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crushpunky · 3 months ago

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rafe surprises girlfriend!reader

masterlist

Streams of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, slowing waking y/n from her rest. She stirred for a moment, inhaling deeply as she took in the soft floral scent of Rafe’s sheets. These days, y/n found herself spending more time with Rafe at Tanneyhill than she did in her own home. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her family, it was more the fact that she couldn’t imagine waking up without Rafe next to her, the two of them tangled in the early morning and basking in each other's presence in Rafe’s bed. It, and him, had become so deeply ingrained within her bones, it felt like she needed it to live.

So, when she turned to face his likely still sleeping body, she was surprisingly greeted with an empty bed. No soft curve of his freckled shoulders, planes of his muscled chest, or his gentle, sleepy expression. With a groan, she sat up and swung her legs off the bed, tugging on one of Rafe’s t-shirts before padding down the hallway.

“Shit!” Y/n heard someone shout from the kitchen as she made her way down the steps. The kitchen was a mess, ingredients littered around the countertops and numerous pans sitting out.

“Rafe?” Y/n asked, rubbing some of the remnants of sleep out of her eye. Rafe turned around, his apron covered in a bright red sauce and a fine dusting of flour littering his nose. Y/n felt herself stifle a laugh at the site. A site that so many people across the OBX would find so strange, the notoriously rich asshole Rafe Cameron spending the early hours in the kitchen cooking up a feast of… something? Based solely on the wide range of sauces, seasoning, ingredients, and dishes across the kitchen, y/n wasn’t quite able to put her finger on what was going on.

“Oh,” Rafe checked his watch quickly before turning back to the stovetop, “you’re up early.”

“You’re up early,” Y/n furrowed her brow. “It’s 9 am. On a weekend.”

“Well, I was, um,” Rafe stammered, “going to surprise you but the pancakes took a lot longer than I was anticipating.”

“Surprise me? What for?” Y/n leaned against the counter next to Rafe, popping one of the strawberries sitting out as her eyes scanned over him. His gaze was focused on the pancakes that bubbled gently in front of him, a light pink flush littering his cheeks and a slight shake in his hand that clutched the turner.

“Am I not allowed to surprise my beautiful girlfriend?” Rafe said. Y/n laughed lightly, reaching up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to Rafe’s cheek. His eyes flickered over her face quickly before a small grin spread across his face, pressing a kiss to y/n’s lips in return.

“I think these are done. Sit down.” Rafe said, turning off the stove and taking the pancakes off the heat. Y/n abided, making her way to the kitchen table. She was surprised to see a crisp white table cloth adorning the table along with crystal champagne flutes, glittering silverware, and a carafe of orange juice. Suspiciously, she sat down, her eyes watching intently as Rafe bit his lip in concentration, transferring the only slightly burnt pancakes onto two plates before topping them with a strawberry sauce and a dollop of whip cream. He grabbed the two plates, carrying them carefully over to the dining table, placing one in front of y/n and one at his setting opposite her. With a huff, he quickly pulled off the apron, wiping away some of the powder that had managed to get onto his polo before taking his seat.

“What is going on, Cameron?” Y/n said. None of this made any sense. Sure, Rafe was a great boyfriend and loved to shower her with gifts and praise, but this? Waking up at god knows when on the weekend, spending hours making fresh pancakes, and wearing a polo shirt before noon, all with an oddly anxious flush littering his cheeks… it was so strange.

“What do you mean?” Rafe asked, his fingers fidgeting with his gold Cameron ring absentmindedly.

“I… I don’t know what to say. This is a lot.” Y/n glanced down at the exquisite table setting and pile of pancakes in front of her, shaking her head to herself.

“Is that bad?” Rafe’s brow furrowed in concern.

“No, no, of course not.” Y/n reached across the table, grabbing Rafe’s hand gently. “I just wasn’t expecting all of this.”

Rafe took a deep breath, blinking quickly before he reached for the champagne between the two of them, his hands still shaking slightly. Despite his problems with addiction in the past, Rafe had gotten to a point where he was in control of his relationship with alcohol. It was a long and sometimes harrowing journey, but y/n had stuck with him throughout it all.

Rafe fiddled with the top before finally uncorking it, the champagne bubbling out of the bottle and spraying onto the table and his shirt. He swore, holding it over the floor as the bubbling eventually subsided. Y/n bit back a laugh, trying her best not to further the pressure Rafe was seemingly feeling for some reason.

“Shit, sorry.” Rafe mumbled with a sigh, raking his hand through his hair quickly.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her champagne flute, passing it to Rafe to fill. He shook his head, filling both their glasses carefully before setting the bottle down and picking up the orange juice. He topped both of their glasses, only splashing a bit of their drinks onto the already dampened table cloth. Y/n grabbed her flute, raising it in a toast.

“To my perfect, wonderful, and very hot boyfriend.” Y/n said, Rafe raising his glass in return, his cheeks flushing an even deeper red if that were possible.

“Did you not see me just spill the champagne everywhere?” Rafe scoffed, the two of them taking sips out of their mimosas. Y/n rolled her eyes, picking up her silverware and cutting into the pile of steaming pancakes.

“It’s part of your irresistible charm, Cameron.” Y/n said, taking a bite of pancakes covered in whipped cream and berries. She chewed it, a bitter taste filling her mouth as she did her best to choke down the breakfast without Rafe noticing. Apparently, though, she hadn’t done a good enough job because a concerned expression wiped over Rafe’s face as he himself took a bite of his breakfast. Immediately he cringed, grabbing the cloth napkin in front of him and spitting out the mouthful of pancakes.

“Goddamnit!” Rafe swore with a groan, tossing the napkin back down onto the table.

“No, no, they’re good!” Y/n said, putting another forkful of pancakes into her mouth. However, her words betrayed her as she involuntarily gagged before spitting the pancakes out into her napkin.

“Shit, I can’t believe I ruined this whole fucking thing…” Rafe exhaled, resting his head in his hands, his fingers curling into his grown out buzz cut.

“Hey, hey, don’t,” Y/n got up from her chair, rounding the table before wrapping her arms around Rafe’s shoulders. “This was a really nice breakfast. Really.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Rafe sighed, his head lifting to look at her. “I fucked it up. This whole thing.”

“What whole ‘thing’?” Y/n asked, her hand tracing slowly along the curve of Rafe’s back. Was this ‘thing’ what was causing him to do all this? Causing him to act so strangely anxious around her of all people?

“I…” Rafe trailed off, his gaze falling into his lap. Y/n knelt next to him, peering up at him as he struggled for the words. With a deep breath, Rafe reached into his pocket, pulling out a singular, glittering gold key. Y/n watched as he stood from his chair, offering her his hand to help her to her feet. She took it, her gaze watching him closely as his fingers brushed the small keychain attached to the key with a soft pink ribbon.

“Y/n.” Rafe said quietly, y/n’s eyes flicking up to meet him as Rafe reached for her hand. He took it, his grip on her wrist light as he turned her palm to face up. Y/n felt her pulse pick up as he placed the key in her hand.

“Y/n,” Rafe said again, “I never thought that I would meet someone that makes me feel the way you do. That makes me so happy and… makes me feel like maybe I am somebody that someone could love.”

Y/n felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes beginning to well with tears at Rafe’s vulnerability.

“This last year has been… difficult to say the least, but you stuck by my side throughout it all,” Rafe continued. “I’m so thankful for you and… I want to give you the life you want. The one you deserve.”

“What are you saying, Rafe?” Y/n whispered, trying her best to blink back the tears.

“Y/n, if you’ll have me, I’d love to have you move in with me.” Rafe said, swallowing harshly as his eyes scanning over y/n’s face as a smile spread across her lips. With a nod, y/n wrapped her arms around Rafe’s broad shoulders. She felt his shoulders relax under her touch, his face tucking into the crook of her neck. After a moment, they finally pulled apart. Y/n wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the t-shirt of Rafe’s she had on, her face still shining with a smile. Y/n met Rafe’s gaze again, his eyes glistening lightly with tears.

“Oh, baby.” Y/n cooed, reaching to swipe her thumb underneath Rafe’s eye gently. He chuckled, allowing his face to relax into her touch. Slowly, she lowered her hand, turning the key in her palm once more, looking closer this time. A small, twinkling heart attached to the key with a pink ribbon. The gold key looked different from the previous one he had given her, something about the handle feeling just sort of… off.

“But, baby, I’m confused.” Y/n said, still looking at the key in her palm. “I already have a key to Tanneyhill.”

Rafe took her hand, running his thumb gently across her knuckles, the coolness of his rings pressing into her skin. She looked up at him, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“It’s not for Tanneyhill.” Rafe said quietly. Y/n’s eyes furrowed for a moment before it finally clicked. These keys weren’t for Tanneyhill, they were for their house. Their home.

“Rafe Cameron you didn’t!” Y/n chuckled, causing Rafe to smile widely.

“I did, baby.” Rafe grinned. Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him down to her as their lips met. Rafe’s hands snaked around y/n’s waist, pulling her flush against him as they melted into the kiss. After a moment, they finally pulled away, the two of them panting and smiling like idiots.

“But where? I mean, it’s still on the island, right?” Y/n asked, her fingers tracing along the nape of Rafe’s neck slowly.

“Well,” Rafe said. “You know that house I was selling? The one with the green kitchen and big ass fireplace?”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. She remembered it, of course she did. It was a beautiful home only a couple miles from Tanneyhill he had purchased as an “investment”. Rafe had spent months renovating it, asking her every night for her opinion on every little detail down to the towel bars and the sconces. Now it all started to make sense. This perfect house she had found herself falling in love with more and more each time Rafe showed her pictures or took her to the set wasn’t just any house. It was theirs.

“I love you, Rafe Cameron.” Y/n said exasperatedly, shaking her head in bewilderment as Rafe continued to smile back at her.

“I love you, y/n y/ln.” Rafe grinned, pressing another kiss to her lips.

#obx #obx au #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x girlfriend!reader #girlfriend!reader

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auggieblogs · 1 year ago

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"As snug as a bug in a rug" | LN4

Lando Norris x Reader Author's note: Hiii, everyone. I hope you all are having a good weekend!!! I am currently sick and very needy, hence, the sick fic. Also, I saw an Instagram reel where the boyfriend made a lunchbox for his girlfriend. Needless to say, I wanted to gouge my eyes (it was so fucking adorable). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one. Happy reading!❤️

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring, a feeling of dread washing over you as you realized you'd overslept for your important math lecture. Your head was throbbing, your throat was sore, and the cold seemed to have settled in your bones. You knew you were in no condition to face a full day of classes, let alone an important lecture.

Frantically, you gathered your books, your nose still a little stuffy, and your eyes slightly teary from the cold. But as you were about to dash out of your room, a sweet aroma caught your attention. Following your nose, you walked into the kitchen to find Lando hard at work.

Lando was standing by the counter, wearing an apron that read "Kiss the Chef," his brows furrowed in concentration as he prepared your lunch. His culinary skills might not be top-notch, but he was determined to make a good lunchbox for you.

He glanced over at you, his face lighting up with a loving smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "I thought I'd make you something to eat since you're not feeling well."

He presented you with a carefully prepared lunchbox. Inside, you found a delightful veggie chicken sandwich, your favourite double chocolate muffin, a peeled orange, freshly cut strawberries, your preferred crisps, and a bottle of apple juice. Lando had thought of everything you liked.

He even managed to draw a little, albeit a bit messy, a doodle of you two holding hands on the note he wrote, "I love you" written underneath.

You rushed into his arms, giving him a tight hug and planting a small, grateful peck on his cheek, being careful not to pass on your cold.

"Thank you, Lando," you whispered, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando gently brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled softly. "You're welcome, love. Now, let's make sure you're feeling better." He handed you some medication and carefully spoon-fed you the cough syrup, making sure you didn't spill a drop.

Afterwards, he helped you into a warm jacket, tucking you in with care. "As snug as a bug in a rug," he said with a wink.

With your lunch packed, your cold medicine taken, and Lando by your side, you felt much better already. He took your hand and led you out the door, making sure you were bundled up warmly before driving you to university. During the car ride, he kept his hand on your thigh, occasionally squeezing it to reassure you.

Once you arrived on campus, Lando walked you to your math lecture, giving you another quick but sweet kiss before parting. "Take it easy and get well soon," he whispered.

You smiled, "I will, thanks to you. I love you, Lan."

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gremlinmodetweeker · 5 months ago

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TF 141 and their Morning Drink Preferences

TF 141 Dump

TF 141 Headcanons

Ghost:

Obvious tea drinker

Or is it that obvious?

Painfully British of the whole lot of them

Will only drink black teas, absolutely despises herbal, green or rooibos teas

Of the black teas avoids anything floral because he thinks it’s a bit too frilly for his palette

Never adds sugar to teas, says it ruins the flavor

Will add milk to help cool a tea, but only just slightly

Claims drinking a freshly made cup of tea on a hot summer day helps cool him down

How this works is beyond me, but he claims it anyways

Thinks adding cream is a vile concept and anyone who does so should be interrogated by the CIA

Soap

He’ll drink a cup of tea with Ghost, but he’s really more of a coffee person

Prefers medium roast with a heavy serving of cream

He can’t stand adding milk, but will use it if there’s nothing else

Adds sugar when he gets a chance

Despises sweeteners and will make little digs at anyone who does use sweetener, usually citing health reasons

Don’t try arguing that adding two spoons of sugar is just as bad, he won’t hear it

As for tea he prefers rooibos, which drives Ghost up the wall

Is down for anything, really

Gaz

Doesn’t like hot beverages

Prefers either a cool glass of water or juice

Does not understand caffeine addiction whatsoever

Claims the drinks are healthier and more refreshing

People just think he’s incredibly dehydrated in the morning

Will take orange juice from concentrate without batting an eye, but really enjoys more exotic juices if he can get his hands on them

When stationed in foreign countries he’ll try juices made from native fruits

Really likes cactus and mango juice, but is not opposed to papaya

Dislikes southern lemonade with a passion, claims it’s far too sweet

Is surprisingly peppy in the morning despite only drinking juice

Roach

Whatever’s there will work

However, he tends to prefer teas

He’s especially fond of green teas

He goes on about how healthy they are for the mind and body

Also will go on about how easy they are to transport and keeps a small sachet of matcha powder (the cheap stuff) on him to prove his point

He thinks Ghost is a snob and should just get over himself

Has tried to sway the others, but they all tell him matcha tastes like grass

He thinks they’re all idiots

Price

Coffee only

Does not fuss over his coffee whatsoever

Whatever’s in the canteen will do

His one gripe is adding cream or sugar

He will only take his coffee black

Some have tried to win him over with coffees made with cream/milk/sugar, and he’ll be polite enough to drink them and thank them, but he really doesn’t like it too much

He will tell them to not fuss too much if they get him another coffee so they don’t do it again

Cannot stand people whining about how they take their coffee and how the military doesn’t give out the good stuff

He just considers them weak whiners

This includes Ghost when he complains about not having enough black tea in the canteen

Price glad to say it to his face

He could not care less about age or temperature

He’ll pull a day-old cup straight out of the fridge and down it like there’s no tomorrow

Art from This Post

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rainbowbarnacle · 10 months ago

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Please make a tea post so I can save it especially the pineapple ice cubes I need more info

Oh, like, different teas I like to make? Okay! :D

🍍Pineapple Tea🍍

The way I do it is really simple:

Buy a giant jug of already-made tea (I like gold peak!)

Buy a carton of pineapple juice

Freeze the juice into cubes, pour a little of it in the tea for extra flavor

And that's it. That's aaaall you gotta do.

There's all kindsa ways you can dress it up, but nine times out of ten I just do this and drink it by the gallon when it's hot out.

If you wanna get fancy with it, feel free to cold brew your own black (or green) tea, add actual hunks of pineapple fruit in there, add some orange juice, add some honey, add some coconut milk or sweetened condensed milk, whatever sounds good! (Also, pairing pineapple tea with coconut cookies? SO GOOD.) Put mint in the pineapple cubes if you like mint! Add a bit of boiled ginger root or some brown sugar and cinnamon for a little kick! Heck, last summer I used blue peaflower star-shaped ice cubes just because they were pretty.

(Peaflower petals don't taste like much, but they make a GORGEOUS blue, and if you put something acidic in there like lemon juice IT TURNS PINK. :D)

🍓Strawberry Tea🍓

I find this stuff sort of difficult to find where I live, so often I go the same route as the pineapple tea: grab a jug of black tea, grab a jug of strawberry juice, (ocean spray has a really nice cran-strawberry one I like) freeze the juice, mix, and enjoy. Super simple.

If I can't find strawberry juice, I dice some strawberries up and put it in a jar with some water and a bit of sugar for a few hours, then add *that* to the tea. (heck, it's really nice all by itself!)

What goes with strawberry? ANY DANG THING YOU WANT. I am particularly fond of lychee. Jasmine tea and rose petals pair really well with it too. Again, if you like mint, it's *really* nice with strawberry. And you know how if you put black pepper on strawberries they taste even strawberrier? (If you haven't tried this, go do it, it's magic.) Same goes with the tea, add some peppercorns or a teeny bit of chili powder or some ginger.

If you wanna drink it hot or cold brew a batch of your own, here are some brands that are also nice:

1. Strawberry Sensation

2. Adagio Strawberry Tea (this is also where I got the peaflower petals)

3. Any of Lupicia's Strawberry Teas they are HEAVENLY

🍏Apple Tea🍏

As with the pineapple and strawberry teas, it's totally fine to just go find some ready-made tea and mix it with some apple cider or apple juice for tasty low spoons fun. If you drink it iced, a bit of sugar and lemon juice brings out the apple flavor nicely!

I prefer drinking this stuff hot though. You know that Fall Drink post that was floating around? IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, TRY IT, IT'S AWESOME.

☕Chai Tea☕

So here's the thing about chai for me personally: I don't tend to drink it iced or sugary, but if you do like it iced and sugary, there are a couple of really nice chai tea concentrates:

Oregon Chai Latte

Tazo's Chai Latte (Forget the "skinny" nonsense, I just wanted to include an option with no milk so you can add whatever you want to it)

Pacific Chai isn't concentrated, but you can use it to make hot or iced chai and it's really lovely, not too sweet and super easy to work with. As for dressing up chai, I don't tend to! There's already so much going on with all the flavors, I just drink it as-is most days. Play with milk-to-tea ratios or sugar amounts all you like, figure out what's your jam.

I do know that mixing chai and coffee together (or chai and chocolate together) is guaranteed to make a feeling groovy kind of morning, at least if you have two thumbs and you're me. Iiii think that's all the tea blather I can think of for right now. Thank you for asking, anon, it was fun! Anybody reading this, feel free to add your own favorite things to do with tea. :D

#domestic blifs #this has been tea blather with rainbowbarnacle #thank you for attending my TEA-d talk

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shittyassffblog · 4 months ago

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In Sickness and In Health

Someone said they wanted noah taking care of Y/N when they were sick and i took that upon myself lol (not at all procrastinating my dissertation noooooo) anyways here. They're married too yay

If anyone wants to go on a taglist for when i post send me an inbox and i'll add you to it!

Warnings: illness (cold and coughing), fluff, any others please tell me.

You woke up to the most annoying sound of your alarm going off. You had never been more pissed at your alarm before and soon you felt it. Your left nostril all blocked up. You groaned out loud and turned under your covers only for the other nostril to be blocked off too now. You opened your eyes to see the other side of the bed empty. Noah must be at the gym.

You got up from the bed to get a shower, hoping that would clear up some of the goo in your nose. As you got undressed, you called your work to tell them you were sick. You put on some calming music and got in the warm water. You lost track of time in there, the warm water being so soothing. You quickly washed your body and hair and got out again. You took your time doing your skincare, rubbing your whole body with bodyoil. You walked into your bedroom to find Noah half dressed, looking through his drawers for a pair of underwear. You hugged him from behind and he juped slightly.

"Hey princess, what are you doing home?" He asked, turning around and hugging you close.

"I'm sick." You said simply, your stuffed nose providing evidence of your claim.

"Then what are you doing out of bed?!" He asked incrediously. You smiled.

"I can shower by myself baby, you go shower." You said and siled at him.

"No?! I'm gonna make you some tea and some good breakfast, and then we will spend all day on the couch cuddling." He said with a firm grip on your arms.

"Okay but could you shower first? You smell." You said and he laughed.

"How would you know that, you can't smell anything." He said kissing your forehead and going to take a shower. You laughed to yourself and went to get settled on the couch with your phone.

You were a good 20 minutes into your tiktok scroll when Noah emerged from the bathroom, wet hair and a pair of black tight underwear on.

"You should never wear anythign else." You said and he grinned.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked and you pondered for a bit.

"Waffles with berries and whipped cream." You said and he laughed.

"Be serious, you can't have that if you're sick. You need healthy food." He said and you pouted. "What about avocado toast? You can have the berries on the side." He said and you sighed through your mouth.

"Alright. But I want juice as well." You said and he laughed again.

"Sure angel." He said.

"Can i have the controller?" You asked pointing to the Playstation 5 controller that was by the TV.

"Of course baby. You want the blankets too?" he asked and you nodded. He wrapped you in the blankets tightly and handed you the controller and turned on the TV, handing you the remote.

"Wait here gorgeous, i'll fix you some food." He said, kissing your head and you smiled as you started up GTAV on the giant flat screen that adorned your wall.

Noah soon returned with the food he promised, placing the plate on your lap and the glass of juice on the little table beside your couch. He plopped down beside you and you handed him the controller to continue the game while you ate.

"You're so trash at this." You said, mouth full of food. He was so concentrated on the game his tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth, turning the controller the way he wanted the car to go.

"Yeah well i was learning guitar when i was a kid i didn't play car games." He said and you laughed. Once you were done eating you put down your plate and drank half of the orange juice. You took back the controller, putting Franklin in the game out of his misery and finished the mission. You then put the controller down and opened tiktok, scrolling a few videos down.

"Aren't you going to practice?" You asked Noah, who was supposed to be in the soundproof basement. He shook his head and pulled you close so your head was resting against his chest.

"No, cancelled." He said squeezing you tightly into his body.

"Why?" You asked looking up at him.

"Would rather make sure you were okay. It's never nice to be alone when you're sick." Noah said and your heart warmed. You truly had found the best husband ever.

"But don't you need to practice some of the new songs?" You asked and he shook his head.

"No we're good. Just relax baby." He said and you turned back to your phone.

You woke up to the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen, and you looked out the window to see the sun was setting. You didn't know how long you had been asleep for, you don't even remember falling asleep, but apparently now the sun was setting, and from the sounds of it, Noah was doing the dishes. You got off the couch and walked out to find him, wrapping the blanket around you.

"Baby." You said groggily. Noah turned around quickly and smiled when he saw you.

"Hey sweets. You okay?" He asked as he hugged you around your blanket. You nodded into his chest.

"yeah j's missed you." You said and ge chuckled.

"I'm right here baby." He said as he started to sway you slightly back and forth.

"You wanna watch a movie?" he asked and you nodded. You shuffled back into the living room, Noah right on your heels, and you put on Twilight, which Noah had never seen.

"I swear i'm only okay with this cause you're sick." He said and you looked at him.

"Sure. That's the only reason." You said and laid your head in his hand. He han his large tattoed hands through your hair softly as the events of Bella and Edward took place on the screen. You almost fell asleep again if it wasn't because you absolutely loved this movie.

"Is there more of this?" Noah asked and you chuckled.

"Yes. 4 more movies." You said and he yelped in surprise.

"They made that many?!" He asked and you laughed.

"Yes, it was very popular book series, it made a lot of money!" You laughed as he found the next one.

"You need anything before it starts?" He asked as he ran his hand along your leg.

"A cup of tea would be nice, yeah." You said and kissed his hand. He got up to make the tea and you were suddenly filled with a feeling of complete love and joy for the tattooed man you were sharing your life with. You had never felt so loved before, never felt so cared for and you adored the way he was taking care of you and making sure you felt good. Loving Noah was the best thing that ever happened to you and as he came back and sta beside you, unpausing the movie and being so invested in a thing you really loved, you couldn't stop yourself from kissing him deep.

"Great now I'll get sick." He said, no real venom behind his words, and a big smile on his lips.

"And i will take care of you." You said and kissed him again.

________________

So yeah that's it guys. Hope you like itttt. send me requests and feedback in my inbox <3

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #noah sebastian bad omens

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hughes86-43 · 11 months ago

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Walk in the Park | L.Hughes

warnings - none, at least I don’t think!

summary - a slow morning with Luke, brings you both to the park.

The sun is streaming in through the curtains in your bedroom when you awake. Slowly opening your eyes, you see that Luke is still sleeping. He has his arm wrapped loosely around your waist, and you have your leg thrown over his. You admire his stunning features before slowly turning out of his grasp and making your way to the bathroom. You wash your face, brush your teeth, and throw your hair into a braid and return back to the bedroom. In the bedroom, you see that Luke has woken up and is scrolling on his phone.

He looks up at you, standing in your cute pajama shorts and one of his infamous hoodies, which he adores and says, “hi, baby.”

“Hi Lukey,” You say as you join him back under the covers. He opens his arms for you to cuddle up next to him again and you put your head on his chest. He instantly starts playing with your hair. You guys never get mornings like this through the season, but you both had the day off so you both wanted to treasure it.

Rubbing your hand up and down his bare chest, “I love getting to spend time in bed with you and neither of us having to rush out of it to get somewhere.”

“I love it too, but I also love you,” he says kissing your head.

“Oh that was so cheesy,” you say laughing, “but I love you too.”

After a few moments of watching various videos on his phone together, you decide it should be time to get up and get some food. “I’m hungry, let’s go find some food.”

“I agree, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick and how about you head into the kitchen and grab some ingredients for pancakes,” he says standing up from the bed and looking for a shirt that he had thrown off last night but had no luck. You lay there for minute longer so you could look at your boyfriend as he walks into the bathroom in just his boxers.

Once you get all the ingredients together, Luke walks in, now dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Walking to the fridge to get the orange juice ready, he says, “What do you want to do today?”

Looking up from the pancake box, shrugging you say, “I want to mostly just chill on the couch with you, but I wouldn’t be opposed to going on a walk in the park later, if you’re okay with that.”

“That’s sounds good to me baby, we can go after we eat.” You nod with a smile and begin cooking the pancakes.

While you cook the pancakes, Luke makes the coffee for you both while making sure to use your favorite creamer and making sure to put whip cream on top. Then he grabs the plates down from the cabinet and grabs the syrup.

“I hope I didn’t burn these too bad, pancakes are always a hit or miss,” You say concentrating on making the pancakes perfect.

“Don’t worry I’ll eat them no matter what,” Luke says coming around to where you’re standing and puts his hands on your hips, “I think they look good love.”

After deciding you had made enough pancakes, you put them on the plates laid out and drizzle syrup over them. Taking your plate and coffee, you make your way to the kitchen table with Luke trailing behind you.

“Thank you for making my coffee, you did it perfectly.”

“Of course, baby, thank you for the pancakes, they’re perfect.” Luke tastes a big bite of his pancakes and practically moans over how good it is. You just shake your head and laugh and finish eating your pancakes.

Once all the dishes are in the sink, deciding you’ll do them later, you make your way back into the kitchen table to sit by Luke. “You ready to go on a walk? I think it’s a bit warmer than it has been, but I would still bundle up some,” He says while looking at the weather app on his phone.

“Now should be a good time, I’ll just need a few minutes to change my clothes.”

Deciding to wear an old Michigan hoodie, some black leggings, and your tennis shoes, you make your way back into the living room to where your boyfriend is. “I’m all ready! Let me just grab my belt bag!” You say but not without spinning around and showing your outfit off to your boyfriend like you always do.

“Looking amazing as always, let me grab my wallet,” he gets up from the couch and grabs his wallet from the kitchen table, as well as the keys to the apartment.

After making sure all the lights were out and the stove was turned off (because there was the one time you accidentally left it on for four hours), you unlock the front door and walk out into the hallway of your apartment building. As you do, Luke doesn’t hesitate to playfully smack your butt as you walk out the door.

“Hey!”

“Sorry baby, but the leggings show off your body perfectly,” he says shrugging. What he didn’t notice when he said that was the sweet elderly lady that had walked out of her door at the same time you guys did and saw him smack your butt and heard what he said.

You give her a shy smile, and say, “So sorry about him, he never pays attention to see if people are around.” She just gives you a sweet smile, grabs her newspaper, and walks back into her apartment.

“Babe I love you and I love that you love my butt, but please look and see if others are around,” You say, trying to be stern, but you just can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, but gotta make sure people know your mine,” he smiles, completely unphased by the situation.

“She’s an elderly woman! She won’t come after me! You’ve probably scarred her!” Finally reaching the elevator, you both walk in and press the button for the first floor.

Cuddling into his side, he laughs, “Well you never know.”

When the elevator has reached the first floor, you both walk out, smiling to the couple that was about to get into the elevator, and then smiling and waving to the building staff (that you both have made friends with since moving in).

Walking hand-in-hand, you reach the park. You both have made it a habit to try to get to the park together on days off or when either of you feel like it since it is so close to your apartment building and you both love it. You guys usually walk about the mile and half around the lake and then stop to look at the geese that like to hang out there.

“It’s so pretty out. I’m glad the weather let up since it’s been so rainy lately,” You say and Luke hums back as an agreement.

“At least the geese look calmer today and are not running after someone,” he says thinking back to when you guys went walking last time. There had been a man walking a couple feet ahead of you guys, and he was just trying to take pictures of the view, but the geese had another idea and chased that man for a good mile before giving up. Not wanting to get the geese to come and chase you guys, you had decided to turn back around and keep an eye on your backs incase they decided to come after you guys. You both had laughed about that for a good week. You just hoped the man had safely gotten away.

“I know right! I was walking the other day with my friend and we both kept our eyes out for them incase they came after us! I told her the story and she died laughing!”

Luke could listen to your laugh forever if he had the chance. Honestly, he was just so happy to enjoy this time with you, like he always does. Wanting to remember this moment, he decides to take some pictures. He stops abruptly, causing you to stumble a bit but he steadies you, you say, “What’s wrong? Oh no! Are they following us?” You start looking every way to see if the geese are coming after you guys.

“Haha, no. I just wanted to stop and take some pictures,” he grabs his phone out of his hoodie pocket, “Smile, I need some photos of you!”

Striking a pose, you give him a big smile as he takes a couple pictures of you. “You’re perfect, so beautiful,” he says admiring all the pictures he just took of you. “Now, let’s take a selfie.” Putting the phone in front of you both, he takes photos of you both either smiling, tongues out, or kissing his cheek.

Now it was your turn to get some photos of him, “Since you want to take so many pictures of me, it’s only fair I get some pictures of you!” As he gives you a smile, you take a couple photos of him.

“Okay, okay! I think that’s plenty of pictures for now!” He says coming over to you and pulling you into a hug and placing a kiss on your forehead. “You ready to make our way back home?”

“Yes, I’m getting a bit cold. I should’ve bundled up a bit more.”

He grabs your hand again, “Come on, once we get home, we can change back into our pajamas and lay on the couch. I was thinking we could watch that new baking competition show,” he suggests as he knows you love those baking shows.

“Anything is good with me as long as you’re there,” You say while looking up at him quickly.

Noticing you looking at him, he gives you a smile and puts his arm around you. Walking back through the park and through your apartment building and then into your apartment, you couldn’t be happier to have such an amazing boyfriend.

#luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #nhl imagines #imagines #my fics

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candyhartes · 1 year ago

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sweet like oranges

s: you & luffy leisurely enjoy each others company with oranges.

cw: suggestive

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

life on the sea has always brought you a sense of tranquility with such idyllic views when you aren’t being chased down my marines or having to navigate through harsh storms and rough waves. it also restores peace between the crew on the ship when everyone’s off doing their own thing.

unfortunately for your usual hyperactive boyfriend, he managed to piss his cook off enough to punish him by pushing him out of the kitchen with three oranges—unpeeled. you couldn’t help but laugh as his predicament as you leaned against the main mast overlooking the ocean with a book in your hand.

“i told you, help me!” luffy cries out annoyed. he throws his back dramatically, the orange he was working on laying in his lap with a huge bite mark. he’s already attempted to bite into it like an apple but the bitter skin caused him to quickly spit it out. he falls back landing perfectly in your lap, “please?”

you laugh to yourself, hiding your smile behind your book, “sanji gave you those to keep you busy until lunch time. it would be cheating if i helped you.”

“he doesn’t have to know,” luffy’s eyes glaze over in a way that would cause you to cave in, you try to ignore it but with the way your heart skips a beat you know it’s useless to fight against it.

sighing you grab the orange from his lap, he’s quick to sit up with a dazzling smile but it quickly fades when you only peel around his bite mark. he raises an eyebrow at you looking completely unimpressed as you hand the orange back, “there. i started it for you, it should be easier now.”

“really?” luffy huffs, rolling his eyes as you nod your head proudly. he shifts so he’s sitting across from you and begins his very difficult and annoying task of peeling his own food. “fine but don’t think i’m gonna share since you want to be mean!”

rather than giving him a reaction you simply hum and return your attention back to your book. your attention only lasts a couple of minutes as you notice it’s been a while since luffys began his theatrics, however as you glance up you take in his focused expression. your eyes dart from his mouth; his tongue slightly sticking out with his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. the sun does nothing to hide the tiny intricate freckles that decorate his cheeks and nose, his features could rival even the greatest of gods.

the red vest he is so insistent on wearing drapes over his toned arms, flexing ever so slightly whenever he forcibly digs into the orange without a single care of the droplets of juice running down his wrist. you gulp, no longer interested in your book, shivers running down your spine despite laying directly under the scorching sun. you raise your book higher up in order to protect yourself from future embarrassment and hope luffy doesn’t feel your pointed gaze.

‘get a grip’

your voice of reason does nothing to the desire swimming in your lower stomach once your eyes reach luffy’s hands. the thought of finding something ridiculous like hands attractive cause a rush of blood to flood your cheeks, suddenly the temperature rises from both embarrassing and sinful thoughts. you absolutely cannot blame yourself when your boyfriend’s hands were carved by god himself, with the perfect amount of veins running through the back of his hands, his cuticles surprisingly well kept (some overgrown but not undesirable), and he tends to keep his nails short since he has a habit of biting them.

his fingers unskillful rip the orange to shreds as he finally manages to peel the skin away. he smiles proudly at himself and glances up at you, meeting your eyes. your heart drops for a second a feeling of being caught for doing something you shouldn’t have been doing crosses your consciousness yet luffy’s eyes light up at your intense gaze.

your boyfriend might be an idiot at times but he wasn’t stupid. he couldn’t help but wet his lips watching as your gaze instantly drop down to his mouth, rehydrating them to their natural pink color. you gulp slowly putting your book down that was still shielding your face. luffy grins and digs his fingers into the large hole in the orange he made from his bite and splits it in half.

“i guess i can spare some.” luffy hums ripping his orange into slices. you open your mouth to finally speak up, scold him for making such a mess. however, just as you did, luffy’s quick enough to stick a slice of orange in your mouth, his fingers resting on your lips, his intense gaze wanting you to swallow the slice whole, “so?”

you nod unable to speak as you chew the slice droplets of juice leaking from the corner of your mouth. luffy frowns reaching over with his thumb go wipe the juice and you think he’s gonna be childish and clean his fingers on your shirt. instead he pops his thumb into his mouth and hums. that sickly sweet smile ruining the little sanity you had left, “sweet.”

swallowing the orange caused a painful lump in your throat that felt almost impossible to get through. luffy finishes the rest of the orange watching your reaction with a mischievous glint in his eyes. you shift under his gaze unable to speak but the sound of usopp’s laughter in the background snaps you back into reality and you’re ready to scold luffy for his teasing but a strong voice cuts you completely off.

“hey guys, lunch is ready!” sanji’s voice causes both you and luffy to turn over towards the source.

“finally!” luffy laughs and picks up the remaining oranges to hand back to sanji. he leaves you feeling flustered and caught off guard at his actions, before he gets too far he turns to face you, “cmon let’s go! maybe sanji can cut the rest of these oranges for us after!”

he sends you a wink before running off again yelling at the rest of the crew to not eat all the meat. you sigh restlessly and fall back letting the book drape over your face ignoring sanji’s love cries for you the join them. luffy’s incredibly unpredictable.

note. this has been sitting in my drafts for too long & i haven’t posted anything in so long so might as well.

#juliewrites #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece drabble #luffy fluff #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy fanfic #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #one piece

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year ago

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The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin�� for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #the parent trap #parent trap #parent trap Bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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realdramalove69 · 7 months ago

Text

Part 3 of Back to Back to Back Pregnancy

Anna may have only been five months into her sixth pregnancy but she looked and felt months overdue. Every step was slow and concentrated, her focus on keeping herself upright and steady as she carried her babies to their high chairs and bassinets for their morning bottles. Two babies were already latched to her, her breasts constantly leaking as her children cried for their breakfast.

Around her, many more toddlers and children bounced and ran around, constantly running in Anna’s blind spots, her belly concealing most of her field of vision. She grunted as she sat heavily on the couch, her belly needing to be set on an ottoman so she could find some form of comfort and relief. As the babies finished eating, one of the new nannys Dave hired quickly placed another where their sibling had been.

True to his word, Dave hired four nanny’s to help Anna care for their exponentially growing family. In spite of the extra help, Anna was still determined to stay in her feet and care for her kids. Whether she was trying to prove a point to herself or Dave she wasn’t yet sure, but the idea of being confined to her bed made her anxious. She knew it was bound to happen (she was already struggling to move from kitchen to living room), but having control over some of her life was important to her. She didn’t want to become a baby factory, despite the fact she had already pumped out 51 kids in less than six years.

The brood within her kicked roughly as she felt a couple of her five year olds slap the front of her stretched belly.

“Boys,” Anna grunted. “Boys please don’t you’re making your brothers and sisters unhappy.”

“But mama,” one of the boys replied. “Your belly sounds like a drum.” He slapped it again as a nanny came and corralled them away to the dining room for breakfast before school.

Dave took his time coming down the stairs from getting ready, the screams and cries of his many children making him smile. When he reached the first floor he stood in the doorway of the living room and stared at his fecund wife. She sat there, overflowing from the couch, her thighs as thick as tree trunks and her arms flabby from excess food she was eating. Her eyes were closed as the babies continued to suck on her milk filled breasts. They looked like soft pillows but Dave knew they were firm and sore.

But nothing compared to her belly. It stretched five feet from her torso, her belly button flush with her tight and stretch marked skin. Dave could see from here his many babies moving inside of her, their feet and hands pressing, as though they were trying to escape the confines of her cramped womb.

Anna moaned in discomfort. Breastfeeding always made the babies in her belly more active and with 13 babies needing to be fed the litter in her womb were constantly moving. Dave walked over and massaged her belly, his hands pressing on the large babies within her.

“Dave please,” Anna huffed. “There’s so little room in there.”

In spite of her pleas her stomach betrayed her as it growled with hunger.

“Sounds like someone’s not full enough yet,” Dave replied, an evil smile on his face. “Tanya?”

One of the nanny’s, a young blond woman in her 20s, came into the living room.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens?” Tanya replied.

“Bring my wife her breakfast. And she’s not to move until she finishes. We need to make sure she feeds these growing babies.”

“Of course, Mr. Stevens.” Tanya went back into the kitchen and a moment later came back with a cart filled with food. Pancakes, French toast, waffles, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast with butter, a whole gallon of milk and a pitcher of orange juice, plus a tray of pastries and fruit.

Anna rubbed her growling stomach, the feeling of being overfull quickly being replaced by a ravenous hunger. Her babies responded in kind, kicking her aggressively until the first plate was placed on her chest and she gave in to her cravings.

“Eat up, babe,” Dave said as he rubbed her belly. “I have to get to a meeting but I’ll be home before dinner tonight.”

“Mhm,” Anna grunted, too focused on her meal and nursing her babies to reply to her husband.

Dave loved how much the babies were taking over her brain and body, her mind was always focused on gestating even if she didn’t realize it. The formula Dave mad had worked beautifully and he had big plans for it at work.

Anna barely registered that her husband had left her once again to care for their children, but she at least had help this time. And now that her older kids were starting school it would start to get easier as well.

“Mrs. Stevens the babies are all down for the nap and the elder kids are off to school.” Tanya came back to clean up the breakfast Anna had finished in record time. “Would you like anything else?”

Anna waved her off. “No, thank you. I just need to start getting to my chores for the day.”

Tanya watched as the overly fecund woman shifted her weight forward, attempting to heave herself up onto her trembling feet. Anna reached under her gut and lifted herself off the ottoman, letting it hit the soft carpet so she could roll on her stomach and stand up.

“M-Mrs. Stevens!” Tanya stammered. “Please, let us handle things you don’t need to be on your feet in your condition!”

Anna grunted, sweat dripping down her face as she pushed her hands into her lower back and lifted her belly off the ground. She wobbled for a moment before finding her center of gravity again. She took a few steps towards the kitchen, Tanya following.

“I’m fine,” Anna grunted. “I can take care of my house.”

In spite of Tanya and the other nanny’s assurances of help, Anna insisted on doing her chores and taking care of the children. She accepted she could no longer cook or do dishes with her belly in the way, but she could still do laundry, sweep, and take care of her babies.

Slowly she would waddle around, a baby always in one arm and her other occupied with sweeping or trying to fold clothing. After an hour of trying to clean the kitchen she finally sat in a wide wooden chair, the legs of it creaking as she tried to give her feet a moment of relief.

“Ooh, please stop kicking mommy while she’s trying to work,” Anna whined. She couldn’t reach the kicking storm at the front of her belly.

Before she could get up and get back to cleaning, the nanny’s came in with the hungry babies, ready to feed again. And so Anna’s day went on, feeding and changing diapers between loads of never ending laundry and picking up after her kids.

Soon enough it was dinner time and Dave was home once again, bounding into the dining room where his gravid wife was nursing while trying to eat a plate of spaghetti. The nanny’s were fighting with the other kids, trying to get them to eat as they cried and threw food.

Dave kissed his kids on the head as he made his way to his wife, eager to share the good news.

“You’re home,” Anna said. “Can you take these two and hand me the girls.”

Dave grabbed the two oversized infants off her chest and replaced them with another pair. Anna shifted them into a comfortable position on her stomach before returning to the never ending plate of pasta on her chest.

“I have some news,” Dave said. “The higher ups at work liked the results of the new fertility treatments I’ve been working on and they gave me a grant to start human trials.”

“That’s great news!” Anna feigned interest. She hated Dave’s work, knowing how focused he was on her and her hyper fertile womb. She could tell where this was going to go and she knew she was powerless to say no.

“I want you to be in the human trials.”

Anna stopped eating, even though her babies still wanted the food. She looked up at her husband and saw the almost sadistic smile on his face.

“Dave I—“

“Think about it,” he continued, a craze look in his eye. “And we’ll talk before bed.”

He kissed her belly many times before grabbing his plate of food and sitting with his children.

Anna took her time getting the kids down for bed, dreading the conversation that was to come. Eventually she waddled down the tight hallway to her bedroom, her wife hips and belly brushing the sides of the already widened door frame.

“I’ll have to call the contractor to get the doors widened again,” Dave said as he watched his wife walked towards their bed.

He was transfixed by her as she struggled to get into the bed, having to hoist her belly onto the mattress before crawling into her seated position in her nest of pillows. Dave watched her belly rise and fall as she struggled to catch her breath, the infants pressing on her lungs.

“I love you like this.” Dave rubbed her belly. “You’re the most fertile woman in the world and I want to see you push yourself further.”

“Dave please, I don’t think I can get bigger than this.”

“I have ways to help, don’t worry. I would never let you be hurt. I love you.”

“You love this!” Anna shook her womb as she cried. “You love my womb and my belly you don’t love me.”

Dave put his arms around Anna the best he could, brushing his hands through her tangled brown hair, kissing her gently.

“Anna I love you and your womb. I love that you gave me a family and I love how much you care for our kids. You’re the most amazing woman ever and I want to help you become even more amazing.”

Anna wasn’t completely sold by Dave’s words of kindness. She looked down at her belly and thought of her many other children, the choice made for her.

“I’ll do it.”

#multiples #preggo kink #pregnancy #pregnant #hyperpregnancy #plus size preggo #preg #pregnant stories #hpreg #hyperpreg

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machveil · 1 month ago

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seeing that you're also 19 healed something in me bc same bestie, I'm glad we're both feral slightly unhinged 19 year olds living life

I’m out here having a grand ol’ time, man. thriving with CoD and König🎀✨

for my fellow under 21 gang and non drinkers, let me drop you some mocktails (NA cocktails) (also, some homemade syrup recipes), yeah? let’s get juiced up and have a cozy night in besties

Moscow Mule:

1 oz. fresh lime juice, 1 oz. Honey & Ginger Syrup*, 6 oz. ginger beer

pour your ingredients into a cup (recommended copper mug, but bitch, I’m not fancy enough for that), fill it with crushed ice, and gently stir

optional to garnish with a lime wedge and fresh mint

*you can make homemade Honey & Ginger Syrup!!

2 cups honey, 2 cups water, 2 2/3 oz. fresh ginger (minced), 3 oz. fresh orange juice

all of your ingredients go into a blender, puree until it’s smooth

strain the syrup before using it, can be stored in the fridge

Strawberry & Basil Lemonade:

1 oz. Basil Syrup*, 2 oz. iced strawberry tea, 1 oz. fresh lemon juice, 1 teaspoon 10 Percent Saline Solution**

all ingredients go in a cocktail shaker, fill it two-thirds with ice, shake that shit until it’s chilled

strain it over a glass with ice, you can garnish it with fresh basil

*Basil Syrup, babes

1 cup water, 1 cup sugar, 12 fresh basil leaves

get your water in a saucepan and bring her to a boil

add your sugar and stir til it dissolves

stir in your basil, take your pan off the heat, let your syrup cool

strain before using it, it’s good to be stored in a fridge

**10 Percent Saline Solution

1 oz. salt, 10 oz. warm water, mason jar

easy stuff, put your salt in the jar and add your water

stir it, let it cool, use it or store it friends

Into the Woods:

1 oz. black cherry juice, 2 oz. chai concentrate, 3 oz. cold-brew coffee, 1 oz. Vanilla Syrup*, 2 dashes of El Guapo Chicory Pecan bitters

all your ingredients go into a cocktail shaker, fill it two-thirds with ice, shake it like it owes you money (or until it’s chilled)

strain over crushed ice into your glass

*Vanilla Syrup recipe? I think so

1 cup water, 2 cups sugar, 1 vanilla bean

pour your water into a small saucepan and gring her to a boil

add your sugar and stir til it dissolves, take the pan off the heat

cut your bean in half and scrape the seeds into your syrup. cut the bean pod into thirds and add that to the syrup. stir it, cover the pan, let it sit at room temp for twelve hours

strains the syrup through a cheesecloth before using or refrigerating

cheers to König, friends and freaks, mwah🌸✨

#blog stuff #blog lore #mocktails #mocktail recipe #drink recipe #recipes #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty

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mrpuzzlessimp420 · 9 months ago

Text

Mario Simulator (Joke Fic)

Chapter 1

Ships: Marware, BatteryAcid (Mr Puzzles x Orange Juice), SMG34 (minor)

Mushroom Akademi was your normal pseudo-japanese highschool and Mario was a normal student.

He had... awful as shit grades because he didn't concentrate in class (god I wish I was that carefree ) and had a decent enough reputation, expect for that one incident where he was caught... you don't want to know what he was caught doing.

Anyway, Mario was normal.

He awoke to his loud two trucks alarm and started to get ready for the day. Putting on his highschool girl uniform that definitely did not look like the sailor scout uniform, not brushing his teeth and grabbing a plate of spaghetti to eat.

He quickly checked his phone to see that it was... 8 a'clock??? He was going to be late and get told of by SMG4 because of it!

Spaghetti plate still in hand, he rushed out the door, trying his best not to trip and be a clutz like he always is.

He eventually arrived at the school, only 2 minutes late and ran to his class, before realising he had no clue where he was going and had to check his timetable, which he also realised he lost like 5 months ago.

After 10 minutes of searching for his class, he finally found it and sat down in his seat, absolutely exhausted, spaghetti plate still in hand.

"Mario? You're late again? This is the 20th time this week! You know what I don't care, just don't be a nuisance like yesterday." Karen stated, not giving a crap about Mario because she is a girlboss, a legend and the moment.

The lesson went surprisingly quickly as the entire time Mario was finishing of his spaghetti or talking to SMG4 about memes or some cringey shit like that.

When the lesson and 2nd period was over, it was finally break.

Mario ran to say hello to his friends before a figure caught his eye.

The figure was a tall, handsome TV head giving out audition leaflets for a school play, rather dramatically you could say... and pathetically as he was literally on his hands and knees begging one student to join, a crying baby face replacing his normal emotes on his TV head.

Mario's heart skipped a beat. Oh how he had fallen for this TV head for the past couple of months. Yeah he tried to mind-control his friends to force them to preform in a everlasting play but that was ages ago. Honestly, Mario was down bad for him, his patheticness, his passion for the arts, his dramatic nature. I mean he was even good to look at, I mean look at those cables and wires (bro 😭) .

"Mario? MARIO!"

Mario finally snapped out of his god damn solioquy and lovestruck pinning just to be faced with a very annoyed SMG4.

"Where you even listening to anything I said?" SMG4 asked, pissed that Mario hadn't been listening for the 100th time this week.

"Uhhhh..." Mario said before saying the most, disgusting, revolting thing you ever have seen that had to be censored for the sake of EVERYONE'S sanity.

"What? No??? I was explaining the entire FNAF lore." SMG4 explained like the cringe pathetic loser he is.

"I honestly still don't get it." Meggy stated

"I do." SMG3 stated, with lovestruck eyes that told everyone in the room that he did not understand anything SMG4 just said and just liked to hear SMG4's voice

"Ha ha Gayyyyyy!" Mario shouted before being punched in the face by SMG3

"Shut Up! You like Mr Puzzles!!!" SMG3 declared, deflecting Mario's accusation back onto Mario.

"That's because he's-" Mario was once again censored by the Great Fanfic Writer in the sky who didn't want to write out the disgusting thing Mario just said about Mr Puzzles

"We.. didn't need to know that but anyway what was I on about again?" SMG4 asked, forgetting his entire lore dump he just did a few minutes before hand.

"You were on about the lore of FNAF?" SMG3 stated, looking back at SMG4 with eyes that were screaming with 'I love you so much, I want to hear your voice all the time, we are friends, we are literally soulmates made for each other, I would literally die and kill for you.'

"Oh yeah!" SMG4 was a oblivious idiot and didn't notice SMG3's obvious pinning "Anyway Foxy Bro killed his own brother or some shit and got really depressed ig, couldn't be me"

SMG4 went on to ramble about FNAF again but Mario got bored immediately. Why would anyone care about a Purple Guy and some dead children? The lore was way to complex for Mario's stupid little brain anyway, he couldn't even count to 10 let alone remember all of that.

Mario's focus went back to the pathetic Vox look-alike and sighed lovely.

He was perfect to Mario. Absolutely perfect. Though he was a bumbling idiot and still not fully redeemed, he was harmless and Mario knew he could fix him.

Mr Puzzles was now acting like that desperate clinging to a student to get them to join didn't happen and was still handing out leaflets for the audition.

Maybe Mario could audition? It's not like he had anything better to do with his life other than eat spaghetti and annoy SMG4 24/7. And it gave him the excuse to hang out with the handsome TV head.

Before Mario could think any longer, a new character appeared on screen and jokely spooked Mr Puzzles, which caused Mr Puzzles to jump and move his hands dramatically like a primary schooler trying way to hard in a poorly done school play.

Mario immediately didn't like this new figure. How dare they spook their one and only true love? And be friendly with him? (Damn Mario just let him have friends, he needs them desperately)

The figure was tall, taller than Mr Puzzles in fact which was a surprise, and extremely buff, looking like that one yaoi art base (you know the one). His head was replaced with a glass of orange juice which for some reasons had eyes on it, like working eyes. Mario didn't question it though as the canonical SMG4 universe was already lacking of lore on how the fuck Mr Puzzles is alive after he cut his head off.

"Awww, did I scare you pookie bear? I'm sorry~!" the figure said, kissing his lover on the check loving.

"I-It's okay OJ-Kun! You just scared me a little that's all." Mr Puzzles said, extremely flustered and shy now out of no where, acting like a uwu soft twink.

Mario was seething with anger. Mr Puzzles had a lover? A boyfriend? This was not okay. Only Mario could be his boyfriend and if he couldn't, then no one could.

An idea popped into Mario's head, quite surprising as he probably didn't have any braincells left.

A very... unique idea.

You see, there was something actually... unnormal about Mario.

He was what you would call...

A yandere.

(part 2 when??? Lol)

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leiascully · 4 months ago

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wait wait wait leiascully… a Syzygy fic request??????😱 Your Ice rec was fantastic. If there’s anyone who can write an angry fuck, it’s you!

Okay bet. Click at your own risk for 2k of the most hateful sex I can write between these two (or read it on AO3)

He expected Scully knocking on the door to his motel room. She was pissed at him. She’d want to talk it out, the way she usually did, rehashing every detail like she was a prosecutor and he was guilty, guilty, guilty. He opened the door to her anyway. He told himself it was because she’d just be pissier tomorrow if he didn’t, but some small part of him clamored for the fight. What he didn’t expect was for her to kick the door closed behind her and shove him up against the wall.

“What’s happening right now?” he asked as she unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of the loops.

“You’re shutting the fuck up for once,” she said.

“Are you going to make me?” he asked, hackles and dick up immediately.

“Yeah, I am,” she said, and then his pants were around his ankles and his dick was in her mouth.

To her credit, he shut up. Her hot little tongue flicked over his head with a professional flair. He decided not to tell her that. He wasn’t sure she’d take it as a compliment. She had one hand squeezing the base of his dick and the other cradling his balls and she was on her knees on the disgusting motel carpet and he’d never expected any of this. He could still feel the burn of concentrated orange juice and cheap vodka in his gut, but that heat was quickly subsumed by the fucking fire in his loins as Scully licked up and down his shaft.

Fuck, he was going to come way too fast if she kept this up. He tangled his hand in her hair, tugged her head back. She looked up at him with smoldering blue eyes, disdain in the set of her eyebrows. It made him want to hold her head between his palms and fuck her mouth until she gagged on him, but instead he took a step to the side. His dick slid out of her mouth, a string of saliva and pre-come connecting her lips and his head. She licked it away deliberately.

“What do you want, Scully?” he asked her. His voice was rough. It made him sound angrier than he was. Good.

“I want you to fuck me raw,” she said conversationally. “If you’re going to dick me over, you might as well deep-dick me. Unless you haven’t got the stamina.” God, she knew exactly how to get under his skin.

“I can go as long as you need,” he countered. “I just didn’t expect you to suck dick with such expertise.”

“I went to Catholic school,” she said, and fuck, the thought of that inspired a whole slew of images. His dick twitched in her grasp. She smirked. He let go of her hair and grabbed her arms, pulling her to her feet. Now he was the one pushing her against the wall and dropping to his knees, shoving her skirt up and dragging her panties down. She was still buying those high-cut granny panties, he noticed. A little too prim and proper for someone with Scully’s mouth. He nipped at the inside of her knee as he took her panties all the way off, tossing them onto his open suitcase. He left her heels on.

He pushed his arms between her legs to spread them, one hand cupping each ass cheek. She was gasping even before he shoved his face into the curls at the V of her thighs, his tongue questing for her clit. She was already wet. Maybe she’d been pre-gaming in her own room, her fingers between her thighs as she thought about him fucking her over.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, taunting her with his tongue. She groaned, the sound lower than he’d expected. It rasped over his nerves on some primal level. He squeezed her ass, keeping his hands occupied so he didn’t stroke himself off. He was so hard he was aching. He could feel her spit drying on his skin. God, he was going to come all over the carpet if he didn’t distract himself. He licked into her, deeper and faster, his whole face pressed into her pussy.

She tasted so goddamn good. He drank her down like he was some motherfucking pussy sommelier: notes of citrusy tang balanced by the musk of a long day’s sweat. He licked her clean, swallowing every drop. She writhed against the wall, gripping her skirt in both hands. Her hips rolled until he had to pin her with one arm. She wasn’t going to get off that easily. Not after the fucking day they’d had. Every interaction had rubbed him the wrong way, friction building between them until this, the inevitable conclusion. He sucked her clit hard to make her gasp.

“Wait,” she said.

He stopped, sitting back on his heels. He was pissed as hell, but he wasn’t an asshole.

“I want you inside me when I come,” she said, fisting her hand in his hair.

“Then you better start thinking about baseball,” he said, burying his face in her folds again. He’d stop if she told him to stop. But god damn if he was going to play this game by her rules. He spread her wider, tonguefucked her until her legs were trembling. He rubbed his cheeks up and down the inside of her thighs; her skin turned pink from the rasp of his stubble and he kissed it, then pulled at it with his lips and teeth. She’d have beard burn and hickeys to remember this by. When she was keening, her fingers clutching at his head, he licked at her clit again.

Even mad as hell, he knew how to read her. He took her to the edge, over and over again, trying to tip her over into losing herself. She took his tongue and his fingers, opening for him as he plunged into her, shivering with need, and somehow brought herself back from the brink every time.

“Fuck me,” she said, but he wouldn’t, not until she begged. When she dragged him away from her pussy, he leaned into her, pressing his thigh between hers, and she rubbed herself off against him like she was helpless. His cock was pressed against her belly and it was driving him fucking crazy to feel her skin slick with sweat and his fluids. He didn’t have condoms; he hadn’t anticipated anything like this. It was a good fucking thing that she was on birth control, because nothing on this earth was going to stop him from coming inside her if that was what she wanted, but she was going to wait until he was good and ready.

“Come for me,” he urged.

“I’m not,” she gasped. “I won’t.”

“So fucking stubborn,” he told her.

“I want you inside me,” she said again.

“What for?” he asked. “You got teeth in there? Gonna bite my dick off?”

She smirked. “Maybe. Isn’t that what Detective White wanted to do?”

“We didn’t get that far,” he said, shoving his thigh against her. He could feel her clit throbbing against the hard muscle of his quad. “Somebody interrupted.”

“God, Mulder,” she gasped as he nipped under her jaw. “Just fuck me.”

“Ask nicely,” he said, undoing her shirt buttons so that he could work her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

“Please fuck me,” she said, rolling her eyes. It wasn’t the begging he’d wanted, but he couldn’t take not being inside her anymore. He put one hand under her ass and lifted her, the other hand guiding his dick into her. She made a noise like she’d seen God. She was so fucking tight, her muscles already clutching around him. Her legs locked around his hips. He moved in her slowly, trembling from the effort of holding himself back. She raked her nails up his back, goading him, but he set a steady pace, thrusting up into her but not pounding her against the wall.

He wanted to last at least a few minutes, though given everything they’d already done, it wasn’t going to be a marathon session. Most of all, he didn’t want to give her what she wanted, not right away. She wanted to come on his dick? She’d have to wait until he was good and ready to make her come. He pinned her wrists above her head with his free hand to keep her from touching herself. She retaliated by sucking at a sensitive spot on his neck that made him hiss between his teeth.

“Stop distracting me,” he growled.

“Do something about it,” she breathed in his ear and he turned his face and kissed her. Her mouth opened for him the way her legs had, immediately welcoming him, her tongue pushing against his like she wanted to fight. He let her draw him in. God, everything about her was hot and wet and electric. He loved the way she refused to give in, even when it was irritating as hell. She moaned into his mouth and it made his hips jolt. She moaned again, a guttural sound of pure need, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He gripped her hips with his free hand and pounded up into her. Her arms fell to his neck, her fingers running frantically through his hair and over his shoulders.

He could feel her body tensing. She was probably sensitive as hell now, and he was probably stretching her, but she took him like a trooper and asked for more. He pounded deeper, changing the angle just a little, and she cried out in pleasure. He could feel her balancing on the brink. For a split second, he thought about pulling out and leaving her unsatisfied, but she opened her eyes and looked at him and he gave her everything she wanted, the way he’d always wanted to. He felt every second of her orgasm: tension pulling tight until her body twanged with it, a slow shiver that built and built until it shook her to pieces around him.

He managed to hold off his own pleasure just long enough to fuck her through the last spasms of her inner muscles, but the noises she made took him to the edge. He wrapped his free arm around her, carried her to the bed, and fucked her into the mattress as she urged him on. He couldn’t see her the way he wanted to. He rolled them over, propped his back against the headboard. She rode him, bearing down hard. She looked down at him, her eyes haughty but dreamy. And then he was coming, shuddering into her, his gaze locked with hers. An alignment. Everything in exactly the right place. He shoved into her in one last spasm and her eyes drifted closed. She was smiling.

She was straddling his lap, still wearing her shirt and her skirt. He’d left his pants behind. He toed off his socks as she unbuttoned his shirt and traced circles around his tight nipples. He could feel their combined wetness on her thighs. She rocked idly over him.

“Insatiable,” he said, failing to keep the fondness out of his voice.

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “I think I’ve had quite enough of you.” But she was still shifting back and forth against his hip. Syzygy, he thought. An alignment that might never occur again, something he couldn’t explain. But God knew it was a more productive way to resolve their differences than most of their other arguments.

“How’d you do it?” he asked, breathing hard. “Keep from coming?”

“Thought about how much I hate the way you file our case reports,” she said. “Did you ever learn the alphabet, Mulder?”

He laughed. “Fuck you.”

“You definitely don’t have the stamina,” she said, trailing her palm over his softened dick.

“I don’t need my dick to fuck you,” he said, as if she didn’t know.

“Prove it,” she challenged, and he undid her with his fingers and tongue, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her until his dick came to attention again.

“You know you’re going to have to fuck me every time you want to prove a point now,” he said as she settled down onto him with a groan of satisfaction. He had finally gotten her shirt off and he took advantage of the way her tits bounced right in front of her face to suck her nipple into his mouth.

“What a sacrifice,” she said, and rode him until neither of them had anything else to say.

#leiascully fic #my fic #msr fic #xfiles fanfic #this is grown and sexy content okay

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cazzyf1 · 9 months ago

Text

James Hunt with his budgie collection

An article about it under the cut

Last weekend, I found myself at the World Budgerigar Championships, held at Doncaster race course. My guide was James Hunt, world motor racing champion for the 1976 season and of late an ardent breeder of budgerigars: greens, grey- greens, sky blues, dominant pieds and the like. In return for carrying my share of his nine chosen birds in and out of the hall he would transport me from Flood Street to Doncaster and back again. We put our budgies under wraps in the Estate boot and drove north. As we drove, James ex- plained budgies, their infinite variety and perfections of type. Looking straight at a show budgie one should not be able to see the eyes; broad- ness of head is commendable, as is a steep lift to the plumage, a long straight back, sleek body and proud tail. The spots under the neck merit special attention. Usually there are six forming a broken ring but false spot feathers can emerge and these have to be tweezered out. Another area of concern is the head plumage, which can develop waxy quill feathers and blood specks.

Budgies moult in October. Doncaster, the most prestigious show of them all, is held annually in early November. It is therefore a race to bring them back into good condition. Ten days before James had visited a couple of top breeders and found their birds in a shocking state. He doubted that they would be ready in time. I commiserated with him on their behalf. We then moved on to the question of breeding. James only shows birds he has bred himself. His prize accolade so far is second place in the Beginner Breeder class at Blackpool, almost as big an event as the one we were heading for. Pairing takes place in late November, so he was absorbed with the permutations. After this season, his second in the budgie world, he intends to put it all on a computer prog- rammed by an acquaintance in the blood stock industry.

`It's like breeding racehorses, only cheaper,' he explained; 'a good budgie can sell for a thousand pounds, more to a German or Swede, not that I pay anything like that. The most so far is a hundred pounds.' James, like many self-made millionaires, is prouder of his caution about money than its possession. If he gets his pairings right this year, the basis will be laid for a first-class stud. Cock it up and he's back at square one.

The action takes place in his back garden, an acre and a half just off Wimbledon Common. As he travels heavily for the BBC during the motor racing season he has a curator, the correct word, of budgerigars. Indoor and outdoor flight pens give his birds the freedom and communion which he believes are essential to their development. Not all breeders agree, holding that show budgies are as far removed from their cousins who flock in the Australian out- back as those dying generations are to Yeat's artifice of hammered gold and gold enamelling. It was not a simile I tried on James as I wanted him to concentrate on the road.

`Under your feet are some supplies for the journey.' I had already heard the odd crackle and rustle. Sure enough, there were packets of crisps and chocolate, all now washed in a litre of orange juice that had spilt from its plastic bottle and in- formed the road map. I apologised for my ineptness, but there was worse to come. Throughout the journey, which was nearing completion in the Doncaster one-way system, James had fretted about his feather-pulling tweezers, hoping they were buried deep in a trouser pocket. This proved not to be the case. They had fallen between his seat and the doings of the German hydraulic system. His hand could not reach them with ease. I volunteered mine as being slimmer. He warned me that if the tweezers fell any further they would be unsalvageable, lost forever. In went my hand, down went the tweezers. 'That's very naughty, Napier. I told you to be careful and what do you do? Charge at it without any thought.' So my first task on reaching the Danum Hotel, Doncaster, was to ask the lady receptionist — still agog at matching her booking name of J.S.W. Hunt to the reality — for tweezers without which our budgies might as well stay in the boot. Thank God for Allens the all-night chemist and their range of broad-, slant-, and curved-headed tweezers at £1.29p a shot.

By the time I returned, James and the budgies were in my bathroom — smaller than his, so less problematic if one escaped. Two needed their heads washed free of quill wax and blood specks. A sky-blue cock had developed an extra spot feather. The tweezers were presented and found adequate. Deftly he probed to the base of the feather and pulled. Out it came and we both felt relieved. Washed and petted, the budgies, each in a black- enamelled portable showcase, looked their full importance. It was time for us to take them to the show where they would spend the night, be judged in the morning and thereafter open to public view.

A night on the town in Doncaster. In our second pub there was a fight. Three girls, about 18, fell to the ground, two tugging at hair while their friend inevitably paid the higher price for interfering. No one else made the same mistake. A pause for breath and acrimony, then back into the routine. The moment they decided that no man was worth such punishment the bouncers moved in and swept them out. Later in the evening we saw the three of them together enjoying a joke. The pub and club centre of Doncaster is small enough to walk round. We kept on seeing the same faces circling and finally asking for James's autograph with lines like 'I know who you are, at least my father does'. In London he barely incurs a glance. But at the night club, Rotters, we found our entrance barred by a further charm of bouncers. `Where do you come from, please, gentlemen? London? What, may I ask, are you doing in Doncaster?'

`We're up for the budgie show.' The door was flung open. Budgies are great levellers.

Next day, James admitted what I had already begun to suspect, that exhibiting budgies was far more exciting than winning a Grand Prix. 'After the first third of a race you usually know you can win, barring mechanical failure. With budgies the adre- nalin is there right up to the moment you walk in and see how you have done.' We walked in. Stretching the length of the Doncaster Race Hall were showcases in three tiered lines, nearly 6,000 entries in 392 classes. It took adrenalin-pumped minutes to find any class James had entered. The world became a clearer place, full of stewards in purple badges, men last seen in our hotel lift, now turned into awesome judges, serious punters in cloth caps with a jaunty budgie feather. The floor was covered in brown seed, scuffed by the birds out of their cages. We passed the cages of successful champions, surrounded by plush velvet boards and trios with red, blue and green rosettes on them and sometimes extra awards from provincial bodies affiliated to the Budgerigar Society. We passed classes with names like 'Recessive Pied Breeder Hens' and swatches of colour the like of which Scott Crolla only dreams. We overheard snatches of conversation: `That's a big bird, champion,' Not enough feather on the little blighter,' and men rattling bars to get the birds onto their perches for a better look or photograph.

At the far left of the hall we reached the Beginner Breeder section and the end of our quest was bitter disappointment. A fourth, a fifth, and two sixth places. Not one rosette to show for it all, let alone the Best Beginner Breeder trophy that had seemed possible.

`Bad luck, James, it's a bloody high- standard show. Nice looking birds, I must say. Wouldn't swop your one for anything but the winner.'

The commiserations in broad and know- ledgeable Yorkshire were far more effective than my plaintive twittering. James took his disappointment well: 'It's all good experience. I now know how good one's birds have to be, so good that there's no dispute.'

`So you'll be coming back then, James?'

`Certainly.'

#so wholesome what he got up to after racing #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #james hunt

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