'm sorry." She smiles apologetically, taking a seat next to him. "I guess that wasn't the best way to wake up someone." 

"No," Eddie chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Especially not an ex-drug dealer," he huffs dryly. 

Steph cocks her head with a surprised "huh" and only then does Eddie realize what he has just blurted out. 

"Ah, shit. Am I ruining my good neighbor status?" he winces.

"Not at all," Steph shakes her head, and gently pats his knee. He zeroes his focus on her hand when she decides to rest it there on his jean-clad leg. 

"I know my nice neighbor Eddie, not the drug dealer one," she smiles reassuringly. "What made you turn around? If you don't mind me asking," she squeezes his knee and retrieves her hand to lean back more comfortably on the couch. One of her cats, Garfield, jumps on her lap for a greeting, and Eddie realizes she's still wearing her jacket. He looks at the clock on the wall and realizes it's almost midnight. 

"Sorry, I'm holding you back, you're clearly tired," she backtracks quickly, watching his eyes dart around. But Eddie shakes his head.

"Nah, I just took an invigorating nap." She laughs at that and he can't help but smile as well. "I'd assume you're tired after traveling."

"I took an invigorating nap on the bus," she smiles, petting her cat. Arwen finally decides she's not above greeting her human and jumps in next to her as well, occupying Stephanie's other hand. 

Eddie reminds himself not to get jealous of felines.

"I managed to graduate," he says and when Steph looks at him in confusion, he adds: "I dealt in high school to save money for my band, thought that was my only route. But then I did graduate, on my third try, and the art teacher pulled some strings, asked around, and told me I could go study music. The guys forced me to go for it," he smiles at the memory. "My band, I mean. They said at least one of us should know some theory," he chuckles. 

"That's very nice of them," Stephanie comments. 

"Yeah. The bastards followed me after high school too." He grins. 

"And I still haven't heard your music," she sighs wistfully. 

"I'll bring a tape next time," he promises. 

"You better."

They sit in silence for a while, only the cat's purring filling the night ambiance. 

"Want some tea?"

"I guess I should go."

They speak over each other, eyes wide when they meet awkwardly. They chuckle, and Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.

"Or I can get us a beer? Since you're not an old lady," she offers, spotting the empty bottle on the table. "Unless you really need to go."

"Beer sounds good. Considering there are no old ladies here," he smiles charmingly, daring her to protest. 

Steph doesn't say anything, only rolls her eyes and gently nudges Garfield from her lap onto the couch cushions. She scratches Eddie's head when she passes, thankfully missing the way it causes his whole body to shiver. 

"Won't your uncle be worried where you are?" she asks from the kitchen, giving Eddie the space he needs to collect himself. 

"I told him I'd wait for you," he answers, scratching Garfield and trying to forget how good it felt when done to him. "Also, I don't have a curfew anymore. Never had, in fact. Not with Wayne."

"Lucky you." She steps back into the room, handing him a chilled bottle. "How long have you been living with him?"

"Since high school," he answers before taking a swig. "Spent a short time in a halfway house before that. My parents couldn't handle me anymore, but they managed to reach my uncle and he took me in."

"The hell do you mean 'couldn't handle you'?" Steph asks with a frown.

Eddie chuckles at her immediate offense.

"They got into legal trouble, and couldn't afford the house anymore, I think my dad spent some time in prison too. Tax fraud and shit, never cared enough to dig into it and Wayne doesn't like talking about them either. He's a better parent they'd ever be anyway."

"Yeah," Steph softens. "I'd love to have had someone like him back in the day." Then, she deflates with a sigh. "Though even the nicest people can turn out to be bigots. Not Wayne, of course!" she rushes to add. "He knows about Robin and he's really cool about it." 

Eddie sees his opening and feels comfortable enough to use it finally. 

"He better be, since his nephew is bisexual," he says with a little huff. 

"He is?" Steph picks up curiously. 

"Yeah," Eddie scratches his cheek, suddenly sheepish. "Turned out I wasn't watching Indiana Jones for the plot."

"I think that sweaty chest is plot enough," she says and they both laugh.

"Have you dated a guy, then?" Stephanie asks next. 

"Only one for real," Eddie admits. "But it's not like I've dated many girls either, though it is easier."

"A young bachelor like you?" Stephanie raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You should be swarming with marriage proposals, the way your uncle describes you."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the cushions. 

"What nonsense is he telling about me?"

"Only that he has a talented, smart boy in Indy, who's always helpful and protective of his friends and family. Also, he has really frizzy hair."

"Excuse me?"

Eddie picks up his head to look at Stephanie. She's suddenly closer than before, rubbing a lock of his hair between her fingers. 

"When was the last time you had your hair done?"

"Uh." He looks between her hand and her face like he'll find the answer there. "Never? Probably? At least not that I remember."

Stephanie's mouth purses with displeasure. 

"I can fix them for you. For taking care of my cats."

Eddie wants her hands in his hair so badly, but he raises his beer like a dumbass. 

"But I already got a beer," he points out. 

She shakes her head. 

"I share beers with friends for less. I'd usually buzz Wayne too, and you'd be doing me a favor because I can't focus with your split ends right in my face."

She's really playing it up, pout and all, and unfortunately, it's working on him. 

But he'd probably do anything she asked for. 

"Then, uh... Sure, I guess."

[rosesnink]

Sinful Crush

Author's Notes

Happy birthday, Caro!!! Getting to know you these past year has been an amazing experience, and I wanted to thank you properly for it, since you fueled my love for Bas! I hope this fic I've cooked for you can show you my gratitude towards you and how grateful I am for being your friend. For more years together, amiga mía! Gracias por aguantarme <3

Before reading the fic, please read the TWs!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

If you want to be tagged in my COP fics, let me know!!

Summary: Sebastyan can't help crushing on a woman he shouldn't be crushing on

Word Count: 1.3k

Category: One-sided crush, suggestive

Pairing: Vasili Thorne x F!OC (mentioned) Sebastyan Thorne x F!OC (one-sided) F!Trystan Thorne x Juliana Georgescu

Rating: PG-13

TW: Age gap, suggestive scene (it's a dream, but still) and guns. Reader's discretion is advised. If you don't like/feel comfortable with these themes, PLEASE stop reading and block me if necessary, but don't be a dick in my notes

Book: Crimes of Passion

Fifteen-year-old Sebastyan Thorne had noticed two things: how Juli had slowly started to warm up to Trystan, and how beautiful Vasili’s companion –although Emika swore they were dating—was.

She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen: with thick, long brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and the sweetest face, with pink, plump lips that gave him heart flutters every time he looked at them. She was also smart; really smart. They talked about stuff Bas was yet to catch up. He had heard that she had a huge IQ, but was nevertheless something impressive, and Bas was rarely impressed.

He had royally messed up, looking like a fool when Vasili introduced her in the family brunch “Sebastyan! I’ve heard much about you. I’m Nerea Rose.”

“…Buuh? I mean, ahm, pleasure to meet Vasili’s, uhm, friend?”

She was so pretty, smelled like cherries and her hand was so warm, Sebastyan almost passed out, his head spinning. He could hear Emika and Patryk giggling, and Father was raising an eyebrow at this.

Nerea, the sweet angel she was, threw her head back and laughed “Aren’t you sweet! Vasili forgot to mention that, didn’t you?”

“Thought you’d like to see for yourself.”

Her ‘fiancé’ had made no attempt to get to know her or talk to her. Probably saw her as a broodmare to place his demon spawns into her. Eat shit, she thought, I am not giving birth to your hell spawns.

As she greeted the other siblings, Sebastyan shook his head, taking a generous swig of the cup in front of him. Which he discovered was not water, even if it looked like it. Even Emika looked pleased with her, and Emika loved to find flaws and throw shade at everyone.

The moment their parents retired, Juliana and Nerea were laughing and joking about something, and then, classic Patryk struck “Yo, girls! How bout a friendly competition?”

Nerea raised an intrigued eyebrow “What about?”

A malicious grin spread through “Shooting, since it’s like, an American thing.”

Nerea and Juliana shared a look, then she turned back and looked confused “Just because I’m American doesn’t mean I know how to shoot, but sure. Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two.”

Bas looked at Vasili, who thought the same. Keep Nerea safe from Patryk’s shenanigans… and the old guns. Putting an arm around her, he whispered something into her ear, and she into his, which left him intrigued.

Patryk looked at him mischievously “Maybe you’ll learn something too, Bas!”

He glared at him “I’m a politician, not a fighter, Patryk, and it’s Sebastyan to you.”

Emika smirked “But not for Nerea?”

He blushed furiously, but thankfully, Juliana put him out of his misery “I suppose every competition has some rules, yes?”

He noted to himself to get Juli her favourite flowers for that save.

“The rules are simple. Whoever blows any part of the dummy, has to dare the loser to anything juicy!”

Nerea nodded to Juli “Well, time to put your money where your mouth is, Patryk.” Juli said, in a calm, but challenging tone. Whatever they were planning, Patryk would regret mocking Nerea, and he was looking forward to it.

Panic washed over Patryk. Then, for the sake of his followers, he strutted ‘confidently’ towards the shooting point and aimed rather badly. Bas was no expert, but even he knew his form was all wrong. And he was right, because Patryk missed. Miserably so. Trystan burst out laughing, Vasili grimaced and Bas hid a smile. Definitely deserved.

Each sibling got a round. Of course, Vasili and Trystan were frontrunners. But by the way Nerea purposefully missed her shot, something inside told him that she had something up her sleeve. Another round passed, and she got ‘decent’ shots. Emika and Patryk both mocked her, saying that she had disappointed her American friends by being a terrible shot. Sharing looks with Vasili and Juliana; she walked towards the point and picked the gun.

It was like lightning. She accurately blew the dummy’s head with three shots, and put his dangling arm out of its misery with a fourth! She then turned to Patryk, a winning smile on her face “My father and uncle worked in the police force, thus taught me how to shoot and defend myself. I have a bachelor’s degree, a master’s and on my way to get a PhD, which means I am not to be underestimated. Never again assume I can’t put these bullets in unpleasant places of your body your thick head has clearly never heard of.” She then shot at another faraway dummy’s head, denting it without even looking.

Kaspar and Emika roared of laughter, Patryk reddened of shame, and Trystan whooped as Nerea and Juliana hugged, then Vasili smiled proudly at her, holding her hands. Bas felt a bit jealous, and was quite turned on when he had seen the way she confidently destroyed two dummies.

He shook his head. That woman was clearly into Vasili, and was five years older than him! It’d be wrong, and he couldn’t do that to Vasili. He had always been a loner, and now had someone who saw him. Nerea, no matter how hot or charming, was off limits.

Sebastyan was working on his computer, reading speeches and strategies of Drakovia’s greatest politicians, when a sultry voice drew away his attention “Hola, guapo.”

He lifted his head to see none than Nerea Rose, in a gorgeous black-emerald lingerie that let him see very much forbidden traces of her. He gulped “W-What is going on?”

She laughed seductively, and Bas tried to look at her eyes, but the revealing lingerie was not helping. She crawled to him, letting him see a dangerous glimpse of her bosom “Why are you fighting what you feel for me, hm?”

“Y-you know why.”

He suddenly felt a chill, and saw that his shirt was unbuttoned. She giggled mischievously “Oops. You won’t be needing that anymore, because this is what you want.”

He was not the owner of his actions anymore. He could only give in to her seductions, kissing her as the last image of the dream was her straddling him, finally feeling for himself her warmth.

When he thought the dream could not escalate any longer, a light blinded him.

It was his mother, waking him up “Good morning, son! Rise and shine! Today’s the day. Mayhaps Vasili will confess that Nerea is his girlfriend! I can feel it, you know!”

Marguerite giggled “I definitely saw them being all gross in his bedroom. They’re together, or about to be.”

Just his luck. Another day in which he had a crush on a woman he could never have. Not as long as Trystan and Vasili wanted them.

[degenerata69]

Continuation from my prompt for time-travel-age-gap-AU-or-whatever. Hope you enjoy!

Meanwhile, Mullet Stanley gathered the courage to speak to teen Ford. It was awkward, Ford didn't want to believe him at first until there wasn't any doubt it was him. Horrorized by the sight and realization, he dragged Stanley to their bedroom for him to treat his wounds and create a plan. During these months, despite his anger, he couldn't help but wonder how his brother was doing. He convinced himself Stanley was a fighter and would survive, but reality struck him like a million bricks. He had a mullet for fucks sake.

Stanley smoked a Cuban cigar while explaining to Teen Ford everything that went down, how he'd lived in his car, the gangs, the scams, the violence but left out an important piece of information he'd figure the young and jealous Ford didn't need to know yet. He remembers that the first time Stanford topped was after school, Stan got compliments from a sweet girl in class, and Ford needed to "claim" him. He couldn't imagine telling him that around this time, he survived by hopping from motel rooms, bars, gas stations, and public bathrooms.

Teen Ford just stared at him, hugged him, cried profusely, and apologized for abandoning him, promising to fix it. One thing led to another, and Ford put his lips on Stanley. While Stanley craved this more than anything else, we wanted to give up. He shouldn't do it. He is hurting his brother, he cannot allow this. Not again.

~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•

Paranoid Stanford, like the past few months, was not thinking straight, he was pounding his little brother on top of his work desk. Probably ruining some projects along the way, he bit, spit, bruised, slapped, and fucked him, desperate for marking him, he couldn't believe Stanley was tainted by someone else, couldn't let that happen to this Stanley, he needed to make him his again.

~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~

It turned out, to the surprise of no one, that Stanley couldn't resist the temptation of fucking his twin. A few kisses on the neck and "But I want this" and that's what it took to have Ford jumping on his cock, burning the cigar to his flesh as Ford requested.

He knew Ford was a masochistic freak. When he got an A instead of an A+, he would ask the younger to fuck him without lube. It shouldn't be a surprise but he was astonished by Ford's insistence on being "punished"

~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~~•~•~

They enjoy the sex their younger selves were providing for them, forgetting anything else existed, they both finished at the same, hitting the post-coital blues while the teenagers clung to them.

Of course, the best thing to do was to fix the machine and send everyone to their original timeline. But was it? He couldn't count that past Ford would make up things with Stan before it was too late. He couldn't bear to imagine him sleeping another night alone. But what about his Stanley? Was he selling his body at this moment in time? He knew he had to make it up; he might be tainted, but it was his fault.

Stanley, in the meantime, knew that everything was set up in his favor; Stanford would forgive his past self, and they'd figure it out together, get a real job, and attend university with his twin and prevent him from doing whatever the hell was happening in the present. If time travel movies were depicting reality, as soon as he comes back to his timeline, everything would change and it would be the perfect world.

But what if it isn't? What if the Stan Twins from this dimension live happily ever after but he doesn't get the same? Ford is waiting for him to take a stupid journal to the other side of the world, could his mind be changed, or was he sending teenage Stanley on his way, all alone?

The teenagers purred, their heartbeats synchronizing with their adult counterparts.

There is no harm with one more week, right?

[conkers-thecosy]

Hi there, Conkers!

Out of curiosity, what are some other ships you enjoy in the Tolkien fandom (other than your fondness for Bagginshield and Nwalin) ? Hobbit/LOTR/Silm, any work goes!

Well hi there!

Thanks for the question, and apologies it's taken me so long to respond! 💛

Hmmm... well, I'm very fond of Gimli/Legolas, and Frodo/Sam, but I'll be honest, there are very few pairings I can't find some love in my heart for, and the ones I'm not interested in either have a too-large age gap or are related to each other, and I'm not into that, personally.

That's the great thing about this fandom, I think! There's just so much scope for fandom, and an amazing mix of ideas and people. It's so much fun!

Thanks again for the question, this was interesting to think about!

[dollfacefantasy]

hmmm thinking about dbf!frank castle(or any fine older guy). you had a crush on him for yeeeaaaars but now you’re in your 20s and over him (because you realized it was never going to happen). but then you have a flat tire or something and you have to call him for help because dads busy and somehow frank ends up with his hand around your throat and his p in your v

mmmmm 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 and then in the weeks and months that follow, so much of your stuff starts to break or need repairing… you’re always having to go to frank for help but he’s more than happy to. he’s never too busy to take care of you <3

[slimypaws]

Some Rainbow x Scootaloo Art because I felt like it. [And someone inspired me—]

[sp00nful0fsuga]

I have a weak spot for this ship and have for so many years.

[perelka-l]

There was a sort of draw your ship as this here and I had those two suggested to me so... Yeah... Yeah... He would. (Congrats on your catch, Drayster~)