#i love the brick with the picket fence

[simple-and-cozy-life]

I went to a living history museum and fell in love with their 1860-1890s houses

[lillypad910]

Such a Good Girl

Dom! Eddie Munson x Sub! Girly! Reader

Warnings: (not pre-read well, apologize for some errors, I wrote his half awake) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), bit of fluff, reader is an "innocent" slut (I'm not sorry about it), pet names (Bunny, Baby), Kinks (breeding, sub/dom relationship, reader has a pile of stuffed animal that he literally fucks her on, have fun lol)

Summary: Eddie sneaks into your window to find you getting ready for bed. But he was other plans for your evening.

A/n: I wrote this half asleep and it is pure filth. I haven't written smut in a HOT minute and this was me kind of getting a practice run to write the smut for a later fic with a certain character reader I fear people are BEGGING from this blog. Enjoy!

If you wanna be tagged when I post ask or comment telling me so!

All Pics from Pinterest!

Eddie parks his car down the road, not wanting to alarm your parents with his van sitting outside. He walks all the way up to your house, jumping your white picket fence and making his way towards the backyard. He knows which window is yours, having snuck in a few times before. He climbs up the lattice on the side of the brick wall of your house, making his way up to your window. He places his feet firmly on the roof that sticks out, looking into your window.

There you are, his beautiful sweet girl, brushing your hair at your vanity. Your cute flowy nightgown makes you look like you stepped right out of a 1960’s magazine. Your window is open a bit, letting in the cool air of the night.

He knocks on the glass, startling you a bit and almost making your drop your hair brush. You turn and immediately smile at him. You walk over and open the window more, letting the rocker inside. “Hi, Eddie.” You giggle as he stumbles in, nearly tripping over your lace curtains. “Hi, sweetheart.” He straightens himself out before closing the window, “you look cute.” Your cheeks flush a bit at the compliment. You aren’t used to compliments yet, but Eddie is determined to make sure you know your worth.

“I’m sorry for coming so late, were you about to go to bed?” He asks, glancing over at the pink comforter with multiple stuffed animals on it. You shake your head, climbing onto the bed and grabbing one of the plushies, holding them close to your heart. It was one he got you, a little bunny with big floppy ears, Mr Flospy is what you named him.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Princess, you need your beauty sleep.” You look up at him, your eyes glistening a bit in the light from your bedside lamp. “But you just got here…” Eddie smiles and holds out his arms, and you immediately tackle him in a hug, Mr Flopsy still in your arms. “I don’t want you to go, please stay.” You nuzzle your nose into his neck, and he hums, enjoying the feeling. “Bunny,” the nickname earns a whimper from you, it’s your favorite, “you said you want me to stay?” He clarifies, leaning you back into your stuffies. You nod, holding Mr Flopsy to your chest.

“Bunny,” Eddie leans over you and kisses your forehead, “have you been a good girl?” You nod again, your thighs pressing together. “Use your words, sweetheart.” “Y-Yes… I’ve been a good girl…!” Eddie loves these moments, your cheeks flushed and beautiful eyes blown. “Hmm,” he leans down and kisses your soft pink lips, he can tell you have on a cherry chapstick. He kisses you a few times, earning little whimpers from you, before moving down your jaw and neck.

“E-Eddie…” you grip at his vest, legs already getting shaky and he hasn’t even done anything other than kiss you. “Bunny, relax, you’re working yourself up.” He runs his palms over your thighs, securing his hips in between them. “Such a pretty girl,” he nibbles a bit at your collarbone, earning a gasp from you, “Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want your parents hearing their little girl being a total slut, do you?” You glance away from him, the blush on your cheeks expanding out to your ears. He knows what you like, what you need.

He lifts your nightgown a little rubbing his ringed fingers over your panties. You grip his arm, not wanting him to pull away. His fingers dip under the fabric, beginning to rub circles over your clit. You swear he can do what ever he wants to you, you’d obey everything he told you to do gladly if this was the reward.

Eddie sighs into you ear, watching you twitch at the attention he’s giving your most sensitive place. His hot breath on your skin makes you shiver, along with the soft but firm circles his fingers dance over your clit. You feel your breath catch, a knot already forming in your stomach. “E-Eddie…”

“God, you’re so easy…” Eddie moves his hand a little lower into your underwear, slowly inserting two fingers in see to you. You grip his arm tighter, a soft gasp leaving your lips that makes him smirk. “What? What is it, Baby…? Fuck, are you drooling?” He places his free hand under your chin and whips away the bit of saliva that leaks from the corner of your mouth, watching you begin to pant a bit just from his fingers curling inside you.

You moan, your hand smacking against your mouth to muffle it. Eddie only smiles wider at this, removing his hand from your underwear, getting you to pout. He’s quick to remove the garment, sliding it down your legs then dropping it over the side of your bed. He places his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs so he can see all of you.

“Fuck, Bunny, you’re dripping.” He lowers himself down, leaving soft kisses down on your abdomen. “So needy,” he kisses lower and lower, before leaving one right on your clit, earning another moan from you.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair as he finally places his mouth to your cunt. God the feeling…

“E-Eddie…!” One hand moves to shove two fingers back inside you as his tongue laps around. He’s learned your body, what you like, and how to work it.

He buries his head into your cunt, sucking on your clit as his fingers pump inside you. You wreath at the feeling, lifting your hips off your bed from the pleasure. He takes this as encouragement, wrapping his other arm under you and moving his fingers faster.

It doesn’t take long before you’re shaking, oozing all over his face. He pulls away and pushes your legs up as he gets closer once more, pressing his clothed crotch to your soaked cunt.

“Fuck, you feel that, Bunny?” Of course you do, his large, hard cock fighting to get out of his pants as he grinds against you. “Do you want me to fuck you?” His question is rhetorical but you still answer anyways. “Please… E-Eddie, please…”

He unbuttons his pants, yanking them down and tossing them away, then the same with his boxers. His cock springs free, earning a soft gasp from you.

God, it looks so good…

“You’re drooling again, Bunny.” But this time he doesn’t wipe away the spit, instead he pulls away from you all together. “Do you wanna suck it?”

You don’t even hesitate as you push yourself out of the pile of stuffed animals, crawling onto your stomach in front of him. You grab his cock, immediately shoving your face into his crotch. He groans as you lick up his shaft, your nose taking in the musky scent. “That’s it, Bunny.”

You take the tip of his dick in your mouth, not wanting to wait anymore. You have to open your mouth a bit wider to fit him, but you love to do so. Eddie combs his fingers into your hair before gripping a chunk, “come on, Bunny, you can do better than that.” He slowly pushes your head down, which you happily take.

Before long your nose is brushing into his hair, his cock deep in your throat as it twitches. You’re drooling so much. You moan, sucking his cock as you hollow your cheeks. You move your tongue skillfully, just like he trained you.

“You’re doing so good, Bunny. Just like that. Such a good girl.” He moved his hips back before thrusting forward, earning a throaty moan from you. You try not to gag, angling yourself just right to where he’s not agitating it.

He thrusts into your mouth again, making your thighs press together. You begin to bob your head with his thrusts, pairing it perfectly so that when he slams back in, you push your head against him too. He gets a bit rough, beginning to thrust faster and harder until you can control the angle anymore. You gag, but don’t pull away, honestly you can’t. His hand holds your head down as he uses your throat like a toy.

And then he yanks you off, your throat sore as you try to catch your breath. He shoves you back into your stuffed animals, before grabbing your legs and lifting them up to your head. You blush, embarrassed at this position. But you don’t have long to think about it before he’s climbing on top of you and rubbing his dick along you.

“Eds…” you moan out as you feel his tip press to your cunt. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in place, before thrusting his hips forward, his cock going deep inside you.

You gasp, your mind blanking as he begins to thrust hard and faster, using your cunt for his own pleasure. You moan, your bed squeaking as you take his cock. “Look at you, taking my cock so well.” He mumbles into your ear.

You pant as you feel him twitch inside you, your cunt already becoming sore from the abusive thrusts. But you don’t care, how could you? Your pussy is being used for what it was made for.

You cum hard on his cock, squeezing around him until you see stars but he doesn’t stop. If anything he’s thrusting harder, pounding you in as you become a panting, moaning mess.

He’s fucking you stupid.

“Such a good girl, taking my dick so deep.” His cock pistons in and out of you, your mind foggy as you just take it. You have to be good and just take it, or you won’t get your reward.

He groans as his thrusts get sloppy, hitting certain angles that’s has you wreathing. “Eddie!”

He’s quick to silence you, one hand quickly wrapping around your throat and giving a good solid squeeze that has you coming undone on his cock again. “I’m gonna fucking breed you.” He groans into your ear. “Gonna fill you up just how you want, fuck you full.”

You’re gasping for air as you cum on his cock again, but this time, he thrusts a few more times before he finally thrusts deep inside you one last time. You feel the warmth of his cum gush inside you, moaning at the feeling. You need him, you need him to fucking ruin you. Imagine what people would say if he got you pregnant? Your family would be furious…

You hope he did.

You both sit there for a while, basking in the post sex glow. He’s collapsed on top of you, pinning you still to your bed. You don’t mind, your arms wrapped around him as his cock is still buried inside you.

He kisses you lovingly, smothering you in them as you giggle. “You’re so pretty,” his voice is horse, but you understand him well enough.

You snuggle into his neck, still a bit dazed. “I love you.” The words slip out so effortlessly, but of course they do. It’s Eddie.

“I love you,” he smiles into your hair, nuzzling into the strands.

Then you hear a door down the hall open. The hall light flicks on. Eddie scurries off you, grabbing his clothes off the floor and hiding behind the door. You wobbly get up from the bed, but you don’t have time to put on your underwear before a knock comes from your door.

“Sweetie? You alright?” Your dad calls from the other side. You take a deep breath, straightening your 60’s nightgown so it’s just covering you. You open the door just enough to pop your head out. “Yes, Dad?” You smile at the older man, trying to put on this innocent look.

“Are you alright?” He goes to lift his hand, placing it against your forehead, “You feel warm, are you catching a fever?” “Oh, no, I…” you try to think of something quick, “I just had a nightmare. Sorry if I woke you.”

You feel Eddie’s cum starting to drip out of your used cunt, and you try to press your legs together a bit to stop it.

“Are you sure? Do you need some water?” He looks over your face once more. “No, no, really, I’m good. Go back to bed, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning.” You give him a smile and he nods before walking off again. You shut your door slowly, hearing it click into the hold.

“Well,” Eddie comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, “You need to be more quiet next time.” You go to turn around but he stops you, holding you in place in front of him. “Oh, Bunny,” he trails his hand down your front, “you’re letting too much out, we can’t have that.”

Oh tonight’s on a be a long night.

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@cagethemunson

@cherrycolas-things

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Too Close for Comfort 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, a grumpy man, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a place to stay for the semester but your landlord is less than hospitable.

Characters: Joel Miller

Note: I said I'd get to Joel and I'm sorry to neglect everyone else lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The suburban sprawl awes you as you steer down the gentle curving avenues, taking in the trimmed hedges and the short picket fences. The neighbourhood is a stark contrast to the grim backstreets where you grew up. As you turn into the bright cul de sac, you can't help but wonder if you put the wrong address into the app.

The automated voice declares you've reached your destination just as you drive past the house from the posting. You hiss as you confirm the metal numbers mounted on the brick are the very same. You swerve into the nearest lot and reverse, forgetting to look as you do.

A loud honk has you slamming on the brakes as a large truck flashes its lights in your rearview. You give a sheepish wave and cringe, waiting for them to pull in. You sink down as you notice the bulky Chevy roll expertly into the lot  in front of the very house that distracted you.

You hold in a groan and back up, straightening the wheel and parking along the curb. A man drops heavily to his feet from the pick-up, slamming the door behind him. You wince and grip the steering wheel nervously. That must be the man you emailed.

Great first impression...

You open your car door to get out only to be trapped by your seat belt. You quickly click the button to release yourself and climb out of the car. You step up on the curb as the man scowls towards his front door, tramping up the cement walk between neatly groomed grass.

"Um, excuse me, Joel?" You call after him, "are you Joel Miller?"

He stops before the bottom step of the porch and pushes his head back with a growl. He turns to face you, agitation creased above his brows. You try to smile but your lips only tremble.

"Um, sorry to bother, I'm the one who messaged you. Er, about the room. You know, uh, online?" You wave your phone at him and his eyes dully focus on the gesture.

He crosses his arms. You shift your weight on your feet, not daring to break the threshold of his lawn. Right, you don't think this is going to work out. You should've known it was too good to be true.

"I'm sorry--"

"I'm Joel," he interrupts, "you're my one o'clock," he checks his watch, a brown leather band strapped around his thick tanned wrist, "you're early."

"I... yes, I am. I hate being late--"

"Doesn't matter," he dismisses tersely and twists on his heel.

He climbs the front steps of the two-storey house as you watch helplessly. His broad shoulders stretch the thin cotton of his tee shirt as he rolls his shoulders and keys in the code to the front door. You slump your shoulders, hooking your fingers in your pockets as you make to turn back.

"You wanna see the room?" He calls to you before you can retreat.

"Oh, uh, sure," you hop in place and quickly scurry up the wall, "er, that would be great."

You clatter up the steps, tripping over the last one. He stands by the door, staring at you dully as he holds it open for you. You show your teeth appeasingly as you approach.

"Take your shoes off," he points you inside.

You step onto the mat and bend to untie your sneakers. He enters after you with a sigh. You quickly sidle out of his way as he nearly bumps into you. You slide your shoes aside and stand as he thumbs off his boots.

"It's above the garage," he points to the east wall. That is east, right?

"Sure, uh, cool," you follow him past the staircase.

He leads you to a door just before the kitchen and opens it again. It occurs to you then, maybe too late, that he's a complete stranger and you've walked carelessly into his house. You look at him, trying to hide the flicker of doubt. It doesn't help that he doesn't smile. Actually, you're not sure if that would be any better. 

You go ahead of him and climb the stairs behind the door. You enter the room, fully furnished and relatively cozy. You're impressed. It's not much but enough to make do.

“Built in the bathroom,” he explains as he does to another doorway, “only half bath, you'll have to use downstairs for a shower. Kitchenette,” he goes to the counter mounted into the wall, “microwave, hot plate sink, guess you could get an electric kettle.”

You nod as you look around. It's not bad; a bed, a chair and footstool, a table against the wall with two wooden stools. Of all the places you've viewed, it's decent and it's close enough to school 

“I could… is that an offer?” You prompt.

“You got a job?” He asks.

“Sure, I work on campus between classes, and I have a grant,” you explain, “probably won't be here too much, just need somewhere to sleep.”

“Mm,” he rubs his chin, a hoarse bristle of brown and gray along his jaw. “Deposit?”

“Right, um, yeah, I got it. I could Venmo? Or paypal?”

“Cash,” he insists.

“Oh, uh, I don't have it on me,” you fumble with your phone, “but I can show you my balance.”

“Bring it tomorrow and the room is yours.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Get the money in my hand and it's a deal,” he offers his hand, “you seem clean. You're a student. Better than the guy who tried to steal my silverware.”

“Uh, I won't do that,” you shake his hand and chuckle nervously.

“Mmm,” he growls and lets you go. “As long as you're quiet, I don't care what you do.”

“Oh, yeah,” you cover your mouth and lower your voice, “I'll do my best.”

He is unshakable. You're not the most charming character but you're harmless, most people realise that pretty quickly. You turn and continue to look around. 

You go to the window and pull the cord of the blinds. Only one side raises and you yank it again. You give an oop as you angle it and try to let it down. It's only making it worse.

He huffs and crosses the room. You back up and he snatches the cord, rolling it up easily. You mumble an apology and look out, peering down at the driveway.

“It's really nice,” you say, “you said you put it the bathroom yourself?”

“Built the whole room,” he grumbles as he backs up, scratching the back of his, “something to do…”

“Right,” you smile, impressed by his handiwork. “Well, I can get the money. When should I come back?”

“Ten,” he says, “and don't be early. Don't need you interrupting my coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” you confirm, “ten…” you set an alarm on your phone and add it to your calendar, “I'll be here.”

You peek up at him as he watches you with narrowed eyes. His expression is enough to see you off. You're going to scram before he rescinds his offer.

🏘️

The next day, you head out to deliver the deposit. You take a little longer than you expected at the bank. You didn't consider that taking out a large amount would raise alarm bells. 

With that sorted, you set off for your new home. This time, you park without issue, the Chevy truck unmoving in the driveway. You skip up the walk and take the steps two at a time. Your toe hits the top stair and you fly forward, colliding with the door.

You stand straight and laugh at yourself, reaching to knock on the door.

“Don't,” a disembodied voice warns.

You frown and look around. Your eyes catch the almost indiscernible lens above the doorbell. Oh, fancy.

The door swings open and Joel greets you over a gray blue mug. You stare at him awkwardly and teeter on your feet. Oh, yeah. You are here for a reason.

“Got it all here,” you proclaim as you loosen the drawstring on your purse, “counted it twice.”

He accepts it as he drinks from his mug, slurping down the last of the dregs. He clears his throat as he lowers the cup, “mm, great.”

“So, uh, not to be pushy,” you let your bag hang from your elbow, “when would I be able to… move in?”

His brown eyes bore into your very soul, “well… I guess whenever you need…”

“Great, because um, to be honest, it's really expensive to live on campus and my roommates are… messy,” you hesitate as you realise you're rambling, “not that that matters to you.”

“Just think of me like your landlord,” he grits, “don't bother me unless it's an emergency.”

“Got it,” you nod, “sorry, I'm excited. Oh, and I was wondering, am I allowed outside? Well, I don't mean, like, okay, is there a backyard?”

He nods stiffly. 

“Am I… can I uh, use it?”

He stares then shrugs, “I guess. Two rules, stay out of my room and stay out of the garage. You got your room, you'll have access to the common space within limits.”

“Uh huh, makes sense,” you hold out the envelope and he takes it. “Well, thanks, I really appreciate it. You know, it must be a good investment, a little apartment…” you clamp your lips and cringe, “okay, sorry, I'm going.”

He doesn't respond. As you turn, the door snaps shut and you nearly trip again. It'll be a bit tense but it's better than scraping the bottom of the barrel to pay rent and dealing with Kaya's late night antics. 

🏘️

You email Joel shortly after your last encounter. Restless, you're eager to be out of your overpriced and overcrowded dorm. You have most of your things ready to go. A single knapsack and a long duffle. 

He agrees to the day before the first. You're not the sort to complain. It's better than the alternative. Short of the grumpy overseer, you really found the perfect place.

When you arrive, Joel's truck isn't there. You try ringing the bell but don't get an answer. You didn't expect any different. You sit on the top step and wait, admiring the facade of the neighbouring houses and the autumnal russets littered across their yards.

You’re not early. Not that early. You thought he’d be around or maybe give you some direction on how to get inside. Technically, this is your home too now. You signed the electronic lease.

When he drives up, you stand, swaying as you try not to seem too jumpy. He sits in his truck, taking his time as he lingers inside. When he gets out, he is in no hurry. You smile as he approaches and chew your lower lip.

His graying hair looks fluffy and soft despite his demeanour. He wears a tee shirt under a canvas shirt.

“Hi, er, Joel, sir,” you greet, “I… think I got the right day.”

“Was getting a key cut,” he slips his hand into his back pocket, “the keypad can be finicky. This one’s for the back. Just in case.”

“Thanks,” you chirp as you accept the key, “that’s awesome.”

His dark eyes challenge your enthusiasm as they flick up.

“Sure,” he agrees flatly.

“I’ll get my bags,” you announce as you back up, giving him room to step past you.

He rumbles but doesn’t give a real response. You hop off the step, landing clumsily, and follow the path down to the sidewalk. You pop your trunk and pull out your duffle and knapsack. As you go to shut the trunk, you feel a tug on the handle of the duffle bag and you hold back a yipe as a rough hand brushes the side of yours.

Joel doesn’t say a word as you let him take the bag. He turns and stalks back up the lawn. You can’t tell if he’s being helpful or he just wants to lock you away so you're out of his way. You hurry after him, keys jingling loudly.

Your foot hits the step and you nearly stumble again. You catch yourself with a stomp on the next step and he pauses at the front door to glance back at you. You offer another meek smile. He opens the door, waiting on you as you steady yourself.

“Sorry.”

“Slow down, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You give a nervous chuckle. He’s not laughing. You gulp and hook your knapsack on your shoulder before you continue inside. He might not be the nicest but at least you can be assured he can fix anything you break. Not that you’re intending on that… hopefully.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I want a pink Gothic Victorian cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. This little dollhouse was built in 1870 in Oak Bluffs, Massachusetts. It has 3bd. 1ba. $875K.

As far as these summer cottages go, this is a large one. Usually, they’re tiny. 

The floor is original and look at the gingerbread millwork.

Adorable dining area.

The kitchen is too cute. Look at the floor, painted pink, too. 

The main bd. has access to the little balcony.

This bd. has a lovely gothic window.

And, this one has a sink. 

It’s so pretty.

Isn’t this like a fairy tale? A picket fence with an ivy arbor.

The yard is small, but has bricks like a patio.

https://www.priceypads.com/pink-gothic-victorian-cottage-in-marthas-vineyard-lists-for-875k-in-oak-bluffs-massachusetts/

[babyrunsforfanfic]

Mom & Dad | s.h.

summary: in which you and steve talk about what the future holds for the two of you

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, FLUFF, i just wanted to write a really fluffy fluff piece ok ok, talk about babies like reader and steve cheesy go in depth about babies and their life ok, picture that one convo where steve is talking about his future 6 little nuggets but it’s with someone who wants that too, no bad things happened everyone is alive and well and no one is unalived my house my rules everybody, the reader is kind of golden retriever-esque and yeah, CASUAL DOMINANCE from steve bc uh have y’all seen him ik you have

wc: 1325ish

•••

steve harrington hummed as he rubbed his cheek against the top of your hand, a faint smile curved on his cheek. he peppered a couple of kisses on your knuckles, before you squealed as he nipped at one of your rings.

“you’re gonna crack a tooth!” you whined, leaning to jab at his side with your freed hand. steve let out a huff, before he pressed a soft kiss to your ring, and then dropping your joined hands to rest against your leg “stevie? ‘m love you.”

“i love you, pretty girl.” steve leaned across the center console of his car to press a soft kiss to your forehead, before he took to tapping on your knee. “was thinking about you today, when i took the gremlins to school this morning.”

“yeah?” you turned, eyes bright as you batted your eyelashes toward your boyfriend. “thinking of how pretty i am? how i so deserve a neopolitan milkshake?”

“you want to go to benny’s later don’t you?” steve quirked his brow, and you nodded with a grin as he let out a laugh. steve continued to laugh as he pulled out of your driveway. “god you’re so lucky you are ridiculously adorable.”

steve watched from the corner of his eye as you playfully huffed, dropping his hand and crossing your arms over your chest. it was only for a bit though, as you perked up seeing a yellow labrador retriever being walked along the sidewalk. steve came to a stop at the stop light, barely biting his smile back as you craned your neck behind you to keep an eye on the dog.

“can we get one when we live together?” your question fell so easily from your lips, that steve barely felt his heart skip. a car honking made steve move again, and he pressed back onto the gas as he started driving again.

“what, you want a lab?” steve questioned, and you nodded quickly, shyly smiling. “surprised you don’t want a golden retriever.”

“want one of those too.” you giggled, and steve watched from his peripheral as you folded one of your knees to your chest.

“put that down, not safe.” steve pressed his left hand firmly to the steering wheel, before flicking his thumb and pointer against your knee. “if we got into a wreck that’d hurt you, put your pretty leg down.”

you listened almost instantly, and instead grappled for steve’s hand, entwining his fingers with your own.

“figured maybe when we moved into a house, y’know?” you explained, tapping a finger against steve’s hand. “little yard, white picket fence that way our dogs could run around.”

“thought about this a lot, huh?” steve teased, and you nodded as he pulled into the parking lot of hawkins high school.

“yeah.” you shrugged, fiddling with the sleeve of the sweater steve had let you borrow. “figured we’d get settled down, i mean one day this’ll be us.”

you gestured around you, smiling as you looked to the middle school and high school buildings.

“we’ll be ugly brick buildings?” steve teased, and he grinned as he listened to you groan and throw your head against the headrest with a small thud.

“no!” you whined, waving your hands around in front of you. “one day we’ll have kids, y’know?”

“oh.” steve swallowed, before he sent you a faint smile. “and what’ll these kids be like?”

“oh my god- so, they’ll honestly be such nerds it won’t even be funny.” you giggled, eyes wide as you unrolled steve’s passenger side window. “but it’ll be okay because they might be little jocks- i mean they’ll be ours so they’ll be good, y’know?”

“like the party?” steve asked softly, and steve just watched as you let out a fond little sigh.

“of course like the party!” you grinned, an ear to ear thing that made steve’s heart ache. “they’ll be such smart asses, but our little smart asses! and they’ll have your hair-”

“but your eyes.” steve smoothly cut in, and he turned in his seat to be able to face you more.

“my eyes?” you repeated, and steve grinned wide as he propped his elbow on his center console so he could watch you. “really?”

“oh yeah.” steve leaned forward and pinched your nose playfully, reveling in the shy way you dipped your chin and batted your eyes at him. “and we’ll have a shitty camper van, travel every summer when they’re out of school and see the world.”

“how many?” you squealed, eyes wide, turning even more in your seat, barely noticing that steve undid your seatbelt so it wouldn’t bite into your neck. “like three boys and-”

“three girls.” steve grinned, leaning closer to you. “you, me, all of them loaded into a camper. drive around and see the rockies and the grand canyon, maybe even yellowstone.”

“end up in california!” you added, squealing as you grinned widely up at steve. steve hummed, a fond smile spread on his face as he wiggled his fingers into your side so you’d laugh again. “all of us harringtons could end up in a little beach-side town, learn how to surf and catch sand dollars.”

“yes!” steve grinned, leaning his head against his headrest so he could still look at you. “us and our little brood of harringtons.”

“i’d like that.” you nodded, tapping your fingertips against the back of steve’s hand. “oh my god us being on the pta and doing scouts!”

“you just want an excuse to keep boxes of girl scout cookies in the freezer.” steve teased, and he laughed when you didn’t make a move to deny it.

“oh my god, and we’d have a dog-” you grinned, thinking for a moment. “probably a fish.”

“a fish our kids begged us to get, but we end up taking care of.” steve joked and you nodded, a wide smile on your face. “and we’d gripe about us having to take care of it, but we really wouldn’t mind.”

“and we’d pay the neighbor’s kids to go and take care of them when we’re out of town.” you added, voice shy as you blinked up toward steve. “yeah?”

steve hummed leaning forward to curl one of his hands against your cheek. his thumb soothed gently across your cheekbone, following the swell of it as he nodded. he used his fingers to tilt your face up, his eyes focused on yours.

steve said nothing as he leaned forward and let out a soft sigh, before he brushed his lips across yours. you tasted sweet, like the bubblegum he kept specifically for you in his center console. you keened into his kiss, and steve couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped as he slid his free hand up so it could rest against the nape of your neck.

when you both pulled away, steve couldn’t help but smile at your kiss swollen pout. he leaned forward again and planted a softer kiss against your mouth, just in time to hear the school bell ring. you smiled shyly, pulling away from steve as you flipped the sun visor down. steve watched fondly as you used the mirror to right your hair, sliding a thumb under your lip to wipe away any smudged chapstick.

steve flipped the radio on, and sent you a wide smile as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. he smiled even wider somehow when you entwined the fingers of one of your hands with his, and he couldn’t help but pepper a couple more kisses along your knuckles.

yeah, he could see himself having a whole brood of harringtons.

ones with his hair, your eyes.

them calling you, mom and him, dad.

steve shook his head, unlocking the car as the party came into view. he listened to your squeal as you leaned out the car’s window- waving at the group of high school students frantically with your free hand.

yeah, he could definitely imagine that.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag beautiful @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @tellmegoodbye @honeybee-taskforce

@paperstorm @strandnreyes @ironheartwriter @lemonlyman-dotcom

@whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

From Poet Fic, Carlos is thinking about where all the love comes from:

Behind him, Trudie talks about a smart little bluebird that just landed on her picket fence, how such pretty birds don’t know or care about the ugliness of the urban blight that surrounds them, the utilitarian grimness of cop cars that intimidatingly fill the cul-de-sac. It sends Carlos back to a moment in his own, very different kitchen over a year ago. His kitchen with its exposed brick and sleek cupboards and black tiles with white grout and a huge gunmetal fridge. This kitchen has creamy yellow walls, melamine cabinets, chintzy plates on the wall, a small white fridge with cartoonish magnets, his firearm tucked away in the crisper drawer.

Gwyn was visiting with baby Jonah. Carlos had Jonah in his arms, the bright-eyed baby squeezing Carlos’ pointer finger and trying to put it in his mouth. He was wearing a pale blue onesie patterned with stylishly illustrated bluebirds. TK was stirring a bubbling pot of cholent and arguing with his mother about aspects of the recipe. TK followed steps from a website; Gwyn recalled her bubbe’s method. Except her bubbe’s method was to just throw in all the ingredients and somehow magic came out. Carlos understood. His abuela cooked the same way, it’s how things used to work, there were generations raised on cultural magic.

“And now it’s the boring old internet,” Gwyn hollered from over by the spice rack.

“You literally use the internet every day, just like we do,” TK retorted.

“Not to cook!” she said.

Gwyn rolled her eyes at her oldest son and sauntered over to Carlos to check on her baby, whose determined face lit up with a gummy smile as she came into view. She laid a hand on Carlos shoulder and said, “You’re so good with him.”

Carlos didn’t know if she meant her big baby or her little baby. To cover all bases, he said, “I love him.”

“I know you do,” Gwyn’s voice echoes through Trudie’s kitchen.

He feels the press of a hand against his shoulder. He’s sweating through his white henley, stinks something nasty, can smell himself. The hand stays there.

“How are you doing?” Gwyn says. Or said. He doesn’t know. “Do you want me to take him from you?”

“No,” Carlos says. Said. Thinks. “Don’t take him back. I’ve got him.”

Open tag and tags below:

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand @goodways

@lightningboltreader @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @ladytessa74

@never-blooms @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo

@chicgeekgirl89 @freneticfloetry @theghostofashton @sugdenlovesdingle

@herefortarlos @fitzherbertssmolder @orchidscript

@three-drink-amy @carlos-tk @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @kiwichaeng @literateowl

@safeaswrites @captain-gillian @nancys-braids

@sapphic--kiwi @emsprovisions - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[fandomnerd9602]

Proposal

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

For @lifespectator

Things were finally slowing down for the Avengers, Earth finally had a little bit of peace. Tony had retired, Steve went back in time. But for Wanda, there was still one thing that alluded her.

Wanda always wanted a family. It always alluded her. She had yet to truly fall in love. No real dates or engagements. But yet she always had you, her best friend. You were her support on most field missions.

The two of you hung out after missions. Little lunch hangouts, times at the movies, the record shops. Wanda always felt normal with you. Honestly it surprised her that you didn’t have anyone in your life yet.

“Surely you could find yourself a girlfriend” Wanda found herself laughing one night.

“Hey if I’m not too busy saving the world, I’m saving you” you respond with a smile.

Wanda always looked forward to hanging out with her best friend. You were there for her thru every heartache and painful memory.

But now things were changing. The Avengers were coming to an end. The world was safe and Thanos was gone. Tony had settled down. Steve went back in time to be with Peggy. And all Wanda could think about was her next step.

“You are you don’t wished to be trained?” Wong asks Wanda as she packs up her things.

“I-I think it’s time I retire,” Wanda states, “I-I want to be a mother. I want a home in the suburbs and…I can’t get that as an Avenger”

“Motherhood” Wong smirks, “some would say it’s more dangerous than being a superhero”

“The hardest part is trying find a donor. Someone to be the father of my kids” Wanda rubs her neck shyly. “I-I did think of someone”

“Who?”

“(Y/N)” she gives a nervous laugh.

“Y/N?” Wong simply summons a portal and leaves, “good luck Maximoff”

Wanda finishes packing her belongings from her room. She couldn’t help but smile. You were her first choice. Her only choice really. Honestly she couldn’t think of anyone else, she didn’t want anyone else.

Wanda’s thoughts were disrupted by the sudden sound of her ringtone. A simple glance to her phone reveals your name on her caller ID.

“Hey Red” you smile from your end of the phone call.

“Hey” Wanda smiles.

“I bought a little house in Westview, a couple miles from the compound” you explain, “I was wondering if you’d come and see it with me”

“Y-yeah” Wanda found herself giggling. A little house hunting with her best friend.

You and Wanda drive to the address, as you told her, a couple miles from the compound in the cozy little town of Westview. It was still trying to recover after the Snap, like all towns were. But it's property costs were low and the value was only rising.

"And here we are" you smile as you pull outside a two story suburban house. It had a classic brick style to it with a white picket fence. Wanda couldn't help but gasp. It was everything she ever dreamed of, like a long forgotten desire.

"You have a great eye" Wanda whispers.

You pull out the key, "Wanna take a look?"

Every step, every moment that Wanda spent in that house. It made her fall in love with it, more and more. Spending each moment with you, how you talked about your dreams for the place, it all made her fall for you more and more too.

Wanda found herself dreaming of the life she could have in this house with you. Your children taking their first steps. Your first Christmas in this house with her.

"I-It's a lot of room for just one person" Wanda remarks as your guided tour came to an end.

"Well I'm gonna need a roommate" you rub the back of your neck, "figured you might be interest?"

Wanda nodded so fiercely, "yes! I'd love to."

Moving day was fast approaching and yet Wanda was still unsure of how to approach you with her little proposal. She never thought it'd be so difficult to ask someone such a question. But even practicing it in the mirror left her tongue tied.

You finished moving all the boxes of your stuff and hers into the house. You gave Wanda the master bedroom, you were more than happy taking the guest room. Wanda glances down the hallway from the master bedroom. There was still two empty rooms. Perfect, in her mind, for two kids.

You rolled out a sleeping bag in your room. "Where's your bed?" Wanda asks

"Still in the mail." you huff, "never had to buy one when I was an Avenger."

"Well mine's already assembled, you can sleep with me" Wanda said nonchalantly, she immediately found herself going beet red. "I-I mean we can share a bed...I-I-"

You laugh, "I got what you mean, Red. Come on downstairs, I got take out ready for us"

You got the fireplace lit and a little TV set up for Wanda. It didn't take her long to locate a network playing the Dick Van Dyke show. You and Wanda spend the better part of the evening talking about old memories at the compound.

"Y/N" Wanda found herself swallowing hard. "I-I think I know what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"Alright Red, tell me" you smile at her.

"I want a family." Wanda takes a deep breath, "I want kids. I want a white picket fence. I-I want to be a mother"

"Wow" you reply, "I think you'd be perfect at that"

"Really?"

"Yeah" you smile, 'you'd be an amazing mother. I can see it now, you'd cheer for your kids at every game. You'd be an amazing guide for them. Knowing you, you'd be perfect at that. Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mother. I just hope that I'm there to see it"

Wanda blushes and blurts out, "I want you to be the father of my kids"

"Me?" you find yourself in shock

"I shouldn't have said that," Wanda tries to get up but you take her hand

"You want me to be their father?" you can feel some tears forming in your eyes.

"I-I mean we can go through a fertility clinic" Wanda tries to explain, "but honestly you're so kind and loving and I can't think of anyone else that I'd want to be the father of my kids. I-I love you."

"I've always loved you" you whisper back. "I-I was okay just being your friend. I-I thought that's all you wanted."

Wanda wraps her arms around your neck. Your hands move instinctively to her waist.

"So will you?" Wanda smiles, "please?"

"I want strings" you smile back, "I want to be there for you through it all."

Wanda giggles, "I'll take it. You, me, strings and all" She laughs with pure joy.

You pull her into a kiss. Her breath hitches. It felt so small and yet so perfect too. She kisses you back. First once then twice.

"Y/N?" she asks you in a gentle whisper

"Hmm?"

"Will you take me upstairs?" She wraps her legs around your waist as you hold her tight. Her eyes stare into yours with all the intent in the world.

"Oh? Oh." you figure it out before nodding and carrying her up the stairs and to her room. Wanda giggles the whole way.

Friends become lovers and lovers eventually become parents. The pathway for Wanda to find her family was a long and painful road. Luckily she met you, her best friend. The one who made that little house in Westview feel like a home.

[harmonyrae]

Power Couple

CHAPTER 7 - House on the Hill

It's time for the angst to level up... You & Sylus finally meet and begin your partnership to find the mysterious protocore. But is it a business dinner or a date? Even you can't tell anymore...

VISUALS: Dress Inspo: https://shorturl.at/imEwy Heels Inspo: https://shorturl.at/PcIm3 Visualize the Settings: https://shorturl.at/3XOoh

You sit in front of the vanity in your bathroom for a full hour before you finally work up the courage to start getting ready. How are you supposed to dress for this? Professional or sexy? Or both? Why are you so nervous about this? Why are you overthinking? Why are you…

Ding

A message from the burner phone that you have placed right in front of you on the vanity. You finish blending your contour before looking at the message.

(Sylus) Not long now. You’re not second guessing our deal are you?

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, tapping powder under your eyes. You love the game. Even though you feel like an idiot, you are loving every second of it. So no, you are not second guessing. You type out a quick reply.

(You) Why would I? I’ll see you in an hour.

You spend extra time on your liner to make sure it’s perfect. Well, as perfect as it can get. You take the curlers out of your hair and run a brush through it. Big soft curls, smokey eyes, rosy lips. You smile. The night will be over soon and you won’t have to think about him for another month. Unless you want to...

You pull a dress out of your closet. A dress you haven’t worn in ages. The soft black fabric wraps around you tightly, hitting your curves just right. The sheer fabric drapes off your shoulders accentuating your collarbone. The fabric continues down your arms, hanging loosely. You twirl your upper body back and forth, the extra fabric of the sleeves flowing around you. You grab a pair of shoes, thick heels with wraps to secure your ankles. At least you won’t trip tonight. 

Ding

You pick up your purse and the burner phone off your bed. You spritz your perfume on as you read Sylus’ new message. 

(Sylus) Just making sure. I look forward to seeing you, kitten.

You don’t bother to hide your smile. You will never admit it to anyone that you like his little nickname for you. But you fully intend to give him shit for it. You open your bedroom door to find Dorian waiting on the couch. He looks up to you and his mouth falls open. 

“Okay, what are you doing Y/N? Is this a business deal or a date?” The tips of his ears turn pink.

“You know better than anyone what I am capable of. I’m just making sure I have an edge.” Dorian rubs his eyes and stands, offering you his arm. You take it. 

“Well, you’ll certainly have the upper hand tonight. I guess I can only wish you luck.” He guides you through your front door and down the elevator.

The drive was quiet other than Dorian reviewing the escape plan and code words. You reviewed them in your head over and over. You were ready. Or ready as you’ll ever be. 

When the driver begins to scale, what Dorian referred to as “a small mountain,” you start to get anxious. After what seems like an eternity, the car pulls into the long driveway. You gasp at how beautiful the house is. Most houses in the N109 Zone are concrete. No white picket fences or rose bushes. But this house, it’s gorgeous. A brick facade, pointed scalloped roofs, a bright red door, the trees and bushes are trimmed and shaped. There’s a large stone fountain that sits in the front yard. You spot a gazebo surrounded by flowers next to the driveway that circles around the back where you assume the underground garage is. The backyard is full of huge trees, lights and what looks like more flower beds. You spot a hot tub and pool surrounded by string lights.This house was even nicer than some houses you saw in Linkon.

The car parks and you watch a large box truck, containing the protocore shipment, circle around back to descend into the garage. You walk up to the red door and ring the doorbell. Dorian is still in the car, watching you through the window. You give him a wave as if to say, “Go away!” But the car doesn’t move.

“I thought for a second you weren’t going to show.” Sylus stands in the doorway, eyes locked on yours. Jesus, how? How is he even more attractive? His sleek black suit must have been tailored just for him. His dark gray dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to feed your overactive imagination. His collarbone, the subtle definition of his pecks… A simple gold chain hangs around his neck and it glitters in the afternoon sun. You take a mental image, you’ll need it for later.

“You doubted me? Hurtful.” The fact you kept your composure and gave a sassy response, you impressed yourself. 

You glance over your shoulder and glare at Dorian. He finally relents and you see him say something to the driver before the car slowly pulls off down the driveway. You turn back to Sylus. He turns to make room for you to pass him in the doorway. 

The inside is just as beautiful as the outside. A stunning staircase sweeping off to the left, a huge entryway full of artwork, plush chairs and tables with vases. Sylus leads you through the living room. More paintings cover the walls, velvet couches, pristine wooden floors and a crackling fireplace welcome you. You journey through a spotless kitchen, a chef already preparing the dinner you and Sylus will be sharing. And god, it smells heavenly. Sylus opens a door in the hallway revealing a steep staircase. He turns to you, offering you his hand. You squint at him, but he only smiles back. You take his hand and he leads you down the stairs. 

You reach the door at the bottom of the stairs and Sylus opens it to reveal the underground garage. The box truck is already parked and the driver is leaning against it. You approach him and give him an envelope - a down payment for the extra weekend work. He smiles and gets into the passenger seat, tipping his hat over his eyes and settling in to take a nap.

Sylus is around the back of the truck talking to someone. When you finally see who he is speaking with, your eyes widen. Two men, both in black suits, ginger curls, both holding masks listening to Sylus with rapt attention. Sylus looks over to you and both men turn to meet your gaze. One of them gasps audibly, while slightly dramatic, you can’t blame him. 

“You!” Luke half-shouts. You smile and give him a wave.

“Hi Luke. How’ve you been?” Luke looks to his brother before staring at the floor. 

“Wait, is this-?” Before the other man could finish, Luke grabs his wrist and pulls him toward the staircase. 

“Kieran, Luke, find me if anything matches.” Sylus shouts after them as the boys run up the stairs. 

“I should say I’m sorry.” You say under your breath. Sylus huffs out a laugh.

“Luke getting kidnapped was just what he needed. He needed to toughen up.” Sylus opens the back of the truck to examine the neat rows of boxes, each filled to the brim with protocores.

“So how are you going to search all these boxes in one day?” 

“Why do you think I brought Luke and Kieran? They know what to look for and they’ll bring it to me to confirm. So, I think it’s about time I give you a proper tour of this place. What do you say?” Sylus smiles and gives you a wink. You find yourself holding your breath again.

“As long as there’s a glass of wine in my hands.” 

You finally catch Sylus in the act. His eyes trailing down your body. When he locks eyes with you, he doesn’t attempt to hide the fact he was staring at you. He reaches out his hand to you once more. And, once again, you take it, allowing him to lead you up the stairs. This time he brings his other hand to the small of your back. You’re glad the stairwell is dark to hide your smile.

Once you’re both back in the kitchen, Sylus grabs the bottle of Le Macchiole Messorio from the picture he sent you and two glasses. He walks over to the living room and sits on the couch. He pours the wine and motions for you to sit beside him. 

“I opened her up about 30 minutes ago. I was worried you’d arrive late and miss getting a taste when it’s at its peak.” Sylus holds a glass out for you. You take it with a smile.

“Good thing I wasn’t late.” You take a sip and close your eyes to enjoy the rich flavor. You’ve been drinking sweet wines for a while, not cheap, but nothing nearly this expensive and exquisite. When you open your eyes, you catch Sylus staring at you again over the rim of his wine glass.

“So the tour?” He takes a sip of his wine and stands, waiting for you to follow him.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human

Chapter 1: https://shorturl.at/Bx95C Chapter 2: https://shorturl.at/3PwTi Chapter 3: https://shorturl.at/a7xnF Chapter 4: https://shorturl.at/fKYgX Chapter 5: https://shorturl.at/7YtTh Chapter 6: https://shorturl.at/cMCj7

[meropegaaunt]

WEST COAST

Billy Dunne x reader

Implied eventual Graham Dunne x reader

Summary: The love between two best friends toes the line between platonic and romantic.

Warnings: Kid on kid violence, fighting, angst, alcohol, and attempted kissing

Word Count: 2,359 words

© Meropegaaunt 2023

GRAHAM DUNNE (lead guitar, The Six): Growing up, Y/N and Billy were, like, best friends. I mean, God, they were close, so close you never saw one without the other.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

You, Y/N L/N, grew up in a small suburb outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Said suburb was small, quaint, filled with red-brick houses and white picket fences. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The rich thrived, having two or three properties in their name and far too many zeros in their checking accounts, but the majority struggled to make ends meet, to even keep a roof over their heads. You were part of the majority, but your father, F/N L/N, did everything in his power to ensure that you lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the struggles that weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. He had two jobs, one as a music teacher and one as a bar manager. Endless hours had been spent slaving away at those jobs in an attempt to ensure you were given every opportunity to succeed, and luckily, you were.

Truth be told, you had not the faintest idea of your dire living circumstances, because your father showered you in love and affection, making everything, even the most mundane tasks, seem like an adventure. He had a way with people, a way that he passed on to you, which was why at school, you got on well with your classmates. You got on best with Billy and Graham Dunne, though, two brothers that shared your true love: music.

(Your friendship did not have an easy beginning, though. Not by a long shot, because even at a young age, Billy had trouble letting people close. Your first encounter with him was in passing. Names had been exchanged, but there was no inkling of what would bloom between the two of you. That inkling did not come until a boy two years older than you and Billy and four years older than Graham came around looking to give Billy a hard time. He found Graham instead, who became his victim of circumstance. You happened upon the scene just in time to see the boy deliver a harsh kick to Graham’s ribs, and that sight alone was enough for you to see red and abandon all common sense. It mattered not that he was your superior in both age and size. All that mattered was that Graham, who had only ever shown you kindness and civility, was frightened and bleeding and needed help, which was why you threw caution to the wind, ran forward, and thundered, “Hey, that’s my friend you’re kicking!” In an instant, you two were on the ground, grappling violently atop the dirt path. The boy pawed at your face, pulling at your locks while you pressed on his throat. His efforts broke your skin and knocked your nose askew, yet your hold stayed firm, just as F/N had shown you. You hunched forward, pale with rage as he writhed about, trying futilely to get free. Each action made his throat tighter, though, so his attempts hastily slowed down. He gasped, his eyes growing hazy from the wild thrumming of the blood in his head. It was only after oxygen escaped him for a beat that you lessened your grip and retreated with Graham, though, your feet flying over the earth until you found Billy. That day, covered in blood and dirt, he deemed you all right.)

Seeing your love for music, your father found and salvaged an old guitar for you, a Gibson Les Paul that had seen far better days. It had suffered much hurt and misuse, but he searched out alternatives for each decaying piece, eventually returning it to its former glory. You basked in its glory, showing it off to the Dunne brothers with stars in your eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun in intensity. They had an old Silvertone guitar, so the three of you began learning how to play, going through much trial and error before discovering what worked and what did not.

Your musical range evolved as you entered your teenage years, especially when Billy and Graham’s mother, Marlene, bought them an old Strat. Armed with three guitars, you delved into songwriting, thus laying the foundation for what eventually became one of the world’s most beloved rock bands.

You were there at the nanscene of the Dunne Brothers band, long before its first additions — drummer Warren Rhodes, bassist Chuck Williams, and rhythm guitarist Eddie Roundtree — were brought on. You did not have a designated title, though. Instead, you played whatever part was needed, whether that be a singer, guitarist, or keyboardist. The band worked whatever gig it could, whether that be at house parties, seedy bars, or dance clubs.

Around that time, you had noticed that you had physically changed, had grown into your own. Your friends had, too, but you did not realize until one of the nights when the band had played at a seedy bar. There had been various acts of violence committed at said bar, but this particular night, a man who was out of his mind on drugs had started swinging. Hands had been thrown, landing hits upon bar attendants, but then, he had come for you . . . You had not seen it coming, too engrossed in your music, which was why there was no time for you to react, to defend yourself. Your eyes snapped up, catching sight of the fist flying your way, but it never made contact with your face. Before it could, Billy collided with the man, hitting him with enough force that he was sent crashing to the ground.

You blinked once, twice, thrice, pure, unfettered shock keeping you rooted in place. It was only when a warm, familiar hand landed upon your shoulder that you snapped out of it, the shock wearing off. “Thanks, Billy,” you breathed, your eyes rising to meet his emerald ones. “I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged, a mischievous look flitting across his face. “Couldn’t let him take you out before I do.”

“Ah, that’s not happening,” you remarked, unable to conceal your amusement. He had tried to sweet talk you before, had even gone as far to use his go-to pick-up line: If you let me take you out I’ll write a song about you. The pick-up line had not worked, though, for you had shot back: No, thanks, Dunne. If I want there to be a song about me, I’ll write it myself. “The day we start dating bandmates is the day the Dunne Brothers is over.”

Perhaps if he was being serious, you would consider going on a date with him, but you truly believed that he was not, that he was simply being his typical coquettish self. Despite this, in the future, you will think that this perhaps was the moment when you first realized that you loved him, that you were in love with him . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

BILLY DUNNE (lead singer, The Six): We got hired for this wedding. It was a big deal. A wedding meant we were gonna be heard by, you know, a hundred people. I think I was nineteen.

We had auditioned for this couple with our best song. It was this slower, folkier song Y/N and I had written called “Nevermore.” Just thinking about it makes me cringe. Truly. I was writing about the Catonsville Nine and things like that. I thought I was Dylan. But we got this gig.

And about halfway through our show at this wedding, this fifty-something guy catches Y/N on a water break and pulls them onto the dance floor. I see and think, Does this guy know what a creep he looks like? And then I realize it’s my dad.

GRAHAM: Our father was there, all over Y/N, completely unaware he was making them uncomfortable. I realized it before Billy, I think. Recognized him from the pictures our mom kept in the shoe box under her bed.

Y/N L/N (singer, The Six): I didn’t originally know it was Mr. Dunne that had pulled me onto the dance floor that night. I mean, plenty of older men go after younger people. It’s not great, it’s just how it is. Not wanting to start a scene, I danced with him until Billy came down off the stage and pulled me away. Afterward, he told me who he was, and it just . . . made me sick. Mr. Dunne looked right at Billy, his son, and didn’t recognize him. How is that possible? How is that fair?

BILLY: I couldn’t believe it. He’d been gone ten years by that point. And he was supposed to be in Georgia. The asshole was just standing in the middle of the dance floor, no idea his sons were up onstage or that he was dancing with their best friend. I put an end to that. I got off stage and pulled them apart. Y/N was confused as hell, but I explained who he was.

GRAHAM: Billy asked a few people at the wedding about him. Turns out our father had been living a few towns over. Friends with the bride or something. Y/N was furious, saying, “You know what, fuck him. You guys are the best. If he can’t see that, that’s his problem, not yours.” They were right. He was a drunk asshole anyway. So good riddance to him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Seeing the response — or lack thereof — from Mr. Dunne infuriated you. He had laid eyes upon his sons for the first time in a decade, and there had been no recognition, no remorse. He had helped bring them into the world, had raised them for five and seven years respectively, but then, when given the opportunity to reconnect, he treated them like strangers, like they meant nothing.

Your father had loved you dearly, had done everything in his power to protect you, which was why such a poor excuse of a man was hard to wrap your head around. You tried, though, even going as far as to snag a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to lessen your inhibitions, to think outside of the box. Unfortunately, the whiskey did not offer any answers about Mr. Dunne, but it did cause your budding feelings for Billy to spill out, to make themselves known.

He too had taken in alcohol, had consumed beer after beer, but Billy, for a reason you did not know, held his alcohol better. That was why when you took a seat next to him with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand, he looked relatively put together. You, on the other hand, looked simultaneously attractive and disheveled. It was paradoxical, but the sight of you, with your warm cheeks and wild hair, lit a fire within him, a fire whose flames threatened to consume him, to devour him whole.

“Billy,” you breathed his name, leaning through the dark so that your faces were mere millimeters apart, causing your breaths to mingle. “Your dad is a real prick, but I’m — I’m glad you’re not like him. You’re a real great guy. The best.”

“I’m not,” he refuted, knowing that your tongue had been loosened by the alcohol. When sober, you were generous with your words, but not like this. Not to this degree. “I’ve made some dumbass decisions. You know that better than anyone—“

“And yet, I still love you,” you cut him off, leaning impossibly closer. You had contemplated kissing him a handful of times since that night in the bar, but had yet to work up enough nerve to do so. Now, when you were feeling brazen, it would be so quick, so easy. All you had to do was bridge the gap between your faces . . . You made to do so, to press your lips to his, but he pulled away, moving out of your range. A mixture of hurt and confusion crossed your features then, followed by uncertainty. “Do you not want to—“

“Not like this,” he shook his head, because even though the flirtatious comments sent your way held truth, he would not allow you to make such a drastic move when drunk. Not with him. “If you remember this tomorrow, we can figure things out, Y/N.”

In a perfect world, you would remember this conversation the next day. You and Billy would communicate and sort out your feelings together, but this world was not perfect. In this world, you did not remember your advances on Billy, which was why when he met the foxy, dark-haired Camila Martinez, he pursued her . . .

─── ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ───

WARREN RHODES (drummer, The Six): In the summer and fall of ‘69, we were all really starting to get laid, man. And Billy was taking himself off the market. We’d all be with chicks and he’d be sitting there, smoking a joint, having a beer to keep himself busy. I came out of a girl’s room one time, zipping my pants up, and Billy was sitting on the sofa, watching Dick Cavett. I knew Y/N loved Billy. Hell, by that point, I think everyone except Billy knew. So I said, “Man, you gotta ditch that girlfriend.” Don’t get me wrong; we all liked Camila, she was foxy and she’d tell you your business right to your face, which I liked. But c’mon. Y/N isn’t the sort of person you want to miss out on an opportunity with.

Y/N: I wanted to hate Camila. It would have been easier that way, if she was terrible to Billy, if she made him unhappy, but she didn’t. She grounded him, made him a better version of himself, so there really was no choice but for me to take a step back, to put some distance between Billy and I.

GRAHAM: It killed Y/N to give Billy and Camila space, but they did. Because they loved him, and that . . . that took a lot of selflessness. I think, maybe, that might have been when I started falling in love with them.

[janksfatass]

Pt. 1

Warnings: Tumultuous marriage, nothing spicy… yet.

Word Count: 1700

F!Reader x OC, F!Reader x Jake

Plot: Reader is in a loveless marriage and attends a charity event at a mansion for her husband’s new job. She decides to explore and ends up meeting the owner of the home. He then takes her on his own tour. Was she getting in over her head?

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing? We were supposed to leave 10 minutes ago!”

You sit up from fastening your heel and take a deep breath before responding, “I’m coming down now!” You grab your clutch off the bed and take one last look in the mirror to preen and check for any imperfections.

Tonight was some sort of charity ball that your husband was invited to by his coworkers at a new consulting firm. You had met Steven in college and from the beginning your relationship was never built on passion or love but rather logic. He was smart, getting a degree in something admirable and not to mention easy on the eyes. After graduation you had the picture perfect wedding and bought a house with the proverbial white picket fence. That was a year ago. Now your days mostly consist of going running your boutique and coming home to make dinner (which you more often than not eat alone). Then winding down with a glass or two of wine and your trusty rose. Sex wasn’t really a component of your marriage anymore. With Steven’s long hours you hardly spent any time together at all and when you did it was mostly spent screaming at each other. This isn’t the life you had pictured for yourself at 25 but it is what it is.

You make your way down the steps and there is Steven waiting for you in his all black suit with a silver mask covering half of his face.

“Let’s go, we're already late.” He grabs your arm and practically drags you out to the car that’s been waiting on you. You wince at his touch, “Why is it so important that we’re exactly on time anyways? Isn’t it just a party?”

“It’s not just a party, it's THE party. Everyone important will be there and it’s a prime opportunity to network, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Ok then…” you climb into the car and place your clutch in your lap.

The ride there was uncomfortably silent but not unusual. Steven pulls onto a side road that leads up a mountain. The road begins as gravel and then becomes paved about halfway up. At the very top sits a large white brick mansion with black trim. The mass of a driveway is lined with Bentleys, McLarens and the like, meanwhile you’re sitting in a 5 year old Mercedes C class.

“Who’s house is this?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about it, come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you out of the car up to the double doors which are being guarded by a large bald man.

“Password?”

“Luna.” Steven replies in a semi hushed tone.

The man opens the doors and you both walk inside. You’re greeted by a massive foyer with a double staircase that looks like it belongs in a vampiric film. The interior of the home almost takes your breath away. Charcoal walls, black marble floors, silver accents adorning the room and crystal chandeliers half the size of your car hanging over your head.

Soft jazz is coming from a room nearby. You follow Steven to the ballroom where you see about 200 people. Some standing in groups talking and some gliding with one another across the floors.

You turn to Steven,“Can we get a drink?”

“You go ahead I’ll be over here.”

You roll your eyes and make your way to the bar. You greet the bartender, “Hi, can I get a glass of champagne please?” He acknowledges your order and you turn around to scope the room. Middle aged men and their too young wives. Decrepit Vanderbilt types that resemble walking corpses. The amount of money in this room could probably end poverty for the whole country. Doctors, lawyers, philanthropists, businessmen, and a few that you wouldn’t be shocked if they were involved with organized crime, all mingling amongst each other.

You finish your drink and spot your husband across the room and walk over to him. He continues his conversation as though you weren’t even there, not even taking a moment to introduce you. After 20 minutes of conversations about new businesses and architecture, you grow increasingly bored.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You give the group a polite smile and nod then go back into the foyer to ask the doorman where the bathroom is.

“Up the stairs, to the left and then it’s the first door on your right.”

You walk up the staircase and enter the bathroom. You’re immediately drawn to the giant mirror encased in an ornate frame of delicately carved flowers and foliage. Jesus this guy is ridiculous. As you sit, you look around and your mind starts to drift thinking about what kind of man would have a home this extravagant. ‘He probably has a trophy wife with big fake tits and a bbl. Maids and chefs to do all the work while she sits and looks pretty. What a fucking dream.’ You finish up and wash your hands. When you re enter the hallway you decide to explore a little. Steve won’t even notice you’re gone honestly.

You begin to peek into the rooms down the hall, noting the spacious bedrooms and also a theater room. What really grabs your attention is the study. You step into the room and the walls are top to bottom shelves filled with books. You notice a few familiar names, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, The Alchemist, etc. You walk around the desk and see out on the balcony there’s a small seating area and a large telescope pointed at the sky. You step outside and begin looking through it, searching for constellations.

“Lovely night isn’t it?” You jump at the raspy voice coming from behind you and quickly spin around.

“Y-yea it is. It’s very clear tonight. Not a cloud in the sky.” Your throat is dry as you eye up the man.

He’s small in stature but appears fairly sturdy nonetheless. The top half of his face is covered with a black mask but you can see a neatly trimmed mustache sitting above his heart shaped lips. His long hair pulled back into a bun. Very well dressed. Donning a gray suit. He has on black button down with what appears to be only the bottom two buttons secured, revealing a smooth chest that he’s decorated with a few necklaces that hold coin pendants. He has an Italian leather belt around his waist that matches the loafers on his feet.

“This is my second favorite room in my home. Especially on nights like tonight.”

“This house is YOURS?!” You choke out.

“You seem surprised. Why?”

“I guess I expected an old crusty bastard to live in something like this. Something so… over the top.”

“Well that’s one thing about me. I tend to have a habit of enjoying the more lavish things this life has to offer.” He takes a sip of what appears to be whiskey in his glass.

“I can see that… You said this is your second favorite room. What is your favorite?”

“I could tell you.. but I think I’d rather show you. Would you like a tour?” He asks and you notice he’s now returning the favor of eyeing you up and down. Seemingly taking a few extra moments on your curves and specifically the neckline of your dress that cuts just below your sternum.

He extends an arm towards you. You look down at his hand as you reach for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you. Telling you that you shouldn’t go with this stranger but there’s something about him. Something Alluring... Dangerous... Sinful even. ‘Fuck it.’ You place your hand in his and instantly electricity shoots through you. It feels as though you’ve just sealed a deal with the devil himself.

He walks you through the maze that is his home, showing you a billiard room with a bar, an indoor pool, his office space, numerous guest rooms and finally, the master bedroom. Each space was decorated in a way that you’ve come to realize is very on par with his personality. Dark and luxurious. His bedroom was no exception.

He lets go of your hand and snakes his arm around you with his hand resting on your lower back. His thumb gently strokes your exposed skin. He guides you through the doorway and flicks the light switch. The room illuminates in a red glow. In the center of the room sits a four post bed with an extravagant wrought iron headboard. You notice above the bed, there’s a circular mirror on the ceiling. ‘Strange.’

“Why is there a mirror up there?” You question innocently.

“Why do you think there’s a mirror up there?” He gives you a look that immediately connects the dots in your brain and you feel your cheeks begin to flush.

“Oh right... Naturally. Okay.” You feel your throat becoming dry once again.

“Well go on, take a look around.”

You follow his instructions and begin to explore the huge room. Another bookcase that reaches the ceiling. His closet could be another bedroom in itself, filled with designer suits and Italian shoes, silk ties and rows of shirts. The bathroom contains a freestanding tub that could probably hold 4 people and the shower about 8.

“Wow. This is absolutely…” You stop yourself as your eye catches an… elevator? You walk over to it and look at him. “Where does this go?”

“The basement.” He replies matter of factly.

“What’s down there?”

“Would you like to see?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Tell me what it is first. Is it like a dungeon or something?” You laugh.

“Well…”

Your laugh instantly ceases.

He smirks at you, watching the wheels begin to spin in your head. He can tell he’s piqued your curiosity.

“Well? Well what? Is it a dungeon or not?”

“Why don’t I show you and you can be the judge of that.”

You stop for a moment to think of what awaits you. “As long as you promise not to murder me.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

‘If I die, I die.’

He takes your hand again as the elevator dings and opens. The inside is wall to wall mirrors. You notice there’s only two buttons. One for his bedroom and one for wherever he’s taking you.

[carnalhaus]

american tradition: title card

subscribe to the substack here.

American Tradition paints an absurd idea of American life, almost cartoonish, with obnoxious usage of the flag, guns, and gas station slushies. It’s completely nonsensical, reminiscent of corn syrup blood and chainsaw massacres. All smiles over here, digital camera family moments punctuated with a severed head, because nothing means anything. I can kill ‘cause in God I trust. It’s evolution, baby! It’s herd behavior! 

Behind all this shocking, violent, bizarre, and brash imagery of the American dream, lies inklings of deeply rooted socioeconomic decline. Urban decay, the rust belt, generational trauma, the war on drugs, and the poverty stricken middle-of-nowhere. It’s a song and dance, an opera, an elaborate fictitious play attempting to make sense of gritty reality. The Northeast is a place of diners, forests, bricks, and factory-working-beauty. 

The culture expressed is something bleak: this is where you’re from, this is what you have, and this is all there is. The nonchalance and acceptance of violence is apart of you and your family before you. There is pride in being a pauper, nobody can take that from you like they took everything else. Cruelty is what it’s all about. Cruelty and hate. Hate and cruelty and no remorse. There aren’t enough mountain lions in the east to kill the deer anymore, but you are an American and you know the barrel of a shotgun like you know the holes in your fathers eyes. You are an American and you kill the weaker ones off like piebald fawns. 

Beautiful women roam around the American wasteland like wildcats, teeth yellow from nicotine and clothes too big or too small because Pizza Hut doesn’t pay well. Beautiful women who should be in magazines with Kate Moss, all cheekbones, pretty eyes, and squared shoulders, with nothing but Cookie Monster pajama pants and a Pure Leaf iced tea, because nothing means anything if the model scouters don’t see you eating Macdonald’s in the mall food court. This is Miss America, patron saint of the All American Massacre. 

There is beauty in the journey of traversing the highway on foot, dodging Ford Wranglers and Honda Civics like corpses reaching out from the River Styx. Barefoot and weary on hot pavement, roadkill in the sun lingering like souls bound to the spirit of the interstate. You hold the fast food bag in your hand like a hawk with a rodent, lukewarm from the journey and greasy with deep fried love, the true American way. Whether your slushie is red, blue, or melted by the sun, it’ll be warm and vibrant when the tremors make you vomit it up later either way, staining your teeth just the same. The Big Gulp and five dollar foot-longs become your saint attributes, what people will remember you by when you leave your things behind in your motel room. 

American Tradition is not white picket fences and jury duty. It’s your neighbor bringing you a plate of food. It’s hitting a buck in the road. It’s crying when your stalker dies. It’s the birth of a newborn. It’s warm, hard, and steely like the freshly fired metal in your pocket. 

US of A, land of the free, where I can get my gun from Walmart, freak out on fentanyl, and get gunned down by the cops all within the same Sunday, day of the lord. Nothing is sacred but the police and the republic, and God bless the holy war on drugs for the good of the people, amen. What’s two things you can put trust in? Your God, and your gun. Your what? Your God, and your gun. My God, and my gun. What’d I say? My God, and my gun. 

[slvtforfiction]

Highschool to military love PT.2

☆ Ghost X Reader

☆ Fluff/Smut

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned Post | Part 1

We walked past the kitchen to see no one there and decided to leave and meet them there.

We walked into the bar and saw the team in a booth with drinks ready,Ghost and me walked towards the bar and he asked what I was drinking, “Gin and tonic please.” I almost whispered.

“Go sit with the guys for the minute and I’ll bring our drinks over.” He told me, “Okay let me just-“ I began reaching in my bag for my purse and he shrugged me off, “I’ll pay,don’t worry princess.” He said, “No I don’t want to-“ and he interrupted, “Go sit down,I’ll be there in a minute.” It sounded like an order and I wasn’t going to test it further,I walked over to the table and sat down with my purse in my lap.

“Hey lass,looking good.” Johnnie said and I smiled back at him as I noticed ghost walked over to us at the table with our drinks in hand.

“Thanks Soap.” I said and smiled at Ghost as he sat his drink down next to mine and shuffled into the booth. I smiled at him as I sipped on my drink.

He had chosen raspberry gin,my favourite and I wondered how he knew. “What’d you choose raspberry for?” I asked him. “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout it.” He answered and I smiled at him,resting my head on his shoulder for a long moment.

Price had chosen to ignore mine and ghosts ‘closeness’ rather than reporting us.

“Thanks Si.” I said as he walked back into my bunk like every other night. “Welcome sweetheart.” He said and I smiled. “I’m gonna get changed is that alright?” I asked him as I looked into my wardrobe.

“Yeah sure-“ he said before I interrupted him to moan “I haven’t got a fucking hoodie~!” I sighed and grabbed a T-shirt instead throwing it onto my desk along with some joggers.

“‘ere ‘ave this.” He said taking off his hoodie and throwing it at me,I stared at his chest for a moment.

Each painful scar told a different story and I felt sorry for him,such a beautiful soul in such a painful body.

“Do you want a shirt? I’ve got lots of large ones from my Highschool boyfriend.” I said with a little laugh as I grabbed one.

“Had a shirt like this before.” He muttered and I nodded as he put it on. He lied down on my bed and patted his chest,something my boyfriend used to do.

I smiled and lied down on his chest as I snuggled up to him. “What do we need to do tomorrow?” I asked him as I lied in his chest. “Nothing,can go home tomorrow for a week.” He told me and I nodded.

“You stay here or do you have somewhere to go?” He asked and I shook my head mumbling a tired “Come home with me.” And he chuckled to himself “Okay sweets.”

I woke up and I was still snuggled into his chest,the covers and his arms draped over me. Ever since I began to cuddle with him I hadn’t had a nightmare and it was calming.

He sat up as he begun to wake up in sync with me, I sat up in his lap,I rested my hands on his chest and he rested his hands atop of my waist.

“Am I ever gonna see your face?” I asked with a small laugh, “Maybe one day.” He said and he lifted his mask half up and kissed my cheek.

“Why not this one?” I asked softly,not wanting to push him, “You’re not ready yet.” He whispered and pulled me back into his chest.

“Tell me more about that Simon guy,huh?” He asked and I began rambling. “I can’t wait to see him again,hopefully I will one day. I’m honestly thinking about finding him on Facebook.” I laughed and he stroked his hands through my hair. “Tell me more about your girl?” I asked and he nodded.

“She’s so sweet,I can’t wait till she sees me,one of the few people who have seen my face.” He laughed.

“I always imagined this white picket fence,brick house,two cats and a dog with him,I guess he didn’t want that but I’ll still always love him.” I rambled and he smiled with a small chuckle. “No im serious!” I giggled.

“I get that,never ‘magined it with anyone but ‘er.” He said with a small chuckle. “Why don’t you find her again?” I asked, “I will.” He said stroking his hands through my hair gently.

“How are you so sure? I’ve never been sure about anything except love.” I giggled and he smiled under his mask, “How are you sure about love?” He asked me. “I never said anything to him but my high school boyfriend,I loved him.” I told him honestly.

“I’m sure he loved you too.” He almost whispered. I giggled, “I don’t know,he was kinda like you,he wasn’t sure about most things.” I laughed.

“I know he loved you.” He told me as I giggled on top of his chest once again. “Maybe he did.” I replied as a whisper.

I snuggled back into his chest with a smile, “When do you think we should go to mine?” I asked him lazily and he rubbed his hands up my back, “Wanna stay like this for a bit.” He whispered.

“This is my place.” I said as I hopped out of the car with Simon in tow. “It reminds me of somewhere.” He muttered under his breath like I wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Make yourself at home.” I said as I dropped my bag at the front door and walked into the kitchen.

“What tea do you like?” I asked him from the kitchen as he looked around, “Whatever you’re making honey.” He said back and I nodded to myself.

I came back into the living room with the tea and handed him some as I sat down. I pulled a blanket over me and flicked on the tv as he settled his arm behind me.

I put on a tv show and snuggled into the side of Ghost,I had known him for a couple of months now and we were both fairly comfortable with each other.

He lowered his arm around my shoulder. “How come you’re comfortable with me? The guys said you’re never like that.” I asked him. He nodded and sipped on his tea before putting it on the coffee table.

“I feel like I know you,better than those guys.” He added and I nodded,it was already almost midnight and I yawned out as I rubbed my fists at my eyes.

“Do you wanna stay on the couch or do you wanna come upstairs?” I asked him “What are you comfortable with?” He asked and I giggled, “Come upstairs loser.” I said quietly.

He followed me upstairs and bought his bag with him. “I’m gonna get changed real quick.” I said and he nodded, “Same.” He muttered.

“Turn around and just get changed behind each other?” I asked and he nodded,I turned around looking through my wardrobe and grabbed a sports bra and joggers.

I turned around,forgetting that ghost was getting changed and was met with his bare back and thighs. I blushed and quickly turned around as I got changed.

I noticed how he was sat up in my bed,looking at me with the same eyes Simon had all those years ago.

I stepped over the blanket that lied on my floor and snuggled up to his chest,laying my legs over his thighs.

I woke up the next morning as I felt something prodding my thigh and groaned. I moved my thigh as I heard Simon mumble in his sleep.

It sounded like my name but I brushed it off and attempted to get comfortable once again. I moved my thigh up and down attempting to get away from whatever was prodding me and then it hit me.

He mumbled out my name again as I moved my thigh and I didn’t know what to do. I knew what was happening but I didn’t know what to do.

“Si.” I whispered and shook his shoulders slightly and he quickly awoke. He soon realised what had happened as I stared up at him. “M’ so sorry love.” He said as he moved me off of him. “It’s okay.” I whispered.

“Uhm do you want some help?” I barely whispered it out,not knowing if I was being too forward. “You sure sweetheart,don’t have to worry?” He asked me and I nodded.

I sat up on his lap and began to grind my hips down on him. He held onto my waist as I took down his sweatpants,I moaned out as i saw his cock,too big to fit in me not to mention the piercing on the end of his tip.

“Too big.” I mumbled out as I looked up at him,his eyes were soft and he flipped me underneath him. I felt tiny underneath him.

“ ‘ll make it fit.” He whispered and I nodded,he held my hands over my head and took down my sweatpants. He rubbed his finger over my clit and I moaned out,he seemed to know all my sweet spots and I had no clue how.

He lined a finger up to me and I whined out,his finger was almost as big as two of my own.

I whimpered out for him,repeating his name like a mantra, “S’ okay baby I know.”

“Faster Si,please?” I asked and he obliged. I moaned out,enough to most likely gain a noise complaint and wake the neighbours.

“C-close!” I almost yelled and he grunted out as he added an extra finger,I came undone on his fingers but he didn’t pull out.

“Si,please!” I yelled gently but he didn’t stop,he continued his fast pace,overstimulating me.

I came undone on his fingers again and whimpered out as he removed his fingers, “You ready darling?” He asked softly and my panting continued as I nodded, “Words sweetheart.” He whispered as he lined himself up.

“Yeah,please.” I whimpered and he nodded. He pushed himself in,inch by inch and I almost screamed.

I gently bit down on his forearm,the only place I could get to and he chuckled, “Go on princess,I know you can bite harder than that.” He said,giving me permission.

I nodded as much as I could and hit down on his forearm as I gripped the other.

He kept inching himself in for what felt like forever and I slowly bit down harder and harder until I eventually drew blood,I felt his piercing hit my cervix and I knew he was in.I took my mouth off of his arm,staring at the mark and the blood pooling around it.

“M’ sorry,m’ sorry.” I keep repeating lazily, “S’ okay love,calm down.” He whispered as he lifted his arm and put his hand under my chin making me look at him.

I look at him with teary eyes and he smiles at me from under his mask “Cock drunk slut,so pretty f’ me.” I whimpered out for him,not sure what I wanted.

“M’ sorry.” I whispered lazily as I stared at him with teary eyes, “I got scars everywhere love,that’ll be my favourite one.” He whispered as he lifted up his mask just above his nose to kiss me.

“Did I hurt you?” I asked him and he shook his head, “Can’t hurt me sweets.” He whispered with a small laugh, “What about the piercing?” I asked and he shook his head again, “Not really,just a sharp pain.” He said and I nodded.

“M’sorry.” I whispered again and he looked into my eyes, “What for lovie?” And I I stared up at him, “For rambling,it’s only when I’m nervous.” I whispered, “Nothing to be nervous about,I’ll go slow,promise.” He whispered to me.

I nodded my head and looked down where we conjoined.“You want more time to adjust or are you okay?” He asked me in his usual gruff voice, “I’m okay.” I whispered out,my voice far different from his.

He began slowly moving inside of me and I felt every inch moving with me. He slowly picked up his face,afraid to hurt me. I continued to emit small moans which slowly got louder as he held a hand on my stomach.

My hands were still held above me as I lulled my head back,my eyes following behind me to the back of my head. He sped up,keeping a consistent pace as he hit my bruised cervix.

I stared up into his eyes as I slowly lost my vision,my eyes clouding up with tears of pleasure. My moans got louder as he got faster and he lowered his face to mine.

“Cum for me,doll. Love your sweet moans,so pretty,all f’ me.” He whispered and I whimpered out as I felt myself squirt.

“M’ sorry,m’ sorry.” I continued to mumble as he kissed over my scarred face. He soon came after me and slowly pulled out of me. He placed his fingers between my legs before licking them with a small smile, “Pretty girl,delicious.” He whispered and walked out of the room.

“No,no,no.” I whispered as he treated to leave the room, “I’m going to get a rag,I’ll be back,I promise.” He said to me and I nodded as I blacked out.

I woke up with my sweatpants on and cuddled up to Simons chest whilst his hands rubbed circles on my back.I looked up at him as he looked down at me.

“Simon!” I yelled as I noticed him without his mask on,I jumped up in bed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I forgot how sore my legs are.” I laughed.

The same boy I had known since Highschool lied infront of me and I hadn’t known this whole time. “Hey sweets,still the same girl I knew all those years ago,huh?” He chuckled and I smiled at him as I kept my arms wrapped around him.

“You idiot! I lost contact with you ages ago!” I laughed as I kissed around his face,his beautiful smile still held the memories of our nights together from Highschool,his buzz cut still the same and I smiled as I realised all the signs I had missed.

“Still know my favourite gin,huh?” I laughed “Never forgot it.” He whispered,I snuggled into the crook of his neck, “You’re home.” I whispered “I’ve been at home since you came to the task force.” He told me in a whisper and I smiled.

“So what about that picket fence huh?” He chuckled, “I was serious!” I giggled as I smacked his chest, “So was I.” He muttered and I kissed his face once again.

“Missed you s’ much.” He whispered, “Bet I missed you more.” I laughed as he chuckled along with me. “You must have known who I was since I joined the task force,why didn’t you tell me?” I asked as I looked up at him from his chest.

“Didn’t know how you’d feel.�� He said honestly, “That’s why you asked me about you.” I said with a moment of realisation, “Yep.” He said with a chuckle.

“I love you,idiot.” I whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied.

[fairy-writes]

Hey can you write a super cute fluff ler!roland fortis x lee!reader where the reader is dating roland and the reader is super ticklish, especially on her thighs and roland tickles her to see her bright smile because it makes him happy plz?

PECULIAR

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): The Case Study of Vanitas

Pairing(s): Roland Fortis x Female!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Tickling, kisses, FLUFF

Notes: I’m going to be honest… I hate being tickled, so this was really difficult for me to enjoy writing. BUT I TRIED MY BEST

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Roland was a bit peculiar when it came to visiting him at his home.

His home was a bit peculiar in and of itself for someone like him. It was a little red brick cottage with a white picket fence and flowers he tended to religiously in his time off (when he wasn’t visiting you), with a little pond by the front gate. Whenever you spent the night, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, listening to the soft sounds of frogs chirping you to dreamland.

Back to peculiar. 

You fiddle with the key in your hand, juggling groceries in the other. 

“Damn key, just open!” You growl through gritted teeth, slowly losing your grip on the paper sack in the crook of your left arm. 

The door is flung open, and Roland leans in the doorway, a mischievous smile curling the corners of his lips. He was dressed casually in his button-down and slacks, his bare feet sinking into the plush rug at the entrance. 

“Need some help?” He asks, and you sigh, nodding reluctantly and handing the groceries over to your lover. He hefts them into his arms easily and steps aside to let you through. 

The inside is just as peculiar as the outside. With rosewood chairs topped with soft white pillows and matching couches in the front room, it was a stark contrast to what most people expected of Roland. 

It was probably because you had helped him decorate the interior of his home when he first purchased it. 

You toe off your shoes at the entrance and then make your way to the kitchen to put away the groceries. Roland follows like a puppy, with that same mischievous smile on his lips. 

The kitchen is just as bright as the rest of the house. The curtains in the adjoining dining room are open, letting in the natural sunlight and brightening up the picked flowers at the center of the table. 

Roland puts a hand on your waist and presses a light kiss to the side of your neck where it meets your shoulder. His hands trickle up and down your side, causing you to squirm as the ticklish touch itched you. 

“Stop. That tickles.” You mutter as you begin to put groceries away. Eggs go in the fridge. Flour in the cupboard. Sugar next to that. Ingredients for bread and cookies are safely stored away. 

All the while, Roland has attached himself to your side, shuffling after you adorably if not a bit awkwardly, given he was so much broader than you. 

“But I love tickling my dearest girl.” He whispers, and you shiver at the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. 

“Doesn’t mean I like it.” You grumble, and he chuckles, catching onto your little white lie.

“Of course you do. Don’t lie to me, love.”

After the groceries are put away, you and Roland are reading on the couch. A quilt is thrown over the two of you as you read quietly to your lover. He had his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as his green eyes scan the words on the page. 

He seems content.

Until…

You feel fingers tracing shapes on your hips, trickling up and down your thighs. You squirm, and your voice wavers. 

“Roland…” You say warningly, and he tightens his grip on your waist, his fingers disappearing from your hips. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” He says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. 

Your book is eventually abandoned when Roland’s hands begin to wander again, tickling your sides and thighs until you are giggling up a storm and drop the book to swat at his hands. You can’t even get the air to breathe to tell him to stop. 

He eventually does, with a kiss to your cheek and a tight squeeze of your back to his chest. 

Roland sure is peculiar. 

But you love him anyway. 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Gorgeous Craftsman bungalow- look at the details in the columns. This is called an Airplane style home, b/c the dormer on top looks like the cockpit. It was built in 1910 in Boise, Idaho, has 4bd., 2ba., $868K.

Beautiful porch with a swing and a view of the classic white picket fence. How homey is this?

This is so much better than yesterday’s Craftsman where the wood was completely painted gray. I don’t even mind that the brick on the fireplace is painted.

You can tell that they redid the wood, stripping it and refreshing the finish.

Lovely family room off the living room. 

Beautiful built-in hutch in the dining room. 

I don’t mind the kitchen remodel- Shaker cabinets are timeless and I like the color. 

Here’s something you don’t see often, the main bd. has a built-in headboard w/lamps and nightstands. 

There’s a nice closet in the attic.

Remodeled shower room. I still like subway tile.

Nice secondary bd. 

Very nice- beadboard wainscoting and classic tile.

Wow, pocket doors and a spacious secondary bd.

Here we are in the “cockpit.” Isn’t this a cool space?

The stone foundation makes a perfect wine cellar.

The yard is beautifully designed and landscaped.

Cute little country garage.

Idyllic neighborhood.

And, even a hiking trail for the new buyer and dog.

https://tours.tourfactory.com/tours/tour.asp

[dyrewrites]

New chapters up on cohost

Chapter Seventeen and Eighteen added to the thing.

Excerpts, just because;

From Chapter Seventeen (Vengeance, mon amour)

That sun was bruised and fading when at last we reached a tucked away clearing...and a house. It was not what I expected. To be fair, however, I didn't know what to expect. Two stories of whitewashed bricks and gleaming windows stared at us, all of it pristine in every manner. From the meticulously tended rose bushes out front—rich and red—to the picket fence surrounding it. Not a blade of grass was out of place, not a speck of dirt muddied all that white. Even the door, tall and wide, was whiter than a nobleman's teeth. That house reeked of perfection, of rigidity, of obedience. And I shuddered at the threshold.

From Chapter Eighteen (Celebration in Red)

He left me after, in that strange room that had grown so familiar over the months I spent in it. A room that felt, in that moment, more like home than the one I grew up in. No judgment existed in that room, or on that ship, no one to shout at me for what I watched, what I sketched, what I wanted—who, it was always who. I was free there, accepted there, loved there...and I would do all I could to remain there. To hold on to what I’d fallen into, who I’d fallen into…

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[quicktimeeventfull]

Animal Games A Lawlight Gone Girl AU (Part Two) Part One 7.4k words Read on AO3 L has moved his lovely, vile, and entirely batshit husband out of their beautiful Brooklyn brownstone into a Missouri suburb, then left him to his own devices. He is under the impression that this is going to end well. In this part: Light gets to say his piece. Content notes: Deals substantially with concerning age dynamics, as well as racism and homophobia; a few slurs are present. Light is as vile as ever. Past childhood abuse is discussed. Suicide is repeatedly invoked, albeit in a way that parallels Gone Girl. There's some arguably disordered eating. Thank you so much to @lightyaoigami for doing so much research and holding hands in worldbuilding and character creation! Everything about New York comes from Monica, and so do all the designer clothes, L's midlife crisis car, and a great deal of the characterization. Monica did so much that it's honestly kind of hard to describe all of it; imo all the best parts of this fic come from her.

I gave him a chance to save himself. You understand this.

I know he's going to make himself out to be the fucking victim in all of this because he always has to be the victim. Oh, poor me, I grew up in foster care and I never got the stable, white-picket-fence life that no one else has in the first place -- come the fuck on. What does that have to do with anything?

I had a perfectly nice life in Brooklyn. I had friends. Friends don't come easily to me, I'll admit that, but I made them anyway. I had a beautiful little apartment in Cobble Hill with real brick walls and portes-fenêtres that opened onto a wrought-iron Juliette balcony and a coffee shop a three minute walk away where I could drink real espresso and eat honey-lemon cornmeal cake and do the work he thinks is so pathetically beneath me which by the way, it isn't. I liked it. It was my job. He worked for a fucking fashion magazine, for god's sake. He wrote about pants and peplums. It wasn't exactly hard-hitting news.

It isn't as if I didn't earn any of what I had because I grew up in a two-story.

Why should I have to throw all of that out because he thought it might be nice to have a lawn when he was seven years old? [continue]