#he says that too and how old do you have to be to join the police? (at least in japan)

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[mintmatcha]

Patrol goes as usual. His sidekicks have settled into the routine, waving to the usual vendors, accepting the little treats they offer. Kirishima has grown to be a popular face around here-- so has Tamaki, of course, but the little guy has a different charismatic charm. He's going to go far as a hero, Fatgum decides.

The crowds are thinner than usual; the weather is getting colder and the coats are getting thicker. Fatgum never really needs a coat. His weight keeps him warm all winter.

"Oh my god--" A voice cuts through the usual din. "It's him!"

A Red Riot fan: Fatgum giggles at the thought. Baby's first die-hard. It's cute--

Until he turns around and realizes you're much too old for that. Maybe even too old for Suneater.

"Hey there," He reflexively steps in front of his boys. Nothing bad would happen, of course, it's just instinct.

"Hi! Wow, hi!" It takes a moment for Fatgum to realize your attention is locked on him. That's... strange. His fans are usually younger. And boys. Not pretty women, certainly not ones that look like--

Tai's never considered himself a pretty guy. Strong, nice, but never attractive: he's huge. both in height and in weight. It's not exactly the thing women tend to look for-

But the way you flutter your eyelashes and twiddle your fingers makes him feel hot.// Both physically and temperature wise. God, he swears he's already broken into a sweat under the absolute heat of your gaze--

"Oh," Fatgum scratches his cheek as he tries to come up with something to say. His heart is going to give out under the attention, but he's trying to play it off. "Um, did you need something?

Your eyes go wide and he swears there's a literal sparkle in them as you push up on to your toes. It's barely shortened the distance between you two, but his face immediately goes hot at the gesture.

"Baby-" You smile into your words. "I need your number."

He chokes on his own spit.

Two other girls emerge from the crowd, each one grabbing at your arms. They're clearly your friends by the way to chastise you immediately, snapping your name a bit too loudly.

"We're so sorry about her-" one sighs. "Small town girl doesn't know how to act around heroes."

"She's just like this." The other rolls her eyes. "You're her 'hear me out.'"

"Guys-" your voice drops to a whisper. "Don't ruin this for me."

Tai -not Fatgum, but Taishiro- thinks he might pass out. It's been a long time since he's dated. A very, very long time since a girl made a move on him.

"I'm sorry-" He turns back to his sidekicks. Kirishima is beaming, but Tamaki looks like he's swallowed a frog; he's clammy and bright red, clearly upset at the interaction. Oh, Tamaki, Taishiro thinks, the feeling is mutual. He really shouldn't be taking advantage of fans... and he really shouldn't be doing it in front of his boys. "Forgive me, uh, I can't--"

Genuine disappointment on your face surprises him. You bow a little, taking a step back to join your friends.

"Oh, it's okay," you sigh. "Thank you for your time."

"So sorry about her--" One of your friends repeats. Before he can change his mind. you're rushed away by your embarrassed friends, who titter over the interaction.

"You're sooo cringe!" Someone whines at you disappear into the crowd. Tamaki lets out a relieved sigh, glad to have escaped without having to say anything at all.

"Whoa," Kirishima gapes. "Does that happen a lot?!"

"Maybe to Hawks!" Fatgum tries to wave it off, despite how his face burns. "I don't think that's ever happened to me before."

Or will ever happen again.

[toyboy-molloy]

"How do you feel, lad?"

Henry looked away from the newly married Sir Hans and Lady Jitka to Godwin. He was smiling sympathetically, understanding how Henry must feel but the blacksmith chuckled merrily, patting the priest's arm.

"I'm well, Godwin," Henry said honestly, looking back to Hans and Jitka. The lady was giddily chatting away whilst her new husband looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Henry smiled, "we decided to end whatever we had. It's better that way. Easier, you know."

Godwin nodded, sipping his wine, "so, what happened last night was..."

"The last time," Henry hissed insistently, looking around to make sure no one was listening. They really told Godwin far too much. "A goodbye."

"If you say so," Godwin drained his goblet, reaching for another, "I've got to say, I'll miss the indulgence fees."

Henry rolled his eyes, sarcastically adding, "ha ha."

Hans broke away from the throng of well wishers, seeking his salvation with Henry and Godwin. The priest bowed his head respectfully.

"I suppose congratulations are in order, Lord Capon."

"Thank you, Godwin," he said almost urgently, turning to Henry as casually as he could manage, "Henry, I have some urgent matters to discuss with you. Would you accompany me to my office?"

"Of course, sir."

Hans nodded once and hastily left his own wedding reception in the direction of his office. Henry finished his ale and replaced the empty tankard, realising Godwin was staring at him knowingly.

"What?" Henry waved a hand dismissively, scoffing, "come on, you really think we're going to shag on his wedding day with all these people in attendance?" Shaking his head, he slapped Godwin's back, "give me some credit, old friend."

Godwin watched him leave with a heavy sigh. He wouldn't see either of them again for a long while, having entirely forgotten they'd even left due to his increasingly inebriated state.

When they did finally return, Godwin watched. The young lord engaged with his guests enthusiastically, flitting between nobles shaking hands and drinking. Henry joined Godwin at the drinks table, pouring himself a large portion of wine. And Godwin waited. It didn't take long for Henry to wordlessly hand him a fat coin purse.

Godwin couldn't help but laugh as Henry cleared his throat, "the last time..."

[thethronezone]

How many kids do you think each primarch would have? 😭

I've seen another post on another blog (can't for the sake of me remember who it was and can't remember it in the moment, please someone tell me their name so I can link them) answering this very same question but I am going to give my own two cents about it.

Mortarion - One daughter and that's all he wants. Hell, he barely wanted a kid in the first place because he was terrified he would turn out to be just as bad of a father as both his adoptive one and the Emperor.

Fulgrim - An older son and a younger daughter that are pretty close in age (there's like a two year age difference between them). Fulgrim made them dress up in matching outfits when they were young.

Angron - Only one kid, probs a boy. Would secretly like to have another one but doesn't think that he'd be good enough of a parent to raise two kids when he can barely raise one.

Magnus - Triplet girls who form their own little coven and uses their psychic powers and magic for evil (aka stealing from the cookie jar).

Perturabo - Three daughters and one son. Much kinder to his daughters than he his to his son because his son reminds him too much of himself.

Alpharius - Another triplet situation but this time solely because I think it's funny to imagine Alpharius and Omegon being overwhelmed by there being an extra kid.

Lorgar - One child, a girl, that looks identical to him and the Emperor. The apple of Lorgar's eyes, his perfect little angel.

Horus - Six kids and counting because this man can't get enough of being a father. They are all spaced quite a few years apart because Horus prefers to have one little one to dote on at a time.

Konrad - Two kids, both were mistakes but happy ones. For Konrad at least. Older sister and younger brother who both scare the shit out of the Night Lords and serfs.

Sanguinius - One kid, a son that looks so much like him (wings and all) which the kid grows to lament as he gets older because the Blood Angels won't stop looking at him like he's his father.

Corvus - Mf has five kids and keeps going "This is the last one, I promise" and he's always lying. He keeps getting empty nest syndrome and can't help himself.

Ferrus - Twins, a boy and a girl and they are both fucking nerds with a shared special interest in machines. Son becomes a space marine, the daughter joins the mechanicus.

Rogal - Four children, two sons and two daughters. A good, stable number. He is very proud of all of them and gives them equal attention.

Vulkan - Five kids but wants more because he loves being a family man and he gets intense empty nest syndrome the moment a kid is too old for him to baby.

Lion - One son and that's it. He's a "quality over quantity" kinda man and he invests a lot of time and effort into turning his son into a worthy heir.

Leman - Smh, nine or something like that. Man can't stop having kids. He ain't even doing it consciously, it just happens and he goes "Heh, neat".

Jaghatai - One son and two older daughters who are all very close to each other. The young son trails after his older sisters and do everything they say because he thinks they are so cool.

Roboute - One kid, a daughter, but he does want more. He refrains however because he's so busy with his duties that he barely has time to spend with the child he has and he does not want to bring another child in only for them to feel neglected.

[glowstick-cafe]

Nostalgia gets the Best of Us

Elijah "Smoke" Moore, Elias "Stack" Moore x Black!Female!Reader

⚠️MDNI⚠️//Content: smut, mentions of religion in passing, cunnilingus, PiV

Word count:2,197

"You've been gone since 2023” God forbid I show support for my people in their time of need 😒

Ao3 link ver.

After a day of hard work a lady often just wants to have fun and dance the night away, is that so much to ask for?

Word quickly spread through Mississippi overnight of a new club that was owned by a pair of infamous twins—it couldn't be. Club Juke, your friends said the name was, how cute.

As you walked up to the rustic looking building there was a long line of people waiting to be let in, music from the inside of the club reverberated through your ears just begging you to join in on the fun.

You were going to walk right in without a care until the unsure call of your name made you turn your head.

The familiar voice brought a smile to your lips, “Damn girl! Where you been? Haven't seen yer face since you moved away for that fancy job.” Spoke Cornbread. Honestly, you were delighted to see an old familiar face.

“Oh please, you never catch me when I visit.” You huffed in a playful frustration, but before you could carry on your conversation the line of people behind you hurled bouts if complaints your way, cutting the reunion with your old friends short. Cornbread clicked his tongue and sent you on in.

“The twins are in for a treat when they see you.” The heavy-set man chuckled to himself and shook his head as you kept pushing further into the club, unaware of the band of old faces you would be seeing.

You managed to move through the crowd in sync with the music, body swaying in tandem with the tune.

Spotting your friends in the distance, a smile made its way to your face—happy to finally be surrounded by the people you actually came here to party with; but as luck would have it, the wind was suddenly knocked out of you when a man who was dancing crashed his back into you.

Before you could fall over, a man in a blue suit came to your aid, his hand placement seemed awfully friendly but you were too disoriented to comment on it; only focusing on how harshly he berated the man for simply having two left feet.

“If you don't watch where you steppin’ on the young lady then I think we're gonna have a problem.” He threatened. The poor man nodded his head to show his understanding of the situation and booked it to the other side of the room as fast as the booming crowd allowed.

“Now, enjoy yourself lil’ lady.” He laughed, now removing his arm from your waist only to move them to your shoulders.

“Who do you think yer’ callin’-” You were about to give a smart response, but held your tongue when you finally made eye contact with your hero.

A flash of recognition glazed over his eyes, while a look of mortification graced yours. You’re sure he could feel the goosebumps on your skin when your name left his mouth.

“Smoke…”

Seeing the man in front of you could only mean that his other half couldn't be far away, which wouldn’t bode well for you if they both got their hands on you.

Smoke said your name again, this time it made you flinch and all the childhood memories of puppy love and broken promises came baring its claws at you.

Oh the Smoke-Stack twins, if people were to pick out the type of crowd the twins usually tend to draw in, you probably wouldn’t be their go-to guess—but some would say you were in the right place at the right time, or that you were just really unlucky; but something that couldn't be debated among anyone back then was that those boys cherished you.

-

A pastor's daughter and regular church goer, that's what all the grown folks would refer to you as, never truly by your name.

Growing up, your father and everyone who knew him spoke ill of the pair of twins who would often be finding themselves in trouble.

Don't get mixed up in company like that…

You told yourself, but unfortunately that prayer seemed to have fallen on deaf ears seeing as how the trouble found you instead. The twins seemed to have been drawn in by all the alarm bells that were meant to actually keep them away.

Once the boys got their hand on you, the three of you made for an interesting group, if anything, the adults thought that maybe you were just the right influence they needed to steer them on the right track—Unfortunately for them, this ended up having the opposite effect.

To be fair, you were never rude to those who showed you respect, but the twins’ ‘Don't take shit from anyone’ attitude rubbed off on you hard.

Stack seemed more receptive to your usual kind nature and would often let you have your way with him, even letting their dreams of moving to Chicago slip out, but the other brother was the one who forced you to develop a sharp tongue; Smoke's jabs often bordered on scathing to just actual bullying.

When you finally matched his energy the boy was at a loss for words, just gave a click of the tongue and a, “Whatever man…” Smoke wouldn’t admit it but he was a little proud of you for a split second, just minus Stacks’ frame doubled over in laughter.

Tender moments were few and far between when is came to them, but in the off chance they let you near their hair; a matching set of conrows would send you over the moon. It was your idea of bonding and also one of the rare moments where Smoke never had anything to comment on.

You’d like to think you both found common-ground on those days.

So why were you so mad to see him after all these years?

There weren't any signs of a falling out brewing. Just an abrupt departure that left you torn; everyone around you said ‘It's for the best.’ or that you should ‘Let it go…’ but it took years to get over being abandoned like that.

No letter.

No goodbye

Nothing…

-

You were honestly surprised that you remembered their faces after all these years.

Blinking those memories away, your mortified expression turned into anger. “You've gotta be kiddin’ me, you n’ your brother run off to Chicago doin’ God knows what, then you two turn back up with a place like this after the state you both left me in?!”

“So you're not happy to see us?” Stack questioned, inserting himself into the conversation.

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, these men haven't changed, they're still the same smug little boys who left you in the dust for Chicago.

“Look now, we know how we left things wasn't…ideal but—we all grown up now.” Stack spoke, stationed himself behind you while his hand found its way to your waist. “We can handle this like adults.” His words echoed through the covers of your mind.

There was no denying the twins were attractive physically and their personalities had their own appeal to it, you would know, you grew up with them.

You'd be stupid to deny that you hadn’t thought about them in a romantic sense, but you were a grown woman now; you didn't have to unpack resurfacing emotions that you may have had toward your childhood friends.

Your eyes looked up to Smoke to see how he was taking the situation. His hands seemed casually nestled in his pockets while his pupils searched for an answer in yours, he motions a questioning head tilt as if to say, ‘Well?’

The music and surroundings seemed to slow as you looked around. “Fine…” You agreed, you hoped that you hadn’t sounded too eager, but you don't miss the subtle smile on Smoke's lips as you were being directed into what you were sure was a closet.

The twins sat you on a small table in the oddly spacious closet, it was already risky in your eyes to have been seen with the two, but whatever they were planning to do would have the town in hysterics for months to come.

One hand around your neck, and the other gripped both your thighs. The twins couldn't let you slip away like you always did, they had to have you this time.

Stack hiked up the skirt of your dress, he flashed you a charming smile as he looked up at you from between your legs. It left you feeling hot and embarrassed, yet he hadn't even laid a finger on you yet.

Smoke held your arms in place as Stack began to indulge himself in your dripping folds, his tongue borrowed itself into your slick hole as you managed out a moan.

“Let it out mama.” Smoke encouraged as his mouth made its home on your neck; leaving hickeys and spit wherever he saw fit while his free hand found its way to groping your breasts.

You were being overloaded on pleasure from every angle and all Smoke was doing was taunting you like he always did, “What was all that noise back there for, hmm?” His low, but playful voice teased as he pinched and squeezed at your nipple.

His hand then moved up to your mouth, fingers playing and prodding with your lips. “Did princess just need our attention?” Smoke was always great at getting people riled up, this instance was no different; the man's digits forced its way into your mouth, rings n’ all.

“Suck.” He commanded, and suck you did. The man could only scoff playfully at your obedience, it was clear to both twins that you could melt in their hands at any moment.

The more Stack nibbled and licked at your cunt, the more whiny and desperate your moans became, the more you rocked your hips to the rhythm of the man's mouth.

“Easy girl…” Stack spoke between your legs, his grip on your thighs tightening as if to hold you in place.

You send a hum of protest through Smoke's fingers at the brother who seemed to be getting off on your cries of pleasure.

“What, cat got ya’ tongue?” Stack laughed as he zoned back in on his main goal.

The deeper he sank his mouth into your slit, the closer you got to the edge. Your body writhed against his tongue as one of your hands broke free and made its way to the back of his head, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Fuck…

At this rate you were gonna-

Your body froze as the shock of your orgasm washed over your body, for a moment you swore the party going on outside ceased to exist. Stack removed himself from between the space in your legs, looking quite pleased with himself; the man flashed a smile at you, showing off his grillz.

Before you could catch your breath, the two brothers switched places and now Stack was behind while Smoke was right in front of you.

“You didn't think we were done with you, right princess?” Stack said, an amused grin graced his face as the sound of belts unbuckling made your breath hitch.

If it weren’t for the table holding you up, you know damn well that your knees would have given out.

Your face grew warmer as you felt Smoke gently push your legs apart, his length resting against your thighs. “If it gets too much, tell me.” He stated in a stern manner before sinking his cock into your sex.

The action was so fast that Stack failed to quiet your shaky moans that grew louder as his brother mercilessly pounded into your cunt. The sound of skin slapping in tandem with each other filled the room.

Strings of curses waterfalled from your mouth that made Stack laugh, he made a joke about having a dirty mouth for a pastor's kid; but you would have to appreciate it later when you're not about pass out from sheer pleasure.

“P…Please, Elijah…make me cum!”

Smoke's cock twitched inside you at brief the mention of his name, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain that made him speed up.

You were nearing the finish line of your inevitable high, with each thrust you were sure your vision was making you see dots. The final nail in the coffin was when the man leaned into your ear to say, “God I missed you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut as the satisfaction of both your orgasms washed over you, and a content sigh escaped your lips as Smoke removed himself from between your legs and there's a beat of almost comfortable silence in the air, “I meant that, by the way.” Smoke spoke up, trying to make himself look decent again.

“How we left you back then, it had nothing to do with you.” Stack continued for his brother, “We were…just protecting you in a way we thought would help back then.”

You listened to their explanations as you slipped back on your dress. “I didn't need protection, I just wanted the two of you to be there.”

“We're here now.”

Saw yall were dying over here on tumblr so I decided to chip in and finish this fic lol

Btw I can't promise that this is my comeback era

[harringtonfeels]

family

4.6k | Fluff and a healthy dose of hurt/comfort | Stepdad!Steve x Reader | Kid fic | Fluff, Angst

When Reader spends Mother's Day feeling like she's failing as a parent and a partner, her boyfriend Steve helps change her perspective.

Notes: This is a little Mother's Day fic. Reader's kid is a ~4 year old named Henry (and I love him). Hurt/comfort is involving the general mom guilt when raising a kid post-divorce.

It hasn't been a bad day - well, not exactly. It's Mother's Day, and you were supposed to have the day off work but were called in to handle an emergency while your boss is away on vacation. You'd had plans for the day already and had to cancel almost all of them.

First was breakfast in bed, although that one had been a bit up in the air. Your son is at the age where, when he wakes up before you, he wants to climb right into your bed and sandwich himself between you and Steve, poking your arm and carefully prying open your eyelids until you wake up. Sleeping in isn't usually an option unless Steve gets up with him so you can enjoy some blessed sleep alone, so it was already highly dependent on what time Henry decided to get out of bed. Ultimately, not a huge loss, but it was a nice pipe dream, nonetheless.

Then, after nap time, you were supposed to have a picnic in the park, just you and your boys. Steve already prepped the food and got a cooler ready last night, and set aside everyone's swim clothes for the splash pad.

And then you were supposed to have a lowkey dinner at home with them, and a nice, long bath, too, if you were lucky.

Any of those things would have been more than enough. The weather's been beautiful this spring, and you've been so busy, you haven't been able to spend as much time with Henry on the weekends as you'd like. It's something you've been lamenting a lot lately. Your job requires a lot of you, a lot more than it used to. You took the job when you separated from your ex because you needed a way to provide for your son without relying on a marriage that just wasn't working anymore. But now, it's two years later, and the time is flying by, and you know the things you're missing with Henry are things you'll never get back. So you've been trying hard to cherish the time you do have with him. It's just nearly impossible to put the energy into it that you want to when you're constantly working overtime with no end in sight.

Steve has been a huge help the past year that you've been dating. He met Henry for the first time about six months in, and although Henry was shy at first, they've been thick as thieves almost from the start. Steve is always at your house on the weekends, and he's converted the guest bedroom at his place into a room for Henry. He picks him up from pre-school when you need him to, which is becoming more and more frequent with your increasing workload. He joins you for doctor's appointments and holds Henry's hand at the dentist. You don't think there are enough words in the world to express to Steve how grateful you are for his help, or for how much you can tell he loves being a part of Henry's life - and a part of yours, even when it's messy.

Today, more than ever, you're determined to update your resume and start looking elsewhere. Because it's Mother's Day, and it's an hour to Henry's bedtime, and you're just now walking through the front door, tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

The way everything has been piling up the last few months, it feels more overwhelming than when you first became a single mother.

As you're turning to lock the door, you hear the pitter patter of little feet stomping down the hall.

"Mommy!" Henry says, and before you can even hang up your purse, you're tackled from behind, little arms wrapping around one of your legs.

"Hi, baby," you laugh, looking over your shoulder at him. He's got a toy car in one hand and is mashing it into your thigh, but even as tired as you are, it's hard to care about the discomfort. You reach down and ruffle his hair, moving your leg laboriously before he sits down to wrap his legs around your ankle. Only as you're trudging across the living room with a thirty five pound ankle weight do you notice the smell in the air.

Dinner.

Henry giggles as you grunt with each step, and you're smiling, too, all your worries presently forgotten at the door. When you round the corner to the kitchen, you see Steve dressed in slacks and a button-up, sleeves rolled up just below the elbows. Your eyes linger where his tanned forearm flexes as he stirs the sauce simmering on the stove, and when Steve catches you staring, he doesn't even make fun of you.

"How's our girl?" he asks, wiping his hands with a dishtowel and tossing it over his shoulder before closing the gap between you. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

With a playful smile, you say, "Well, I thought I was doing alright, but suddenly, I'm feeling a little weighed down."

The laugh that pours out of Henry is infectious, and Steve is all smiles as he leans down to Henry's level and pries him off your legs. "Do you want to tell Mama what we did today?" he asks, setting Henry on his feet.

This is a new game you play together. Henry has always been a little shy, and he answers broad questions with a lot of I don't know and Nothing really. So you've been working on feeling more comfortable sharing. You always give Henry the opportunity to go first, but today, he seems to want to hide his face behind your leg, even though he's smiling. So you start.

"Well, today, I got a fancy breakfast at Brew & Bloom, and they gave me a free cookie because the barista liked my aura."

Steve hums, already diving back into his sauce. "Oh, yeah? What did they say about your aura? What color was it?"

"Motherly?" you guess. With your hastily applied mascara and less than stellar hair, you certainly look the part today, although that has less to do with being a mom and more to do with getting abruptly called in to work. "What did you do today, Steve?"

He hums as though he's thinking. "When I did laundry today, I found a gummy worm in somebody's shorts."

"Was it tasty?" Henry asks.

Steve's face scrunches, and you laugh. "It was a little crunchy," he says, "but it was one of the pink and blue ones, so you know it was still delicious."

Henry pulls a face at that. "You didn't eat it," he says disbelievingly.

"I totally did!" Steve's voice is slightly higher than usual, a dead giveaway that he's lying. "If you don't believe me, you can smell my breath. It'll be just like a gummy worm."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Why don't you c'mere then and give it a try?" Steve teases, eyes full of mirth, and you blink, feeling an overwhelming wave of fondness wash over you.

When Henry hesitantly steps out from behind you as though to approach, Steve switches off the burner and pivots, the directness of his step a clear prelude to a chase if you've ever seen one. Henry is too slow to piece it together, and just as he's starting to move his feet, Steve scoops him up in his arms and holds him up. Henry wriggles violently as Steve pretends to eat his stomach like a watermelon, laughing hysterically the whole time.

After a few seconds of this, Steve sets Henry back down on the ground, both of them breathing hard, and you lean against the doorframe, observing.

"Tell Mom what you did today," Steve prompts again when they've both caught their breath.

Henry takes a seat on the floor and picks up two of his cars, which are lying about on the rug. Absentmindedly pushing them around the little streets patterned into it, he says, "Steve played dinosaurs with me, and he told me all about this one called a place-iosaurus."

"Plesiosaurus," Steve whispers loudly from the doorway.

"Ooh," you say, settling yourself onto your knees beside him. He seems to be chasing the red car with the silver one around the little cartoon hospital building. "Can you tell me about the plesiosaurus?"

Steve seems to be wrapping up dinner as you find a green car to join Henry with, and he prattles off facts that sound accurate, or at least believable to your ears. It's apparently somewhat turtle-shaped, with a long, long neck. "Like a brack-osaurus," he says.

"The noble brachiosaurus," you repeat sagely, and Henry looks up at you like you've hung the moon. You don't know all that much about dinosaurs, but that's been his thing recently, so you've all been learning. You can tell how much he loves it when you remember the things he gets excited about. One day, he won't find you so exciting, and you know that, so you're trying to enjoy it now, while you can.

You play for about fifteen minutes before Steve calls from the dining room to let you both know dinner is ready. You have to remind Henry not to run into the dining room - more than once, he's rounded a corner directly into you or Steve while you were carrying a large container of food, or plates.

When you enter the room, Steve has set the table with your nice dishes, the porcelain ones with the flowers on them. You can't remember the last time you used them - surely, when you were married, at least. But Steve has gotten out a nice tablecloth, which you know must have been stored in the back of the linen closet, and placemats. There are a couple of wine glasses for the two of you, and Henry's green, plastic cup is already filled with juice in front of his seat.

"Did you iron this?" you ask Steve, hand on the tablecloth as Henry seats himself.

"Tell me when," he tells Henry as he starts to dole out food. Then, he glances up at you, expression sheepish. "Maybe."

You didn't even know Steve knew how to iron at all.

After a few scoops, when Henry hasn't told him to stop, Steve laughs at his expectant little expression. "Okay, why don't we start with this, buddy?"

He serves you as well, and your cheeks burn at the gentleness of it all. It's not that Steve never does this sort of thing. You're just still not used to being treated so kindly, and Steve - well, Steve is old fashioned in all the good ways. He opens doors for you, carries your groceries. To his core, he's so, so considerate. It never fails to impress you. Sometimes, you catch yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never comes.

Steve can cook quite well. When you first got together, he wasn't that great at it, but many nights, he's helped you in the kitchen or made dinner when you were at his house. He's a quick learner. At this point, he's probably a better cook than you are, and it shows with tonight's meal.

After dinner, Steve tells you to go relax, and he takes care of bathtime. You're not exactly sure what to do with yourself, so you find yourself curled up on the couch, watching TV and ruminating on the day.

Steve has done so much for you these last few weeks that it's hard to process it all. You love that he likes spending time with Henry, and that he never complains. But, even though he stays over a lot, you aren't even living together yet. It's hard not to feel guilty about, well, everything.

When you first started dating, Steve told you he's always wanted kids, and you think with a little more time, maybe he'll even love Henry like one of his own. You can already see it on his face, when he talks about him, long after Henry's gone to bed. When he updates you on the things they've done throughout the day, tells stories about this funny thing Henry said, or oh my god, you should have seen his face. Maybe Steve loves him already.

But it's not fair to him to be doing this much work, especially not this soon. And you don't see the situation at work getting any better, at least not in the coming months. It's one of those things, where someone leaves and they opt not to replace them, over and over, until one person is doing the job of several. And they've got no intention of hiring anyone else to help you. And meanwhile, you're trying to make the most of your time with your son, and you're also trying to make the most of your relationship with Steve. It's hard to have a relationship with someone who can't devote the time.

An old friend called you the other day, told you their new company is hiring and said they thought you'd be a perfect fit. It's almost exactly the same pay, with fewer responsibilities - and, most importantly, no overtime. Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow, I'll revise my resume, and I'll send it over and I'll do whatever I have to do to get this job. Whatever it takes to be able to be more present in your life again.

You can hear Henry giggling almost the whole time, splashing with his rubber ducks and his boats. As usual, when Henry starts whining, you know they're about to vacate the bathroom. Sure enough, the door swings open, and they both trudge down the hall to Henry's room, Henry in his koala towel with the hood up, and Steve in his yellow swim trunks. His hair is a mess, and he's got bubbles all over his forearms and in his hair. You're so endeared, you think - despite the fact that you want him to stop having to pick up your slack - you could get used to seeing him this way.

You move quickly, following them to Henry's room to help with pajamas and a bedtime story. While you let Henry choose his bedtime story - The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, it is - Steve goes to your bedroom to change into a pair of sweats and a tee shirt. Henry's thrilled that Steve is doing storytime; it's usually just you, but Steve does silly voices better, and he always makes sure the bad guys sound extra silly.

Henry picks out some Buzz Lightyear jammies, and once he's dressed and his hair is dried, Steve says, "Why don't you show Mama what you made her today?"

You raise your eyebrows and watch as Henry dutifully trots over to his dresser and pulls a sheet of paper off the top. It's a white sheet of copy paper with four carefully drawn stick figures, three big and one small. In Steve's handwriting across the bottom, it reads Happy Mother's Day - Love, Henry with the year etched into the corner.

Henry looks up at you with cautious optimism, like he's unsure if he should hand it over, or if you'll like it, but thinks you probably will. You've seen that face on him a million times. It's the same as when you tickle him between his neck and shoulder and he leans his little head over to fend you off, fighting a grin the whole time.

"Hmmm, who could this be?" you ask, pointing to the stick figure that's about half the size of the others, who wears a very convincing blue box of a shirt and brown shorts.

"It's me, silly," Henry says with a little belly laugh and waits expectantly for you to keep going.

You cock your head to the side and inspect the three adults. It looks to be maybe one woman (you) and a man, but the third one has long hair and pants, so it's anyone's guess, really. "And this one is me?" you ask, pointing at the lone stick figure wearing a dress. You assume he learned triangle dresses symbolize women from pre-school, but then again, the figure looks suspiciously like the symbol for a women's restroom, so it's hard to say.

He nods emphatically.

"Wow. I can tell you worked really hard on this. I like the stripes on my dress." He has recently developed a real desire to color between the lines without any mistakes, and you're careful not to say anything to reward "perfection" above effort.

"Thank you," he says, very businesslike.

Your eyes shift back over to the other two characters. "And who is this?" you ask.

Henry frowns. "That's Steve," he says, like it should have been obvious. Maybe it should have been.

He's put out that you had to ask, clearly, and you nod. "Oh, right. I thought so."

"Yeah, it's obviously Steve," Steve interjects, "because of his beautiful hair."

"Exactly!" Henry says with a little gap-toothed grin.

You roll your eyes at Steve, and then your eyes rove over the other stick figure. Henry doesn't wait for you to ask, just says, "And that's Daddy."

You should have known. You really should have, and you should have expected it, but it feels like a gut punch. It's sweet that Henry included Steve in the photo. It would have been sweet if he'd included his dad with you and Henry, too. But it's painful, seeing him try to include all the people he loves, and knowing very little of his life will ever include all four of you together. Seeing how happy Henry is, and how much love he put into this drawing makes your heart ache.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you lean down and pull him in for a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It's beautiful, honey. Can I put this on the fridge?"

"On the front," he suggests.

All through storytime, your mind wanders. You can't help but ruminate on all the things you wish you were doing differently, how you wish things would have been different with you and Henry's dad. How you wish things were just easier in general. And how you can't shake the constant nagging feeling that you aren't doing enough in really any area of your life. You're lucky Steve does all the reading tonight and you're just there for moral support.

When you tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he wrestles free of his blanket and extends his arms toward Steve, demanding another hug. Then he demands Steve tuck him back in as well.

You remember how impatient your ex could be with things like this, all the times Henry reached for him and was brushed aside. You think of all the times it probably still happens when he's with his dad and you're not there to run interference. Once you're back in the privacy of the hallway, Steve already cleaning up in the dining room and the bedroom door shut snugly behind you, you start to cry.

You didn't know it would be this hard, is all. When you decided to have a kid, you knew there was a chance, like with any couple, that you may not be together forever. But you never thought that a guy who's known your kid for six months would be a kinder and more present parent than his own father. And it hadn't occurred to you that Henry could ever want someone to be a part of his life in the same way as you and his dad. It wasn't until you began the process of divorce that you ever seriously considered you might eventually introduce someone to Henry, and that Henry may not understand why you can't all be one big, happy family together.

Henry doesn't ask much about his dad anymore, but he sees him frequently enough that he doesn't forget him. Frequently enough that he still gets excited to sit in the windowseat and watch the driveway for his dad to pick him up.

The dishes clatter as Steve carries them to the kitchen, and then the faucet turns on in the kitchen, so the sound of your sniffling in the living room is muffled. You put your head in your hands, like that can hide the sound of your heart breaking. But after a couple of minutes, when Steve shuts the tap off, he must hear you. "Baby," he calls, panic filling his voice.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" The couch dips beside you under his weight, and he takes one of your hands in his, wet with tears.

You don't know what to say. There's so much to cry about, honestly, and it's hard to know where to start. And Steve has done so much for you already, and you don't want to put this on him. You wish, selfishly, that he would have done the dishes for a little bit longer so you could have finished crying without him ever knowing.

You force yourself to slow down your breathing, leaning into him and letting him wrap his arms around you. Steve gives the best hugs, you think, and only an idiot would refuse one.

His hand smooths down the hair at the crown of your head, and you paw at your cheeks with your sleeve, struggling to wipe your tears away as they're still rolling.

Finally, voice trembling, you say, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for crying." His voice is gentle. You know that he means it.

"I'm not. I mean, that's not what I was apologizing for." Drawing a shaky breath, you rest your head on his chest and look across the room, clenching your fist tightly. "I'm just—I'm sorry you had to do all this today. And every day, lately."

You can hear the confusion in his voice. "I didn't really have to," he says plainly. "I wanted to do everything. Actually, I wanted to do more than this and just didn't have enough time."

"This isn't your responsibility, though. Not just Mother's Day - just - everything. You've been doing so much, and you're so good with Henry, and I know he loves you. And—"

"And I love him," Steve says calmly, brown eyes wide with earnestness, "and I love you." You don't know what to say to that. If he was looking to disarm you, he was successful. After a pause, he continues, "Look, you've been doing too much. You're too hard on yourself. If I didn't want to be this involved with Henry, I wouldn't be. If I didn't have time to watch him, I'd tell you. But I want to, and I can, so I do."

"It's just not fair to you."

He shrugs. "It doesn't feel unfair to me."

There's a long silence, and now that you've stopped crying, you do a much better job of wiping your eyes. Finally, you say, "It really hurt me to see all of us in his picture. It's just—I don't think he understands yet that his dad will hardly be in the same room with me, let alone spend a day with you and me and Henry. And it's so sweet that he put us all together, but it feels so wrong, knowing how much love he has in his heart for all of us and that we'll never be a family again."

Steve laces his fingers with yours and brushes his thumb against your wrist in reassuring strokes. "Honey, it's gonna be okay. You don't have to be a family with him for us all to be Henry's family. Hell, if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's that family is what you make it. I've got family I'm not related to, and plenty of them have never even met each other. It's okay if Henry's family looks a little different. We're still his."

It takes a little time for you to ruminate on it, but you know Steve's right. Finally, you lament, "I think I'm just scared that one day, I'll have to explain it to him why our family doesn't look like his friends' families, and that it will hurt him to hear."

Steve presses a kiss to your hairline and murmurs, "It's hard to be the one having the big talks. But maybe he already knows, and maybe it won't seem that weird, as long as we make sure he knows he's loved. Lots of kids have stepdads, or live with their grandma, or are adopted. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course there's nothing wrong with it," you say, "but I'm afraid he'll think it means there's something wrong."

"Then it's our job to make his life as normal and full of love as possible. And—Honey, look at me." When you lift your head and look into Steve's brown eyes, you wonder what he sees. If your mascara is smudged all over your face, if your eyes are puffy. And then he says, "I need you to know you're doing a great job."

It feels like it can't possibly be true. With how much you work, how much extra effort you feel like you have to put in to meet your own standards lately.

"Seriously," he says, "I see you doubting yourself sometimes, or feeling sorry for needing to ask for my help, but you're doing your best. And it may not look how you want it to, but even Henry can see how hard you work to give him a good life."

You sit up then, brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what he said to me today? He told me he wanted to make you a perfect picture for Mother's Day because he knows you miss him when you're gone." You blink back at him, surprised. "And he told me earlier this week that he likes how you don't rush him when he doesn't know what to say. So, yeah, maybe things aren't how you want them right now, and it's hard. But if Henry can see what an incredible mother you are, I think you can give yourself some credit."

You sit with that for a few moments, trying to internalize it. Sometimes, you get so caught up in trying to be the right kind of parent and do all the right things, that you don't realize Henry might actually notice the things you do.

"And, for the record," Steve adds, "I don't just love spending time with him. I love being here when you come home, and spending time with you - with or without him. I'd go anywhere you were, no matter what we were doing."

After a beat, you say, "I'm putting in for a new job. So I can be home more."

He sits back, eyes roving your face. "Really?" His voice sounds almost hopeful.

You nod. "Yeah, I just need to update my resume, and… I think I've got a shot, actually, with this place my friend works at."

Steve's face lights up, and he makes you tell him all the details - what you'd be doing, where it is, how the pay compares. He's so excited that, for the first time all day, you actually feel yourself relax a little.

He offers to make you each a glass of wine to celebrate, and you accept, although you remind him that you haven't been offered a position, exactly. He doesn't seem to care, and when he makes it into the kitchen, he says, "Oh. I almost forgot."

When he returns, he's carrying a vase of flowers - your favorite flowers, the very same ones he brought you on your first date. He sets them on the coffee table before sitting down and passing you your glass of wine. "Happy Mother's Day, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple.

[qwordavoider]

Man, after this most recent episode, I need some more Liam. So 🧑‍🧑‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒

Give the father's day feels ❤️

(Love your fics, I swear your stuff is 10 out of 10)

Stop, you're so sweet! 😩 It's comments like yours that keep me going, so thank you!! ❤️ I think we could all use some Liam to cheer us up right now, so here's almost 700 more words of Liam and Grandpa Bobby (continued from here)

-

Tommy follows Liam into the house and shut the door behind him as he calls out, “Hey Bobby!”

Bobby pokes his head around the corner and Tommy watches his eyes drop to the loaf in his hands and gives Tommy a flat look. 

“I told you not to bring anything,” Bobby scolds. 

“Don’t shoot the messenger. Evan thinks his orange cranberry bread is too dense. I don’t think it is, but he didn’t believe me, so he needs your opinion. And the only reason this one made it here was because he was satisfied with mine and Liam’s reassurances that it at the very least tasted delicious,” Tommy explains.

“Hmm, okay. I have a couple of theories but I’ll give him a call after we eat and I can taste it for myself.”

Tommy can’t help but smile at that. Like father, like son. 

Like grandson, Tommy thinks as he sees Liam up on a stool next to the pot. He’s taking his job of stirring the chili very seriously. So while those two finish everything up, he goes to set the table. Frequent enough visits make it easy for Tommy to find everything without having to ask Bobby where to look.

Just as he’s finishing up, he hears Athena call from the entryway, “Am I late?”

“Nope, just in time,” Tommy replies as he hugs her before she goes to greet Bobby with a kiss. 

“Alright everyone grab your bowls and load up. There’s plenty,” Bobby says. 

Bobby oversees Liam scooping the chili into everyone’s bowls before Liam grabs his and carefully walks over to the table. As they dig in, there’s the normal small talk and catching up before there’s a period of silence. Normally, Tommy wouldn’t think anything of it, but Liam seems a little nervous and Bobby gives him a little nudge as if he knows what it’s about. 

Tommy directs his full attention to his kid, since it seems like it’s important. He never wants Liam to feel like he can’t talk to him, but he knows that even with parents like him and Evan some things can still be hard to talk about. So he waits for Liam to speak when he’s ready. 

“I need your help with something,” Liam says and quickly looks up at Tommy before he looks back down at his hands. 

“Okay, with what?” Tommy prompts when Liam doesn’t continue. 

“I’m too old to say Bubba anymore,” Liam blurts. 

That is not what Tommy was expecting, but if there’s anything he’s learned after being married to Evan for a few years, is how to take it in stride. So he asks, “Do you have any other ideas for what you want to call him? Something like Dad, maybe?”

"No!" Liam says a little too quickly and loudly before he continues more quietly, "Not Dad."

Tommy thinks of Connor. He feels bad that he suggested “Dad” because Liam likely still associates that with Connor, and Tommy never wants Liam to feel like they are replacing Connor and Kameron. Instead, he asks again, “Okay, what did you have in mind?”

And this time Tommy waits for Liam to continue. He catches the little look he gives Bobby before he turns back to Tommy. He’s looking down at his chili when he says, “Well I talked with grandpa and he suggested Pops. And I like that. I think I want to call him pops instead of bubba now.”

Tommy swallows the emotion thick in his throat as he looks at Bobby and finds the man giving him a knowing smile. Evan admitted to Tommy early on, after getting back together, that he used to call Bobby “Pops” every once in a while when he first joined the 118. How, occasionally, Evan still uses it as a term of endearment for Bobby. He knows how much it would mean to Evan to have Liam call him pops. 

So he clears his throat to say, “I think he would love for you to call him Pops. What can I do to help, lovebug?”

-

Make me write

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. '𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥' 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

summary: a series of not-so-accidental run ins with Gojo Satoru a/n: I was supposed to update it last week (which didn't happen due to a few things going on in my life at that time), then I move it for tomorrow, but I finished it much earlier so enjoy! cw: stalking,

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Satoru panics after not finding (name) all cosy in his home. He could've sworn that he checked that the man had a day off and no plan with any of his (new) friends.

Gojo frantically looks for (name) using his six eyes. He checks all possible locations that the man could head off to. Satoru lets out a sigh of relief when he finally finds (name) sitting at a coffee shop. He sits down at the edge of a roof, watching his friend enjoy a book with a hot drink on the table.

He watches (name) for a while with a soft smile on his face. Then, he sees an opportunity in the situation. After all, the man shouldn't be too suspicious about Satoru coming in and joining him at the table.

He doesn't really think of what he'll say or do before teleporting to an alley close to the coffee shop. He stops inside, making sure not to look towards (name) just yet, trying to make it look like he's in there by accident. Gojo orders the sweetest drink on the menu, ignoring the judging stare from the barista.

Only after his order is being made, Gojo starts looking around the coffee shop, trying to look as little suspicious as possible. He 'spots' (name) as one of the tables, noting how the man probably still isn't aware that Satoru came in. Glancing back to the counter, making sure he'll have enough time to at least exchange a few words with the man.

He steps up beside the table where (name) is sitting, clearing his throat to get the man's attention.

"It's nice to see you here, (name)," Satoru says with a playful grin.

"Gojo." (Name) glances up, uninterested in entertaining the white-haired man in front of him.

Satoru doesn't seem to notice (name)'s disinterest and slides on a chair across from him. There's a moment of silence between the two of them, with (name) trying to focus on his books while Gojo stares at him. The blue-eyed man opens his mouth to say something, but the barista calls his name from the counter — his order is ready.

"Wait for me, pretty. I’ll be right back." He flashes a quick smile.

Satoru comes up to the counter, ready to collect his drink. He thanks the barista, taking a small sip from the cup. After deciding it was sweet enough for his taste, he turned around, planning on returning back to the table. He stops, noticing that the table that just moments ago was occupied by (name) is now empty.

Gojo doesn't waste any time, looking for the man using his ability. A smile forms on his face when he sees (name) quickly walking towards his house, looking back to see if Satoru would follow him.

Next time Gojo tries to insert himself in (name)'s day-to-day life, he finds himself at a train station. He doesn't plan on coming up to bother the man, deciding that watching him from afar would be enough.

He notices (name) staring at him with furrowed brows. Satoru looked back at the man with a smile. He sees his friend's jaw tighten, and before he knows it, (name) storms towards him.

"What are you doing here?" (Name) asks, eyes narrowed.

"Can’t I enjoy a nice train ride?" Gojo replies, casual as ever.

"I’m surprised your family even let you near one," (name) says flatly.

"I don’t care about them. They’re too old to dictate my life anymore," Gojo says, brushing it off.

"Oh, so now you don’t care?" (name) scoffs. "Where was that energy years ago when—"

He stops himself. "Never mind."

(Name) quickly walks away, getting inside the train that just arrived at the platform.

"(Name), wait—" Gojo calls out.

But he’s already on the train. There's nothing Gojo could do to stop him. But it's fine; he'll get close to the man another time.

After their last encounter, Gojo decided to lay off for a little while, opting to -stalk- watch over (name) from afar whenever he had the chance to do so. It was going rather well, Satoru being satisfied with their current arrangement.

Until it wasn't. Until one of the nights, after seeing way too many men in (name)'s surroundings, being away stopped being enough. Satoru knew he couldn't just walk into the club. So he waited outside, near the back, until his friend stepped out at the end of his shift.

Gojo ignores the way (name) rolled his eyes at the sight of him. He tries to offer taking the man home but never even gets the words out.

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing?" (Name) snapped. "Leave me the fuck alone."

He turned to walk away, then paused, turning his head around.

"If I see you near me again, I might have to kill you, Gojo."

And with that, he was gone.

[leyavo]

Thinking about the TF141 guys having a lottery syndicate. Where they all put in some money and choose their numbers.

Price checking the results on his phone as the guys huddle round talking about what they’re going to buy with a million pounds.

Price wants a canal boat, don’t ask him why even he doesn’t know. On going joke about getting him a new hat for his boat driving. Maybe even a fishing suit. He hasn’t thought of his height or the small space of a boat like that. “Might wanna trade up the old wagon.”-“that’s a classic boys, engines still ticking away.” Price then goes on about cars not being made as reliable now and how he likes being able to fix stuff without having to plug it into a sodding computer. He’d pay off his mortgage too as he already has a house.

Johnny wants to buy a pub for retirement and he’s constantly trying to convince the guys to go into business with him. He’s even got a plan and seen a derelict building that would be perfect. It’s normally when he’s drunk does he go into the details. “This could be us lads,” he says hooking his arms around Simon and Kyle’s shoulders.(Price is smoking outside and Simon’s regretting not joining him now). All whilst he spills his beer over them.

Kyle would invest his money in wine (that’s where the big money is). Then he’d buy himself a nice motorbike to weave in and out of the traffic in London. He’ll come back to the investment then buy a nice house later on. “You boring bastard, investing?!”-“you won’t be laughing when I double my winnings mate.” He’d also buy his mums house for her.

Simon’s wish shocks them the most, a nice house with a garden maybe near the beach (he hates the beach) - “for the dog, not me.”-“What do you need all those rooms for?”-“Don’t say for the dog.” He’s definitely looking on rightmove each night before the lotto draw. He still lives in the same studio flat on a rundown council estate, the first one he rented and then bought in his twenties.

When they don’t win the big money, they split whatever money they get or if it’s a small amount it goes towards drinks at the pub.

They don’t dare calculate how much they’ve spent on it though.

[Masterlist]

[hp-debates-ramblings]

Lily doesn't actually insult lily iirc

She goes Lily mum told you not to do that. That being jumping of the swing from a rather high arc. It's exactly what I tell my sister when she does dangerous things. Even if she's done them before. It's a normal sentiment. Not wanting your sibling (younger or older) to get hurt. It's human. And as the older one she has a certain responsibility. As all siblings do.

And does she tell Lily that her magic is unnatural? Yeah. Bc it is. Esp to someone who doesn't know about the magical world. Is she a bit jealous asking how she does it? Yeah. That's again. Sibling. It's unnatural and their mum tells her not to do it but it is cool and she curious even though she shouldn't encourage as the older one and the one in charge/responsible and everything.

And what does she tell Snape? "Aren't you the boy that has been spying on us?" Or something to that effect? Telling Lily not to get to close to a stranger?

I just said the same thing in a reply earlier so I'll copy that here and remove the focus there (the poor people thing):

And he called her sister a witch. Which ended up being not-insulting later but even Lily didn't want anything to do with him at that moment when he said you're a witch.

Is okay for a 9 year old poor boy to spy on you now? Is it alr as long as the boy in q spying on two girls playing in their own back/front yard (iirc) and calling one a witch? Is that what your saying?

Bc that feels physically impossible to believe. At all.

A boy spying on girls playing beside their home. For quite sometime. Knowing where they live. All sounds rather wrong to me.

And now about the Muggle thing.

Now, I did mention that this same hatred evolves into that ideology and is not that yet.

But even still, this hatred is beyond my dad is abusive to me so I hate all Muggles. Which is such a terrible stance in the first place.

And also, one thing I haven't brought up before anywhere: Snape couldn't have just known Lily had magic. He had been watching for quite some time.

And what that does tell us is that he must have seen Petunia for quite some time too. Nowhere does it suggest that Petunia and Lily hated each other before Snape introduced himself.

Yes the jealousy and the mum said don't do that and it's unnatural and whatnot. But that is completely expected, considering it's magic: unnatural and something she was curious about but something they've been told isn't good/should be done.

So Snape has seen that not all Muggles are bad. He'd obviously seen Lily interacting with others. There's no way he just naturally knew when to spy on her so that only Petunia was there.

So he did know to an extent that not all Muggles were abuseive. And also, the detoriation of Petunia and Lily's relationship is brought on by him. It's fine before that.

And Petunia was very rightfully telling Lily to stay away from the boy spying on you.

He had knowledge that Muggles weren't allowed bad. But he alr had way too strong feelings. And then he didn't learn that they were wrong? He joined the people trying to kill his only friend. Between SWM and this scene, 6 or so years have passed where he continued to hate ALL of them for no good reason

Saying it's fine bc his father was abusive is like saying if you've been through trauma by one person of that religion/race/culture/country, you now have full right to join a group wanting to kill all of them. While your best friend is FROM that group. Not very logical now, is it? It would hardly matter what age you were at, everyone would tell you your putting a whole lot of people in a box for stupid reason and being against you.

It's... It's legit him joining the like idk the KKK bc his dad is Black and abusive even though he has seen non-abusive Backs. Even though that would end up getting his best friend killed. It's way to extreme. People would call him a stupid backwards racist. No one would support him would they???

Also, he interacts with half blood and mugglebornsnin the Wizarding world. At Hogwarts, definitely. Like McGee's half-blood isn't she? And are you saying there were no Muggle born teachers there? He went far too extreme for the wrong reasons no matter the angle.

I think Severus was one of the bravest characters in the series

🐣

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[no1cutiepatootie]

.

[hauntingblue]

BACK TO ONE PIECE LETSGOOOOO

[attractthecrows]

retconning stroud out of the deep roads so i can shove laure amell and the hawke siblings and varric and anders all into the same little camp. they would all have such a bad time

[pue3lla]

If I see one more ‘Heizou is a minor’ post istg

[eraserbread]

your husband, nanami, never spoke much. until his three-year-old daughter started.

on his day off, it started before the sun rose. he's tucked by the waist in bed, sleeping beside you, his maternal, gorgeously caring wife.

it's not abnormal for your daughter, rin, to stumble out of her bed since she retired the crib, but it is abnormal for her to blatantly wake kento up. but he wakes up—he's a good dad, and his little girl probably had a nightmare.

"daddy... daddy's sleepin'?" her little voice calls from his side of the bed, too small to see over the mattress, but faithful, what she heard was true -- his voice last night after she went to bed.

ken's rolling over in bed, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes. looking over at you, you're dead to the world. completely knocked out. "yes... daddy's sleeping, my dear."

it takes her a second, shuffling on her little bare feet. she can't really reach the side of the bed, but didn't know how to say she wanted up. instead, she chews on her thumb and demands, "rin, too."

so kento sits up, half-awake as he stretches over the side, scooping her up under the arms.

"daddy, did you work today?" kento grunts as he settles rin in a straddle over his chest. his eyes are shut, but he peeks them open to see his little girl, smiling at her ruffled sleep hair.

"yes, love."

"what do at work?"

"a lot of meetings with very annoying men."

"what does tha' mean?"

"it means i had to deal with people I didn't like. it's something of a learned skill, unfortunately. one day, you will have to answer to annoying men, though I have faith you will know how to handle them." kento's speaking with his eyes closed, his deep, slow voice low as rin settles over his chest.

she doesn't register half of that, just content with listening to her favorite person talk. so, when she gets comfortable spread across kento's torso, she thinks about her daddy at work talking to you when he gets all grumbly.

"daddy."

"yes, darling?" kento's standing at the stove as you prepare breakfast that morning, hot cup of dark coffee in his hands as rin stumbles in.

she's holding a half-eaten rice cake you gave her to hold her off, barefoot and bearing it like a prize. "my rice cake is b-brown."

"you know why that is? it's because it's chocolate flavored."

"daddy?" she continues, taking a step closer to him. "are you drinkin'?"

"mhm." he replies, taking a cool sip of his coffee. "where'd you put the sippy cup mom gave you this morning?"

the sound of your name, and you're peeking over your shoulder, blindly tending to your sizzling fish as rin runs back to her room. "anyways, other than that, her teacher says she's doing great in speech class."

"mm, i know. she talks just as much as you, now."

you can't even pretend to be shocked at his choice of words, but you hang your mouth open like you are.

"daddy! look!" rin skids to a stop in front of him, ivory sippy cup held high and proud above her head.

"alright, take a sip—just like daddy, see?" ken squats down to toddler-level, still so stoic and mindful when he's sipping noisily at his coffee. rin joins in, suckling through her straw with a similar noisy fervor. she's a tiny shadow of her dad—that's all she wants to be, with her hollowed cheeks, concentrated arch in her sharp brow, and the proud smile she exudes when kento praises her.

she's so happy. all she ever wants is her busy dad's attention, and even when he's tired or weary, kento is always sure to give his love exactly what she wants.

"yay! my baby! you're just like daddy!"