#taffy the golden retriever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

HEATED

≛ modern!eddie x female reader x modern! steve

≛ summary: a week after being stranded on the side of the road with eddie and steve, you finally figure out what you’re going to do. Can the boys agree to what you have planned?

≛ THIS CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE FIC

≛ chapter warnings: MODERN AU, 18+ only I can’t be anymore clear about that, fuckgirl! reader vibes, Steve’s kind of a dickhead, oral m & f receiving and giving, mentions of birth control, reader gets eaten out by a girl, drug use, mention of alcohol, modern themes including texting, snapchat, iced coffee, crumbl cookie lmao etc, no y/n used, readers nickname is taff or taffy (bruh I hate using y/n catch me using any dumb nickname) Eddie picks reader up in a hug, real simpy Eddie behavior.

“I just don’t know Robin,” you explain, pulling literally at your hair from the root, “what should I do?”

Ever since that day in the back of Wayne’s truck, you hadn’t had a single night of peace. Both Eddie and Steve were blowing up your phone. Begging for your attention. It was flattering at first. Two of Hawkins hottest at your beck and call. Each vying for your undivided, not knowing that they were competing for it.

“Quit squirming,” Robin says in a huff between your legs, her mouth blossomed red and slick with spit, “I’ve been down here for thirty minutes and you aren’t any closer to coming than when I started.”

Her apartment was hot and sticky, the oscillating fan on its last leg, and you were both stripped down to nothing to keep cool on your planned girls day in. A day to forget about the boys stressing you out and for Robin to get away from her annoying ex. And just like how it usually happened with her, you ended up snorting lines and making eachother buzz with orgasms.

“Ugh, sorry,” you say annoyed, leaning up on your elbows to see her pretty face, “I just can’t relax.”

“Tell me about it,” she says around your puffy clit, the tip of her tongue flicking it like a snake.

You had made the boys swear to secrecy that they wouldn’t tell a soul about what had happened. But you didn’t promise anything.

And the moment you had gotten home, you sent a text to Robin explaining every single detail, down to girth and length.

“I think, you should date them both, try em out, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, now please shut up, you’re taking forever and I’m bored.”

The next morning you woke with a smile on your lips. Any turmoil left in your mind on your decision had gone with Robin’s idea.

The alarm clock on your bedside table illuminated 9:15AM and before even slipping your toes into some slippers, you sent two text messages to two recipients.

The normal routine of your morning commenced without fail, washing your face, scrubbing your body in the shower, putting on light makeup before making a pot of coffee.

Eddie arrived first, his motorcycle echoed loud off the parking lot as he backed it into a spot against the sidewalk. His dark curls were honeyed by the sun, a bag of Chinese takeout in one arm and a dozen roses in another. The prettiest dimples displayed on his stupid gorgeous face.

“Hey beautiful,” he smirked, wrapping you in a hug and kissing your cheek. He smelled like muted cigarettes and bourbon cologne. The creak of his leather jacket echoed in your ears as he lifted you off the ground into a bone crushing hug, making you squeal.

“Sleep well?”

Before you could answer his smile had faded into a scowl when the door swung open and Steve stood at the threshold. Wielding a pink box of gourmet cookies and two iced coffees, his wire framed Ray Bans pushed into his hair.

“Munson,” he greeted, nodding to his friend in that jock head jerk. Stepping around him, Steve sets the coffees on the counter and gathers you into a hug, kissing your neck and whispering that he had missed you.

His golden retriever vibe of tanned skin and forest colored eyes bore through you when he licked his lips.

You pull away and smile at them. They both look so good but in completely different ways.

Eddie’s tattoos were peeking out from under the tight white shirt he was wearing, as was a silver chain necklace.

You were practically drooling to get your lips on his skin again.

Steve was in light colored shorts and a casual button up, exposing the dusting of chest hair that your fingers ached to be wrapped in. If you had your way you’d take them both right here right now but that’s not what today was about.

“Why are we both here, baby?” Eddie asks, setting the bouquet and the Chinese food on the counter, pushing away the pink box of treats from his competitor.

“It’s obvious.” Steve says with a smirk pulling on his lips, “she’s gonna let you down easy and go out with me.”

“Always so cocky,” you tsk, trying not to look at the way his shorts are cinched at the zipper.

You look between them, big doe whiskey colored eyes stare at you in longing, while the mossy floor ones squinted with a smirk.

“We need to talk, and rather me having this conversation twice- I figured we are grown ass adults and can talk about what happened.”

Eddie nods and crosses his arms, leaning forward to not miss anything you were about to say. Meanwhile Steve leaned a hip into the wall, checking his phone.

“Before I stroke your egos, you both know you’re hot, so I’m not going to tell you how fucking great that day was.”

“fuck yeah it was,” Steve chimed in, adjusting his length in his shorts.

Eddie blushed a pretty salmon and shot you a wink.

“But— I’m not choosing between the two of you, I can’t, ask Robin, I about gave her a brain aneurysm yesterday trying to figure it out.”

You were the one on the verge of an aneurysm when you came allover her lips but that’s another story.

“So, we’re gonna do this with no strings, no feelings, just friends hooking up and playing around. Cool?”

Eddie’s eyes fall to the tops of his boots.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve gaped, eyebrows pulled in, “you’re going to go out with the two of us... at the same time?”

“Yeah, kinda what you do with every hussy in town Harrington.”

Steve’s gears are grinding but Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“What the fuck Taff?” Steve huffs in annoyance.

you banter back talking to him like he’s a child, “what’s the matter Harrington, don’t like sharing?”

“Rich boys are used to having their way.” Eddie gloats.

“Oh fuck off,” he pours, “what about sex? Or is this like a PG thing, eating pizza at Chucke fuckin’ Cheese?”

You cross your arms, and lick your lips, “oh we’ll be fucking, but not until you’re clean, both of you.”

Eddie’s eyes finally perk up, he hasn’t been with anyone since last year and he was checked three months ago.

“Oh come on!” Steve whines, “MaKenna is a virgin, and Blair and Nicole have only blown Tommy since being with me— no need to fuck anyone else catch my drift?”

“Sorry Harrington, I’m not risking catching anything and giving it to Eddie because you fundipped your way across campus. Show me you’re clean and it’s game on.”

He pouts, “Jesus Christ… I’ll even wear a condom, c’mon.. I swear I’m clean.”

“What the fuck is this 1990? I have an IUD, just get clean and we can do whatever you want.”

Eddie feels like he has the upper hand for the first time since arriving at your apartment, “W-when does this start, sweetheart?”

“Right now,” you shrug, “ I know you had to take off work today so I’m yours, see ya tomorrow Stevie.”

“Such bullshit.”

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll take care of her while you’re off swabbing your pee hole,” Eddie says with a wave to his friend, cockiness in his stance.

“Be nice, boys.”

You don’t expect what happens next but Steve grabbed your wrist and twisted you into him, kissing you square on the mouth just as firm as he did in the bed of Wayne’s truck. Rough and giving no grace he leaves you spinning even after he’s left.

“Text me if you get bored with this one,” he says, licking his bottom lip to get one more taste of you as he walks through the door, “bye.”

You cross the kitchen to the counter, lips still buzzing from Steve’s kiss. You pull out two forks from the proper drawer and rip some paper towels from the roll.

Pulling out the white cardboard containers of Chinese food from the plastic sack, you plate them with shaky fingers. The fork in your hand slipping every once in a while and clanging loudly into the ceramic plate.

“Hungry?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Starving actually,” Eddie says, “but there’s something I wanna do first.”

You tear open a foil packet of soy sauce between your teeth and squeeze it all over the fried rice, “yeah, and what’s that?”

Not noticing how close he was to you, his hands rest hotly on either of your hips, fingernails grazing the cotton of your shorts.

In a quick spin, you’re suddenly facing him, fork in one hand, soy sauce packet in the other. His eyes are impossibly dark, and a twist of a smirk lays on his pretty lips.

“I wanna kiss you.”

His lips ghost over yours and your tongue reaches for his lips but is met by nothing.

His breath fans across your lips, the sweetest of pouts escapes you, and his adam's apple bobs in his throat, swallowing your annoyance, “not here.”

His fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, cold steel of his rings icing into your skin, dipping into it with a tentative touch.

The zipper of his leather jacket bites into your palms as you pull him closer into you, and just like that day on the side of the road, it felt easy with Eddie.

You share the same bated breath as his fingers plunge deeper and push your underwear out of the way. Between your slick folds he teases at your clit with his middle finger, swallowing the pretty noise you emit.

“Wanna kiss you here,” he said with a thick fingered flick against your clit making you moan through your teeth but lips, “need to taste you, again.”

You moan his name and he helps you wiggle out of your shorts in a hurry. Feeling like you’re possessed at the sight of him dropping to his knees on the cold linoleum of your kitchen floor, like a sinner praying for mercy in a cathedral—you’re practically begging for his tongue where you need it most.

Two weeks ago you and Eddie were just friends, and now he’s pulling the prettiest noises from you that would make the angels sick with worry,

His lips kiss your thighs feverishly in his travels. Dark curls tickling against the spit from his sloppy mouth. Every sensation in your body was screaming, and you cursed out loud when he hooked your leg over his shoulder like a guitar strap.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pushed this tongue into your slick, flicking against the hood of your clit, “so fuckin pretty baby, been seeing her in my dream for a week.”

Nerves wrecked already you’re practically a puddle at his simping words, trying like hell to balance on one foot and carving your nails into the underside of the counter. But Eddie’s face could have held you up alone.

He’s buried in your pussy. The happiest of graves. Nose, mouth chin- gone. All you can see of him down the plain of your own body are his curls. But you can feel him everywhere.

Devil's tongue stuffed between your legs, thrashing and lapping up like a mad man starved. His groans vibrate around you and your legs quake. His fingers are pushed deep in the well of your velvet walls, another circling your ass and putting the tiniest bit of pressure there making you cry out.

His name falls from your lips like a chant, faster and faster until your orgasm peaks and blinds you, your body losing all control from his tongue, your knuckles go white when you grab his hair, holding him right where you need him.

“Fuck,” he groans, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit once more before he adjusts your panties back into place. Your fingers ache from the grip you had on the counter and in his locks.

Kissing the delicate fabric around the apex of your thighs, he whispers softly, “I could do that everyday.”

He helps you step back into your shorts, that glorious tongue poking out in concentration, and he looks up at you with a shy smile, standing and holding your hands.

“With a tongue like that, I might let you.”

“Don’t tease me Taffy, I’m still hard.”

And now it was your turn to be needy. You pull the lapels of his leather jacket into you and you kiss his slick coated lips, he tastes like you and the salty soy sauce that was still on your lip.

Kissing Eddie was different than Steve, he painted your mouth the same way he lapped at your folds. If you never caught your breath— that would be fine with you. Your head spun around his web and you were tangled in it.

His hands wrap around your back and one holds your face. It was deeply passionate, and your heart was bursting, your lips move to his neck and you suck and bite a mark into him, and he whimpers when your kisses go small.

“This is gonna get cold Eddie,” you say against the column of his throat.

“Let it, I’ll buy more.”

You grin into his skin and he laughs when you tickle his sides, “c’mon,” you urge.

And Eddie gets in one last kiss before breaking away, pulling your lip down with his thumb, and you shudder at the way he looks at you as if you’re the only girl on the planet, “if you say so.”

The Chinese needed to be s microwaved but it was still good., The hunan pork was tender and juicy, and the lo mein noodles were to die for. You and Eddie sat side by side on the barstools and talked like you always had. He had a gig this weekend and when he asked if you were coming you said of course you were, a quirk to your brow.

“Alright,” he said, putting alot of effort and concentration into twirling a noodle with his fork, “just wasn’t sure.”

You leaned forward and kissed sauce from the corner of his mouth, and your core ached and pulsed at the sight of his boyish grin and blushing cheeks.

“Wouldn’t miss it, even if it is Steve’s night.”

He accepted a bite from your fork of fried rice, and almost melted when you held pinched fingers up to his mouth of a ripped piece of crab rangoon.

“We’re still cool, right?” he asks after crushing the bite between his teeth, his eyes watching you put your fingers in your mouth and nodding.

“So c-can I ask you something as a friend?”

His brows are pinched in a furrow and you know he’s uneasy about something.

You slurp a noodle into your mouth and talk with a mouthful, a hand in front of your face, “spit it out, Munson.”

His fork clanks on the plate as he sets it down and gives the plate away. He runs a hand through his hair, and leans on his elbows and picks at his rings.

“So, why— I mean, why the both of us. You and Harrington can’t even stand each other.”

He was right, before last week you and Steve could barely be in the same room together, and now you were agreeing to fuck with no strings attached.

“It’s physical with Steve, like pure animalistic instinct. There’s no thoughts, and I think us hating each other just makes it that much better.”

Eddie’s weight shifts on the stool and his eyes never leave his rings, spinning them in a nervous habit.

“So you don’t like him like that?”

And the truth of his question falls through but you refuse to answer it, you have your own questions to ask, you toss the paper napkin onto your plate and mimic his actions, pushing it ahead on the counter.

“Eddie.. are you jealous?”

You leaned into him, the pads of your fingers daintily walking up his thigh, your eyes blink slow in a lazy seduction and fuck he’s practically putty in your hands.

He licks his lips feverishly, suddenly hot around the collar and his heart hammered a rhythm loud enough to make a tune out of it.

“N-no,” pppft he stammers, “I’m not jealous,” he tries his best not to catch your eye but once he does those hersheys bars give him away and a bubble gum blush tickles his cheeks. He clears his throat with an ahem, and raps his knuckles on the counter.

You stand and wiggle between his legs, pressing one hand further into his crotch and the other on his chest, toying with his necklace, your finger skating the pick left and right the chain making a zippered like noise.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Eddie is floored, wilting like a flower— all the oxygen and water ran out from the √≈petals. His mouth was almost glued shut, it’s so dry, Sahara would be jealous.

Your lips pucker behind his ear and the filth you’re whispering to him sends shivers down his spine. It’s lust licked and heavy, want me to touch you, or do you wanna touch me?

He answers with a dry groan and a swallow, and his hands find your hips spinning you around,his lips ghost over your neck and you throw your head back into him, pushing your ass into him to feel the swell of his bulge in his jeans.

He’s rutting into your doughy ass, his fat cock loving the friction you’re bouncing against him, you move your hips and grind further into him.

“Fuck baby,” he moans hot against the shell of your ear, catching in his throat.

His hands creep under the hem of your shirt and skate against your skin, the smooth of his nails electrifying each touch. They work along your curves, his big thick hands touching every inch of your skin, rubbing along the lacy edge of your maroon bralette.

The pads of his thumbs graze against your peaked nipples and you exhale. You're surrounded by the sharp spice of his cologne, the muted cigarettes clinging to his jacket, it encompassed you, held you like a hug and had your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

It felt too good. His lips hummed against your neck, vibrating hot and sending goosebumps along your skin, and you wanted more. Needed more.

You followed his hands, tracing the veins on the tops of them with your fingers, pushing your palm flat against them, making him squeeze at your tits, and you purred out his name, a shade away from whining.

Fuck you wanted him so bad. And judging by the firmness of his cock beneath your asscheeks, he wanted you just as badly.

You spun quickly, grabbing his hands and leading him to the couch, his lips were red from sucking on your neck, bangs were pushed up awkwardly from the position his head was buried into your shoulder. He looked drunk, enamored with something you didn’t recognize.

The leather of his belt was heavy in your fingers as you unraveled it through the buckle and the first loop on his jeans. His eyes never left yours as your fingers flipped the button and pushed his jeans down his hips.

He shuddered a breath when your hand cupped him in his boxers, the velvet of his skin soft and warm in your soft grip. He was bigger than you remembered, thick like a stout of beer.

“Christ Taff,” he breathed when you stroked him fully, the pad of your finger running over the vein that ran along his cock.

You looked at him through your lashes as you lowered yourself to the ground, dragging his jeans and boxers with you, “this what you wanted big boy? Wanted me on my knees for you?”

He hums and holds your chin, brushing his thumb across your lips.

Licking the tip of his thumb, you hold his heavy cock in your hands, stroking his shaft slow then fast, “you’re so big, Eddie.”

He swallows his next words when your tongue circles his head, collecting the precum with each devilish swipe. You stick out your tongue to show him the pearl in your mouth, and he almost combusts when you swallow it with a hum.

“Yummy.”

He’s certain he’s going to die right here in your living room, looking at you with your pink tongue swirling around his cock, the way your lips suction around him, fuck, you haven’t even put him fully in your mouth yet and he’s a goddamn mess.

The teasing is too much but he’ll take whatever you give him, if you were to stop now he’d be completely satisfied, he’d have to pump his cock furiously when he got home to make the ache go away but, he’d do it.

But you don’t stop, fuck no. You’re just getting started. You like him like this, flushed in his cheeks and waiting patiently for your mouth. His mouth opening as yours does. Waiting, pleading, hoping that you would finally let your wet warmth surround him.

And then you do.

He stretched your mouth cheek to cheek, a literal mouthful. And he hums. Is he thanking God? You hide your giggle, deciding to take him further into your throat as you hollow your cheeks and slide him deeper with the help of his canting hips.

You hum around him and it tickles him, but he’s so drunk on your mouth he’s muttering sentences that don’t even make sense.

Pumping your hands along his shaft you dribble spit from your throat to the head of his dick, a slimy string connecting you mouth, one that you slurp back up and take him in deeper. His knees are bent and he pulled his shirt under his chin, wanting to see you fully with his cock stuffed in your mouth, your pretty eyes are teary and he can feel you gag around him before he pulls out and you come back for more.

He’s not sure how long you’ve been at this, and he’s trying to keep his mind averted to anything other than your slippery throat and the cute way your eyes are looking up at him.

This was better than the way you sucked him off in the bed of Wayne’s truck. You were solely focused on him here. No other distractions, just you and him.

“Look so fucking pretty, baby,” he moaned, reaching down to hold your cheek, his thumb wipes away some of your smudged make up from your eye, “ do you know that?”

You nod with him in your throat, and he breathes more nonsense as he looks to the ceiling and runs his fingers through his hair, trying not to convulse, but he can’t take it any more, you're working his dick like you’re short on rent.

“Fuck, sweet girl, fuck,” Eddie whines, scrubbing his hands down his face, his stomach burning to give in to you, I— shit shit shit, ‘m gonna come.”

He works his hips away from you but you wrap your arms around the back of his knees, holding him with his dick still in your mouth, waiting like a kitten for milk.

He cums hard, biting through his bottom lip to keep himself from yelling out loud. You don’t stop bobbing your throat, swirling your tongue, around his length and puckering your lips around him.

With his load in your mouth you paint his cock with it, moving it around and around with your excess spit, a hurricane against your tornado tongue, you finally swallow, sucking in your cheeks once more, and cleaning Eddie off in one swoop. His cries fill the room and you finally release him with a pop.

“Jesus, fuck.” He exhales, sleepy eyed. His reddened swollen cock hanging between you both, “c’mere.”

He helps you to your feet, and you tuck him back into his boxers gently. He mutters an embarrassed thanks, you’re smiling up at him with a cocky little smirk. Completely ready for him to pull up his jeans, maybe get himself a beer from your fridge, but he doesn’t.

Eddie holds you to him, his forehead leaning on yours, big hands wrapped around the small of your back. His erratic breath plumed through his nose and his chest was beating fast. You’ve never seen him like this, “Eddie?”

He doesn’t let go, doesn’t say anything, he just moves back to press the lightest of kisses to the tip of your nose. “You, “ he finally says, licking his lips and rolling his eyes into the back of his head, finally focusing back on you, he pulls you closer, enough that his eyes are all you can see.

But whatever he was going to say is stuck in his throat, he never finishes what he was going to say. Just pulls you into him and holds you there, his lips on your neck, kissing you softly. It was a perfect day. You should have known it wouldn’t have been weird between you and Eddie, falling back into sync as best friends and laughing while snacking on m&m’s and smoking from his dab pen.

You end up falling asleep on your bed together, tired from exerting so much energy and bellies full of Chinese. Netflix asks, are you still watching YOU? on the tv on your dresser. Eddie’s tossing and turning wakes you and you grab your phone to check the time. 5 o’clock. Taking an almost four hour nap, but in reality it felt like four days straight.

But that's not the only surprising thing on your phone.

A litter of texts. From the same occupant. The other half of this agreement.

hope you enjoyed, seems like Steve isn’t too thrilled right?

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@tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @sweetsweetjellybean @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine

#Steve x you #eddie x you smut #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #Steve x you x Eddie #Eddie x you x Steve #fuckgirl! reader

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harry-on-broadway · 29 days ago

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Santa's Helpers: An Ever Since New York Extra

A/N: It's been like two years since I've written anything but I've been thinking of these two a lot lately. Please be nice and enjoy this unedited, very fluffy ficlet!

Sometime in the future…

Greta rolled her neck as the Q train approached the 86th Street station. She gathered her tote from the seat beside her double checking to make sure that none of the last-minute gifts she’d purchased between shows had spilled out. The doors opened and she stepped onto the platform, side-stepping some tinsel and less festive litter as she made her way to the exit.

The chill of the December air hit her with its full force and she braced against the wind and she climbed the stairs to street level. Just a few blocks and she’d be home, cozy in her pajamas with a warm mug of tea. She pulled her scarf further up her face and set out.

“Evening, Jim,” she said to the doorman on duty as went to scan her card.

“Evening, Greta,” he replied. “Got your hands full there.” He buzzed her in and Greta nodded her thanks.

“Had to get some final presents after the matinee today,” she said with a laugh. “I severely underestimated how crazy the stores would be the day before Christmas. So I guess I deserved the chaos?”

“I’ve been there before,” Jim chuckled. “Do you have a show tomorrow?” Jim asked.

“Thankfully, no.” Greta said. “Two shows on Christmas Eve is tough, but getting tomorrow off makes up for it.”

“Melissa and I still need to get down there to see you,” he said wistfully. “Into the Woods is one of her favorites.”

“Well, we’ll be there for a while…hopefully,” Greta added as an afterthought. “Let me know what night works for you and I’ll make sure there’s a pair for you all at will call.

“You don’t,” Jim tried to protest.

“Nope. It’s the least I can do, Jim. You take such good care of us, you deserve it.”

“Well thank you, Greta. We really appreciate it. I’ll check with her schedule and let you know. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” Greta called over her shoulder as she stepped into the elevator.

When it stopped at her floor, she rummaged through her purse, digging for her keys, and when she reached the door she unlocked it and eased it open. After quietly closing it, she set her bags down and toed her flats off, as the gentle sound of nails on hardwood echoed through the entryway.

“Hi Taffy girl,” she whispered as the Golden Retriever trotted towards her. “Did you have a busy day?” The dog just nudged her hand, seeking pets, which Greta obliged.

“Harry?” she whispered, as she walked to the living room, dragging the tote full of presents behind her.

“In here!” he whispered in return.

What Greta saw before her, brought a smile to her face and warmed her heart. Her husband was seated on the floor, looking positively cozy in his sweats and hoodie, surrounded by toys and various accoutrements of gift-wrapping. In front of him were what she conservatively estimated at about 120 pieces of wood and plastic that would eventually be assembled into a play kitchen.

“Did you get it?” he asked.

Greta reached into the bag. “You requested a pack of pretend food?”

“Oh, honey I love you so much,” he sighed, relief rippling through him. “I never thought I’d be stressed about plastic food for a fake kitchen.”

“And then we had kids…”

“And then we had kids…” he echoed. “I hope it wasn’t too bad?” he asked.

“I mean…I do think Times Square Target on Christmas Eve is the tenth circle of hell, but I’d do anything for those little nuggets so it’s fine.”

Their daughter loved watching the two of them cook and “helping” to pour things into various bowls and cups, and her little brother was starting to get the bug as well, so when Harry suggested a play kitchen as a Christmas gift, Greta was immediately on board. While the playset had been surprisingly easy to obtain, plastic food proved to be much harder, resulting in the last minute shopping trip to ensure the two kids sleeping peacefully upstairs had a perfect Christmas morning.

“I was going to make some tea, but then I can start wrapping? Or assembling? Do you want a cup?”

“That would be great, baby,” Harry said. “There’s cookies on the table too if you want a snack.”

Greta headed to the kitchen, grabbing mugs and tea bags while the electric kettle began to boil. She smiled when she saw the cookies, covered in way too much sugar and icing, imagining Harry gently reminding their kids that the cookies just needed a tiny bit of decoration. She put some onto a plate and brought the treats and beverages back into the chaos of the living room.

“Thanks, love,” Harry said, focused on the instructions in front of him, as Greta sat the mug on the coffee table behind them.

“What made you decide to tackle this tonight?” she asked, warming her hands on the mug.

“Well, the real answer is that I thought it would make them happy to tear off the paper and see it built rather than sitting in the box. But selfishly, I figured it would be easier for me to put it together without them hanging off of me. Might have misjudged that though,” he muttered as he frowned at the instructions.

“If you’ve got that covered, I can get started on the other gifts if that works?” Harry nodded in agreement and Greta reached across the floor to grab various books, dolls, and other toys, along with some wrapping paper and bows. “I grabbed a couple other things when I was out this afternoon.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmhmm. Nothing big…a couple of books. Some fancy glitter crayons that are supposedly washable.”

“They’ll certainly put that to the test.”

“You can say that again,” Greta chuckled. “I found a couple of Jellycats as well.”

Harry turned to shoot her a look. “I thought we had a ban on more Jellycats entering this house," he teased.

Greta had in fact said those exact words a few months prior after more stuffed toys had been gifted to the kids by their very doting grandparents. “It’s Christmas. I’m showing leniency.”

Harry let out the loudest laugh he dared before turning his attention back to the construction project in front of him. The two worked in companionable quiet, the only noises the sliding of Greta’s scissors on the wrapping paper, the gentle taps of the mallet against wood, and occasional slurps of tea.

“Remember when Christmas used to involve fun for us?” Harry asked. “Before we became Santa’s helpers? No putting together toys using instructions written in French. No wrapping. I could throw something in a gift bag, toss some tissue paper on top, and call it a day. Focus my attention on unwrapping you. Although I was hoping I’d get to do that again this year.” He snuck a glance at Greta out of the corner of his eye.

It was Greta’s turn to let out a laugh. “Are you seriously trying to come onto me right now?”

“Is it working?”

“It would if I wasn’t so tired.”

“Yeah, I’m talking a big game right now, but it will be a miracle if I stay awake long enough to get this built.”

Greta reached out to rub his back, and Harry leaned into her touch as she kneaded at a particularly tight knot. “How bad was it today?” Greta asked, bracing for the worst.

When their daughter had been born, both Harry and Greta decided that they would take a break from work to fully focus on their newborn. The break was intended to last a couple of months, and then one of them would return to work and they’d figure out an alternating schedule to ensure one of them would always be home with the kids.

However, a couple of months turned into a year, which turned into two, and then their son joined the crew and the process had started all over again. Greta hadn’t been sure how she’d adapt to motherhood, juggling it with her career. She’d always had faith in Harry but felt less confident in herself. But from day one, their little family had been everything she’d ever hoped for. They were raising two city kids, who coasted down the block on their scooters, knew which bodegas had the friendliest cats, and were already infinitely cooler than either of their parents.

As perfect as their family life was though, she still found herself longing to work again and create something away from home. And when she whispered that desire to Harry one night, he’d been nothing but encouraging, pushing her to do what made her happy.

“Does that make me a bad mom though? Wanting to leave my kids and do something else?” she said so quietly she wasn’t sure Harry heard her.

“No,” Harry had assured her. “You’ll be setting a great example for them, showing them that being a parent doesn’t mean giving up on your dreams.”

A couple of months later, Greta had booked her first Broadway show in years and Harry fully embraced his role as a stay-at-home dad. And while doing eight shows a week while raising two kids under six was a task not for the faint of heart, she felt more fulfilled than she ever had before. That fulfillment wasn’ entirely guilt free though, and every time she kissed her kids and husband goodbye and headed to the theater, she felt a twinge of guilt and prayed she wouldn’t miss any big moments in the hours she was gone.

“Not too bad,” Harry said slowly, bringing Greta back to the present. “We did a snack instead of lunch since we did brunch with you – that was the toughest part since neither was in the mood to eat and they fought me the entire time.” He exhaled and shook his head. “They are your kids is all I can say.”

Greta scoffed and swatted Harry with the empty wrapping paper roll. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They are articulate and emotive and have no problem telling me how they feel in a way that makes me think I’m the least intelligent person in this family.”

“Oh my God, what did they say this time?”

Harry smiled. “After much whispering amongst themselves, they informed me that their ‘characters’ wouldn’t eat carrots, so they would be abstaining today.”

“They seriously said ‘abstaining?’”

“Yes, my love, your daughter did.”

“Where’d she learn that?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Harry replied with a laugh. “But yeah, after the carrot incident, we went to the park so they could burn off some energy. We came home, made those cookies, had some dinner, ended the night with some coloring. They wanted to give Santa some pictures to go with his cookies, And then we read a book and they went to bed.”

“They drew pictures?” Greta tried to hide the wistfulness in her voice.

“Yep,” Harry nodded. “They’re on the table. They made a couple for you too.”

Greta got to her knees, and reached over the coffee table to grab the loose papers that were sitting next to Santa’s untouched plate of cookies. The drawing on top was mostly scribbles in varying hues of red and green, clearly an original piece by their son who was still grasping the concepts of drawing shapes. The second drawing, likely done by their daughter, were a bit easier to decode and featured four figures – presumably their family – waiting by the front door, while Santa and nine brown blobs – likely reindeer – waited on the other side. And the third…

“Harry, did you draw Bluey in a Santa hat?”

“Uh, yes, that was a request from both of them,” he said as he screwed on a door to the front of the playset. “Bluey was our background noise while we drew.”

Greta gazed at the drawings once more, biting her lip and trying not to cry.

“You OK, love?” Harry asked, glancing over at her. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“I just…” Greta sniffed. “I don’t regret going back to work, but sometimes I feel sad. And guilty. I’m missing things. I was gone all of Christmas Eve. And like when they were babies it was nice and everything but they’re never going to remember that. They didn’t know what Christmas was! But now they do and they’re going to remember that I wasn’t here.” She sighed. “I just feel so…awful.”

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t say this but I let them eat way too much sugar today so they likely won’t remember much. Like they crashed hard.”

“Harry!”

He tried to suppress his smile. “I’m kidding, love.” He put down the comically small screwdriver he’d been using and scooted closer to her, taking her hand in his. “Greta,” he said looking into her eyes. She knew he was serious given the lack of pet name. “You’re not awful. You’re an amazing mother. Of course they miss you when you’re not here, but those aren’t the memories they have. They don’t sit here saying ‘Remember when Mumma missed snack time?’ They talk about all of the memories they have with you. ‘This is the book Mumma read to us last week!’ or ‘We need to tell Mumma about the dog we pet!’ They love you and they sure as hell don’t think you abandoned them.”

“But I still feel guilty…” The tears she had been holding back started to fall.

“And I will too whenever I decide to start working again. It’s a fact of life. But you’re you. You always show up for the ones you love. You’re here when it matters most. And you’re going to be here tomorrow, right?” Greta nodded. “Yeah, you are,” Harry continued. “You’re going to watch our kids open way too many presents because we spoil them rotten and you’re going to try and fail to get them to clean up the wrapping paper before Taffy eats it.” The Golden’s tail thumped at the mention of her name. “We’re going to eat too many sweets and then the four of us are going to curl up and watch movies until we fall asleep and that’s what they’re going to remember.”

Greta sniffed. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but thank you, Harry. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Greta.” He leaned over to give a quick, but loving peck on the lips. “Now help me get these doors on.”

Greta laughed and wiped her eyes, before crawling over to hold the doors and other pieces while Harry screwed them on. When he finished, he applied the decals to the pieces, and stocked the cabinets with the fake food, while Greta finished wrapping the remaining gifts and arranged them under the tree. They tag-teamed wrapping the large piece of furniture, knowing their kids wouldn’t look at the wrap job twice before ripping it open, but as Harry so eloquently put it, the present looked like it had been wrapped by an elf that had failed out of the North Pole.

“All done?” Greta asked, as she put the scissors and tape back in the kitchen, and hid the wrapping paper scraps in the bottom of the recycling bin.

“Just about,” Harry said around a mouthful of cookie he’d swiped from Santa’s plate. “I think you missed one.”

“Where?” Greta said, whipping around.

“Here,” Harry replied, slapping an unused bow atop his head. Greta arched a brow. “What? Too cheesy?” Harry grinned.

“No, I just thought my present would be a little lower…” Greta trailed off.

“Mrs. Alcott-Styles! Are you saying…” Harry waggled his brows suggestively.

“Well, you did say you were tired earlier…”

“I’ve woken up,” Harry said, sounding more alert than he had all evening.

“Don’t keep me waiting then,” Greta called over her shoulder as she walked upstairs, Harry following close behind her.

***

A few short hours later, Greta opened her eyes. She could have sworn she heard something, but only silence remained. She snuggled in closer to Harry, but once again, she heard tiny thuds echoing through the hall.

“I think some munchkins are about to give us our wake up call,” Harry mumbled against Greta’s forehead.

Moments later, two kids with bright eyes and dark curls matching their father’s burst into the room, taking a running leap and landing on their parents’ bed.

“Mumma, mumma, mumma,” their son whispered (Greta and Harry had been working on the concept of an ‘inside voice’ with him in recent weeks to middling success). “I think Santa came!”

“I think he did too, baby,” Greta said, smoothing an errant curl on his head. “Do you think we should go see if he left you anything?”

“Yes!!!!” the children shouted, pulling at their parents to coax them out of bed. “Come on, Mumma!”

Greta swung her legs out of the bed, feet searching for her slippers. “Faster,” urged their son.

“Mumma! I drew Santa a picture,” their daughter said. “I told he could look at it but couldn’t take it since I needed to show you. Can we please go downstairs so I can show you?”

“That’s very sweet, honey,” Greta said, pulling a sweatshirt over her pajamas. “And, yes we can go downstairs now.”

Before she followed her kids out of the room, she turned around and caught Harry’s eye.

“See,” he murmured, barely audible. “They still love you and you haven’t missed a thing.”

Greta bit her lip, biting back tears of the happy variety this time.

They opened lots of presents. The kitchen and the Jellycats were a hit. Taffy ate some wrapping paper, and the kids, once again, ate more sugar than they should have. Many movies were watched, many books were read, and many “meals” were cooked in the fake kitchen and served to Greta and Harry, both of whom “ate” those meals with great enthusiasm.

Harry was right. He was always right. These were the memories that mattered.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles ff #harry fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles story

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ziipzeepzop-eez · 1 year ago

Note

if you still do them, is it okay you do like one shots with ROTTMNT boys and a little sibling reader?

but here’s the thing, the reader is a little pink gecko with yellow spots, they’re around 10 or 9 years old and can run just as fast as sonic the hedgehog and basically have the energy of a golden retriever, they’re like a tiny dragon and it’s adorable yet SO. FREAKING. EXHAUSTING!!

❝ pink bubbles and banana laffy taffy!! ❞

₊˚꒰🥞꒱‧ — 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐠𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

｡˚ 𓂋 🍋﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

❝l ɑׁׅ֮/ꪀׁׅ : okay i had to squeeze this one out because OHMIGOSH it is SO. CUTE!!!! i literally got soso excited when i read this because how did you know i'm legitimately obsessed with geckos?! 😭 i literally downloaded picsart to make that collage and wrote this in the span of a day or two because i got so excited aausghshdh !! fluffybun24, fluffy, darlin'. grips your shoulders and brushes your cheek tenderly. thank you. also, i'm just now realizing you asked for one shots after the fact ajsjjhd I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL AFTER RE-READING IT after writing this whole thing out XD DX but foremost, i must tell you that i mostly do my fandom writing in headcanon/reaction formats !! :(( one shot(s) aren't really my forte . . . albeit, i do hope this is just as good !! o7

(honorable mention: @agentturtlecupcake *HARSHLY NUDGES YOU* HEY. HEY LOOK. LOOKLOOKLOOOKLOKKOKLOKOOOKKLLOOOOOOOK. IT'S the, k-KID-🩷💛)

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ oh my goodness me, you are the simultaneous love and light, the bane and exhaustion, of everyone's respective lives.

don't get me wrong, your family absolutely adores you!!

especially since you're :(( the baby :(( aww :(((

it just, kinda freaks everyone thafuq OUT when you zip and zoom and flash everywhere

just. a maniacal streak of pink and yellow.

they don't know peace because of you. (affectionate!)

like they will be mindin' their whole business in its entirety and here you come

"*walks into the main living room* heeeeeyy, anybody seen my jupiter jim issue— [*nyooom!*] SWEET MOTHER OF G O D–"

it's not like you ever have ill intentions, tho 🥹 so it's okay.

"they're cute so it's okay!" — all of your siblings at one point, probably

while they do accept your golden retriever tendencies, it be givin' them gray hairs fr 💀✋

especially because you're so f a s t

you're there one moment then next thing they know you're halfway across the entire lair, tittering and chirping happily away.

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ so, over the course of your life, they've all developed their own designated role when keeping up with you:

raph . . .

being the oldest definitely feels the most responsible for you and acts on it! he himself has developed a sixth sense for when you zoom by and can catch you with (relative) ease every time, and has definitely saved your butt from like. accidentally crashing into a wall or smth sjsjsj

but big bubba can't prevent everything :\ so you have gotten some owies !!

but you can always count on him to be there to help you feel better.

he's your biggest bro 🥹 he always makes you feel better.

but i imagine u're also a maniacal little shit (*cough* thanks leo *COUGH*)

so sometimes you just, str8 up run away from him like ACTIVELY escape his grasp

it deffo takes some effort 😮‍💨 (petition : #saveraphfromhissiblings /lh)

"[NAME]?! Get back here, you little speed monster!!"

*cue toiny baby gecko squealing and The Daily Chase commencement*

oh yeah. it's a daily occurrence.

you stress him out 🤣😭 but it's okay. :))

(after catching you in his hands, holding you up to eye level): "Alright, you little goober. That's enough outta ya today." "But Raaaaph!!"

and then you can't really do anything because raph knows your sweet spot, your little switch, that melts you like putty - a little patch riiiight in the center of your upper back, a well-pressurized scritch is all it takes really, and oh. there we go. down for a nap !

however you simply must have your grand rebellion moments and give him arm gummy bites the entire time but he's the just personification of "😇😌"

ain't no doubting he loves you tho. adores you, really; your bright bubbliness is what makes him smile most days, and even tho your energy is a bit much for him to keep up with, and he'd really like it if you stopped fighting him for afternoon naps sometimes, i don't think he'd change it for the world.

leo . . .

is one who's fairly on par with your hyperactivity, so he's the one we all turn to when your excitement is bubbling over into something a liiiiittle too much :'))

playing tag when you're zooming to and fro is one of you guys' favorites.

but sometimes he doesn't play fair and uses his odachi to teleport >:((

and if you get genuinely upset, he just scoops you up and blows raspberries on your soft lil tummy.

he's the only one who can wear you out so he's an essential part of everyone's lives asksksjd

but bc of this

HE PROBABLY USES YOU AS COLLATERAL TO GET THINGS HE WANTS I'M NOT EVEN PLAYIN

"LEO!!! Ugghhghhh, can you please handle them?!"

"Mmmhmmmmmmm....."

"L E O ಠಗಠ! For the last time, you are NOT choosing for movie night tonight and the kind of pizza!! You've had it all week!!!"

"Ohh, suddenly I have no capability for one very specific baby cotton candy-banana pudding gecko..... Shame. Woeful, horrible, terrible, shame—"

"LEO!!!"

he's a jerk, but he's highkey your idol and he would give the entire world for you in a heartbeat, so :))

donnie . . .

acts like your hyperactivity is an inconvenience...... but in reality, he doesn't mind it.

(only when it compromises his tech. you've only had one to two incidents involving his lab before permanent damage control was done and it's been this way ever since. 😭✋)

sure, sometimes your wild nature can make him cringe on bad days, but what's a sibling if they don't get tired of your antics once every while?

it's healthy development !!

plus. he himself has his moments where his lowkey descent into madness shows its peak, so he can't really talk.

you've all got your quirks, y'know? (/ref)

in truth he accepts it as a part of you, and he loves all of you - i mean c'mon, you're his baby sibling.

and even tho he doesn't openly admit it nearly as much as the rest of your family - he really does think you're adorable.

and in more truth: donnie takes care of you a lot. like- as soon as you started showing signs of your speediness and just-consumed-five-bags-of-candy excitement levels, he completely baby proofed the lair 😭

and you can't tell me he didn't know you'd possess those superhuman levels of speed bro you CAN'T

that man is a scientist and he leaves no stone unturned, especially when it comes to his family.

he has you microchipped too sjjsjdh

[ i just thought of this just now, actually: he and leo are a team when it comes down to your genetics/biological health. donnie researches with his stem-augmented brain and studies your dna down to the very microfiber; leo adapts with his medical affinities to make sure you're the healthiest little gecko mutant kiddo you can be. <3 ]

WE MAY HAVE MADE FUN OF HIM AT THE MOMENT, because how much harm can one baby gecko do Donnie you silly fool honhonhonhon BUT HE'S THE ONLY 👏 ONE 👏 WHO CAME IN CLUTCH.

very much "who's laughing now?"

certainly donnie. my bet's on donnie.

"THEY ALL LAUGHED. THEY CALLED ME A SILLY FOOL. BUT FEAST YOUR EYES, BRETHREN. EATETH THY WORDS!!" "..... Raphie! Bonbon's doin' that crazy scientist shtick again!!" "[NAME]. >:("

on another note, i feel donnie would extend that branch of 'baby-proofing' and relate it to the gift he created for you. [ ref: s1/ep2 — "donnie's gifts" ]

maybe it was something like . . . a malleable sludge, some sort of putty, that melded perfectly over your legs whenever you were starting to get too speedy.

you were initially excited over the cute little metal band anklets gifted to you by your older brother, buuut once it activated .... :((

it made you big sads. :((

being a little speedykins was your most defining trait !! why would donbon try to take that away from you?? :(( donnie :((( donbon why :(((

.... what you don't know, (and me either tbh, we never got that 'explanation' from the inventor himself), is that donnie made it with your specs in mind.

geckos are able to climb vertical surfaces (with some exceptions of course, but for the most part !!) — when activated, those little "putty bands" would've aided in that.

because donnie knows how much you love to run around, especially climbing up the walls, but you can't stick up there forever.

was it made to simultaneously slow your ass down? yes. 🤣😭

(he's only one man what do you want from the poor guy ☠✋ your drive by's were enough to send him into cardiac arrest every time)

...... was it made to adhere to nearly any and every surface texture known to man & mutant kind? for an unprecedented amount of time? with the intentions of you having so much fun with it? also yes.

was it made with intricate care and with, overall, your best interests at heart?

yes.

but after the whole ordeal, he really did mean it when he says you're great just the way you are. :))

in your calmer moments, he likes to have you wrap around his shoulders like a fashion designer scarf and taps at your cute little tail, half as a stim, half as a gesture of affection, while he's in the lab focusing on his latest project

or even just. vibing. y'all are primetime vibey.

he finds your weight comforting. like a tiny weighted pillow.

and he'll never admit that he feels his heart nearly burst with love and pure fondness when you yourself happily curl up into your brother and fall asleep there, cooing softly into his ear.

he built a little comfort bed/pillow extension for you in his battle shell for such occasions <3

but he prefers the sibling cuddles without his shell on.

he trusts you, after all.

(i will never financially recover from this aksjddh SOBBING)

mikey . . .

is exceptionally good at matching all of your moods: your bubbly hyperactivity and bringing you to a calmer, serene state !!

how does he do it. 🧍

he catches you in his arms and strokes/scratches your back to calm you down, and it works like a charm every time !

he never has to use dr. delicate touch on you. despite being the closest in age, surprisingly, you listen to mikey very well !

call it survivor's intuition 🫠 orrrr just the fact that you and mikey are very close and in-tune with one another,

whenever he calls it quits for you - no matter how much you might whine and pout - you genuinely do tone it down.

i know i said this for leo too but i feel like mikey just has that magic touch. yenno?

no pun intended. ha.

but en ee wayz !! yusssss, mikey and [name] are the cutest little goobers.

y'all deffo get roped together being the "babies" of the family,

and despite mikey wanting to outfit that mold — mostly by means of appeasing to raph's overprotective tendencies — he babies you a bit too !!

you like to poke fun. you're observant, clever little thing. you call mikey out on it, going so far as to call him a hypocrite,

and whether you guys have a serious discussion or not is completely up to you !

but for the time being he just pets your head and affectionately tells you to hush, and keeps right on babying you.

he likes being your older brother !! so sue him !!

dynamics change the older you guys get =] so who knows what the future has in store?

you're one of his favorite muses. your color palette never fails to strike inspiration within him 🎨✨

when he catches your pink n' yellow blur in passing, he can come up with an entire idea for murals to tag around, don't play w him

he likes to do body paint on you too !! :))

(completely safe + free of harmful chemicals wbk)

probably makes flowers out of your polka dots (he definitely calls them that) or connects them to make a bigger picture.

he made an entire field of flowers and koi fish pond encompassing your back one time and you absolutely loved it.

you'll always be his little muse 💔

"[Nameeee]!!~ C'mere, polka dot! You wanna see if I can make a constellation this time?" "YAY!!!!" "Wait- waitwaitWAITWAIT SLOW DOWN—" [ *cue wii bowling ball strike sound sequence* ]

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ ahaaa. overall, you're their cute little ball of sunshine. their little sugar carnival. their little pink bubblegum and banana laffy taffy gecko baby! and — while you being.... you, can get just shy of unbearable sometimes, they wouldn't trade you for this world and all the others.

after all, what's a family if you don't accept every part of them? no matter how exhausting it is. <3 you're a handful, but that's why you've got six pairs. and as the years go on, it only grows.

@chachachannah + @sweetparty for the dividers 🩷 @cureqt for the cute emoji combo 💛 & pinterest for the pictures! [the collage is by me!!] 🥰

⟆ ˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ further author notes . . .

™ : as always, susceptible to future editing for grammatical/formatting corrections !!

i absolutely loveddd writing this!! and for the intricacy, this is the quickest i've ever pulled a request-bun fresh from the oven!! :o kudos to you, fluffy! <3 i do hope you like this as much as i did aaaa!! now i've got polka dot gecko sibling brainrot. 🥴 it's true: you never know it's a good idea until it's presented to you !!

a couple of fun facts: "sugar carnival" is a term coined by me, in reference to one of my free verse poems a while back! i, also, consider myself a sugar carnival being at most times ˶ᵔᗜ ᵔ˶ & i came up with the title on the spot after hearing + envisioning "pink gecko with yellow spots". ideal color combo, criminally underrated. fluffy your brain deserves a pedestal and i will personally create it for you with my bare hands.✋🩷💛

╰┈➤ tues. jan 23, 9:18 pm, '24.

#"૮₍ •⤙•˶|✉️ beep! inbox! ˎˊ˗#zeepie beep : fandom! ⭒๋࣭ ⭑🖋˚𔓘｡#⋮ fandom's humble offerings!! ✉⋆ ˚｡#platonic rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader headcanons #rottmnt x sibling reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #x sibling reader #x platonic reader #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt

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primaviva · 1 year ago

Text

gingerbread; gwen stacy

featuring. gwen stacy x fem!reader

synopsis. making gingerbread with your girlfriend—gwen stacy.

warnings. none, just fluff! one suggestive joke and intense kiss description

gingerbread—a cherished christmas classic that invokes a symphony of senses, whisking you away to a world of holiday enchantment. as much as you would hate to admit it to someone who is passionate about christmas, the art of constructing a gingerbread house has eluded you. well, perhaps there was a time in your youth when you attempted such a creation, but it never truly became an integral part of your holiday traditions. sure, you delighted in the occasional indulgence of premade gingerbread cookie snacks found at the local market, striving to awaken the spirit of the season. however, those moments were akin to coloring within the lines of gingerbread-themed books from your childhood—a fleeting taste of the magic.

but today, it seemed that this would change.

gwen, surprising a fervent advocate of all things christmas, extended an invitation to her home while her dad was out working late. the purpose? to make gingerbread.

as you stepped into gwen's apartment, a winter wonderland unfolded before you. the air was infused with the delicate fragrance of freshly cut pine, mingling harmoniously with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. not to mention the little festive touches to the apartment like the wreath that was in your face as you knocked on the door.

in the heart of gwen's kitchen, a tableau of culinary goodness awaited. the ingredients for gingerbread lay scattered across the countertop, more than enough boxes than there should be of premade mix. the scent of ginger mingled with the warmth of the earthy undertones of almond, blending into a fragrant melody that coated the room in an irresistible aroma.

the room buzzed with excitement as you and gwen meticulously measured, combined ingredients, and kneaded the dough. the rhythmic sound of the wooden spoon swirling through the mixture created a rough cadence, accompanied by the gentle clinking of utensils against the mixing bowl.

time seemed to both pass by and stand still at the start of things. with each roll of the pin, the dough spread out, its surface becoming a blank canvas waiting to be shaped into something deliciously beautiful for you to destroyed. gingerbread walls, roofs, windows, and doors emerged from the malleable dough, ready to be transformed into a festive yet architectural masterpiece.

as the premade gingerbread pieces were placed in the oven, the minutes stretched out like taffy, building an air of suspense. the addictive scent of freshly baked gingerbread wafted through the kitchen, enveloping you in its warm embrace.

finally, with a melodious ding, the timer announced the completion of the baking process—a moment that marked the birth of something truly extraordinary.

impatience tinged your words as you exclaimed, "goddamn, i could practically feel my toenails growing in place while waiting for that damn timer!" your frustration evident, you turned your head to the side, seeking any distraction from the anticipation that had reached its peak. with a determined stride, you made your way to the oven, bending down to peer inside. the radiant light within the oven cast a mesmerizing glow upon the smooth, golden-brown texture of the gingerbread, causing your mouth to almost involuntarily salivate.

as you stood there, captivated by the sight before you, gwen playfully observed your expression and couldn't help but chuckle. "take it easy," she teased, joining you by the oven. "even as your girlfriend, i don't think i want to eat gingerbread covered with frosting and... saliva."

her playful remark lightened the moment, allowing a smile to grace your face. the warmth of her presence, coupled with the tantalizing aroma filling the air, intensified the feeling of holiday joy. with a deliberate grace, gwen adorned the oven mitts, preparing to retrieve the gingerbread from its warm haven. as she carefully lifted the tray and placed it on the countertop, the sweet fragrance enveloped the room, an atmosphere of festive delight. it was as if the very essence of christmas had materialized in that humble batch of gingerbread.

"voilà!" gwen declared, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "our gingerbread base is ready for some serious decorating." the prospect of adorning the freshly baked canvas with a burst of color and creativity brought a renewed sense of excitement, infusing the air with a contagious energy.

gwen's eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to face you, a playful grin spreading across her face. "so, my creative partner in crime, any design in mind for our masterpiece?" her words inviting your imagination to run wild. "i was thinking a haunted gingerbread house, complete with gummy worms and licorice spiders. but i'm open to suggestions, of course." a sigh left your lips, of course spiders.

you couldn't help but wear a sly smirk on your face as you locked eyes with gwen, indulging in the banter between you. "y’know, you sound so corny right now," you jest, a hint of truth lacing your words, eliciting a dry laugh.

gwen couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "alright, alright, no more cringey names, got it," she replied, feigning seriousness.

sauntering toward the countertop, you leaned on it, peering closely at the freshly baked gingerbread, contemplating the possibilities. "how about we recreate your apartment? a cute lil’ surprise for mister stacy when he returns home."

the thought of transforming the gingerbread canvas into a miniature replica of her own living space definitely excited gwen, even if it was up to debate if she had the skill to execute that.

“i would love for my dad to come home to see a miniature gingerbread version of our apartment,” she put it simply. gwen leaned against the countertop next to you, examining the gingerbread pieces. "we'll need to get creative with the decorations. maybe some pretzel stick furniture, and we can use icing to make tiny portraits of us hanging on the gingerbread walls," she suggested, eyes sparkling with excitement.

gwen walked off to her cabinets and grabbed an array of things ranging from sprinkles, pretzels and cookies, to gumdrops she had stored all the way in the back where you swore you could’ve seen some cobwebs. "so, how's it feel to be in the presence of a master gingerbread architect? i hope you can keep up with my design skills, babe,” gwen smirked playfully, raising an eyebrow at you.

you couldn’t help but let a laugh escape from your throat. “master gingerbread architect? please, if you can’t make your webs stick to the side of a building for more than fifteen seconds i can only imagine how you think you’ll be able to stick two gingerbread walls together with some frosting,” you tease, playfully bumping her hip.

gwen couldn't help but burst into laughter at your remark, pretending to be offended. "hey now, my web-slinging skills may not translate perfectly to gingerbread construction, but i'll have you know i've got a few tricks up my sleeve," she quipped, winking at you.

as she picked up the box of icing, she playfully flicked a bit of it in your direction. "watch out, or i might just stick you to the gingerbread walls too," gwen teased, sticking her tongue out at you.

but in all seriousness, she was grateful for moments like these, where you could just be yourselves and have fun together. as you focused on decorating the gingerbread pieces, she couldn't help but steal glances at you, a soft smile playing on her lips. it was moments like these that made her appreciate how lucky she is to be in your presence.

you chuckled lowly at her little threat. “i think you should watch out then, cus’ who said i wouldn’t enjoy being webbed to the wall by you?” you questioned, making a bold comment to the tall blonde.

you watched as she got together the frosting, mixing it before putting it in baggies. you began copying her movements, helping her mix the already selected holiday colors such as red, green, and white and put them in their respective baggie before cutting the tip of it so it can dispense the frosting.

gwen couldn't help but blush at your daring response, her pale skin transitioning to a pretty rose while feeling a rush of affection toward you. "oh, you’d enjoy it, huh?" she replied, voice laced with amusement. "well, maybe i'll have to put that to the test sometime."

as you worked together to mix the frosting and fill the baggies, she admired the way you effortlessly picked up on the process. it was one of the reasons she loved being with you—you always embraced new challenges with determination and a willingness to learn.

or at least get through those said challenges… if anything.

gwen grabbed a decorative plate, seemingly a fancy traditional plate that looked irish, probably a gift from her grandparents to her dad. once the frosting was ready, she grabbed one of the gingerbread walls and the floor from the parchment and put a dollop to the plate to make it act as glue for stability. then, she began piping a decorative trim along the edges, using the red frosting. gwen delicately squeezed the baggie, letting the smooth, creamy texture glide onto the cookie. the scent of the sugary frosting mixed with the warm gingerbread, creating an intoxicating aroma.

she glanced over at you, noticing your focused expression as you worked on your own piece. "looking good over there," gwen complimented with a grin, playfully nudging your shoulder. “gingerbread, not you, well you are but- i’m talking about your lovely art right there.”

you let out a choked laugh as your hand faltered from piping the frosting down the side of one of the big gingerbread squares for the apartment. it wasn’t too difficult, but for someone who doesn’t do this annually you clearly struggled with some things. “all i've done so far is stick the back wall to the other side that you did,” you state plainly. “if this is art to you then i would hate to hear what you think of picasso.”

gwen couldn't help but let out a boisterous laugh at your self-deprecating comment. "hey, don't sell yourself short! i’m sure picasso would be so proud to see your one singular gingerbread wall," she reassured you, trying to suppress her giggles.

gwen put her piping bag down and walked over to your direction. you felt her chest hit your back as both her arms snaked from behind your waist to your arms. she reached over and gently took your hand, guiding it back to the frosting baggie. "here, let me show you a little trick. just apply a little pressure and let the frosting flow out smoothly all on its own. you got it," she encouraged, setting an example for you.

you tried to pay attention, but it was hard when her smooth yet raspy voice was whispering in your ear, so close you felt her breath tickling your cheek.

you both continued decorating the gingerbread walls, adding intricate details and personal touches. gwen used the white frosting to create a snow-like effect on the roof, while you expertly piped green frosting to resemble a wreath on the front door.

as you worked side by side, the room filled with laughter and the sweet scent of gingerbread and frosting. it was moments like these, where both of you could be silly and enjoy each other's company, that truly made gwen's heart flutter.

you carefully spread a layer of frosting inside the gingerbread house, creating a smooth carpet-like surface. a mischievous grin plays on your lips as an idea takes hold. secretly, you squeeze a dollop of frosting onto your pointer finger, ready to execute your playful plan. "gwen, come see the carpet i did," you command, diverting her attention from the oh so important and intricate task of assembling miniature furniture out of cookies, pretzels, and other random yet surprisingly edible materials. she turns towards you, her gaze fixed on your direction, unsuspecting of what's about to happen.

swiftly, you rise onto the balls of your feet, reaching her height, and with a quick and unexpected motion, you press the frosting onto the tip of her nose, smudging it up towards the bridge. a mischievous giggle escapes your lips as you revel in the spontaneous act, marveling at the frosting adorning gwen's nose.

gwen's eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping her lips as her fingertips touch the sticky yet velvety texture of the vibrant green frosting adorning her nose. its hue is so vivid, it could rival even the grinch himself. her eyes widened in mock shock, but a mischievous grin quickly spread across her face. "oh, it's on now!" the blonde exclaimed, playfully narrowing her eyes at you.

without missing a beat, she grabbed a dollop of frosting from the table and quickly retaliated, smearing it on your cheek. "oops, looks like you've got a little something on your face," gwen teased, unable to contain her laughter.

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, frosting-covered fingers and all. you couldn’t take each other seriously. as the frosting war continued, you both ended up with streaks of frosting on your faces, looking more like abstract art than gingerbread decorators. but it didn't matter—you were having fun, and that's all that truly mattered in that moment.

“hey, i put a lil’ dot on you and not this fat ass blob,” you defend, wiping some of the frosting from the pile she planted on your nose and adding it to her nose. “cute nose job, rudolph. not lookin’ botched at all,” you teased.

gwen couldn't help but laugh at your quick retort, wiping off some of the frosting from her nose and smearing it on your lower jaw. "oh, so you're a critic now, huh?" she playfully responded, a smirk as clear as a snow globe. "well, i'm just gonna add some extra flair to your already sexy nose. rudolph will have nothing on you."

your laughter filled the room as we continued the frosting battle, merrily colorful streaks on each other's faces. no matter how silly or ridiculous you two might look, you were always able to find joy and laughter together.

but amidst the chaos, gwen couldn't help but steal a moment to appreciate your playful spirit and the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. you were truly her partner in crime, and she wouldn't want it any other way. or how she would put it, her “creative partner in gingerbread crime.” well, whatever that means.

the frosting war continued, we eventually ran out of ammunition, leaving you both covered in frosting from head to shoulder. you and your girlfriend stood there, breathless from laughter, and she couldn't resist pulling you into a tight, frosting-covered hug. "you're the best, you know that?" gwen whispered, her voice filled with genuine affection as raspy as it came.

you instinctively step back from the hug, finding yourself nose-deep in gwen's sweater. the thick frosting that had made its way into your nostrils tickles uncomfortably, and you valiantly suppress the urge to let out a loud sneeze. hastily grabbing a napkin, you wipe away the frosting, finally lifting your gaze to meet gwen's as her words register in your mind.

in that moment, clarity dawns upon you, and you realize what she said. the initial distraction of the frosting mishap fades away as you comprehend the deeper meaning behind her innocent words.

“what?” you questioned, urging her to repeat it.

gwen quickly snapped out of her daze, realizing that she had been staring at you. a slight blush crept up on the blonde’s cheeks as she realized that she had been caught. "oh, uh, sorry," gwen stammered, sounding a bit softer than usual. "i was just… admiring how cute you look, even covered in frosting."

a nervous chuckle escapes gwen's lips, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she finds herself feeling more embarrassed than that one time her headphones failed her during class, blaring my chemical romance for an unplanned five seconds. "i guess i got lost in the moment there. but hey, you're always a sight to see, whether you're covered in frosting or not," she stated, trying to play it off like her hands still don’t falter to shake when you make her nervous. gwen reached out and gently wiped a bit of frosting off your cheek with my thumb, her touch lingering for a moment. "you’re my favorite mess," gwen added.

a warmth spreads across your cheeks in response to gwen's comment. "oh, really?" you retort, secretly wanting to hear more from her. however, you quickly regain your composure, reminding yourselves of the task at hand. "enough, we still have shit to do," you interject, trying to steer the focus back to the gingerbread house.

gwen raised an eyebrow at your response, but couldn't help but notice the underlying hint of vulnerability in your tone. “learn to take a compliment,” she comments.

but gwen's soft smile tugs at your heartstrings, drawing you closer to her. she leans in, her gaze fixed on your eyes, as if she's searching for something deeper within you. in a surprising move, she uses her thumb, still adorned with the frosting she had wiped off you, and gently smears it across your lips. her voice carries innocence as she remarks, "looks like you've got a little something."

the touch of gwen's thumb against your lips sends a subtle jolt of electricity through your body, leaving you momentarily breathless.

but as she stepped closer to you, faces mere inches apart, gwen couldn't resist the magnetic pull between you.

as you close the remaining distance between you, gwen's lips meet yours with a gentle, lingering pressure, initiating a tender kiss. the sensation of her lips against yours sends a shiver of delight down your spine. the world around you seems to dissolve into a hazy blur, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a moment of pure connection.

your lips move in perfect synchronization with gwen's, their dance a delicate and intimate rhythm. each brush and caress of her soft lips against yours ignites a cascade of sensations to your skin—subtle yet electrifying. the taste of the frosting lingers on your tongues, a delectable blend of sweetness merging with the warmth of her own unique lip balm, a hint of vanilla intertwined with the minty sweetness.

lost in the tender embrace, you become acutely aware of every detail—the velvety texture of her lips, the way they meet and meld with yours in the most gentle and affectionate manner in which she moves. it's a moment where time stands still, where nothing else matters except the intoxicating closeness and shared intimacy between the two of you.

as you gently pull away from the kiss, your eyes instinctively rise to meet gwen's gaze. her lips, now adorned with a generous coating of green frosting, seem to attract even more of the sticky sweetness due to the presence of her lip balm. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, betraying your flustered state, while gwen smirks knowingly at you. a dry scoff escapes her lips, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on you, clearly surprised by the effect she has on you.

your attention is captivated as gwen's tongue emerges, delicately gliding along her lower lip, collecting the frosting in a deliberate and tantalizing manner. the sight of her tongue ascending to her upper lip, methodically removing the sweet coating, holds you in a mesmerized state. you watch with unwavering focus, afraid to tear your gaze away, as she withdraws her tongue back into her mouth, savoring the taste once more.

gwen, fully aware of the effect her actions have on you, wears an expression of both satisfaction and amusement. it becomes evident that she takes pleasure in being the sole catalyst for such a reaction from you, relishing in the power she holds over your senses.

as gwen finished licking off the frosting from her lips, she let out another low laugh. "mmm, still tastes as good as ever," she commented, her voice tauntingly husky. "you’re right, enough is enough. let’s get back to work, shall we?"

with a playful wink directed your way, gwen swiftly turns around, retrieving a towel and extending it towards you. you accept it, grateful for the gesture, as she grabs another towel for herself. without missing a beat, she proceeds to wipe her face clean, the remnants of frosting vanishing from her lips and leaving behind a pristine canvas. with a determined focus, she resumes her position, ready to dive back into the task at hand.

as you and gwen huddle together, the gingerbread apartment sprawled out before you, a wave of excitement washing over you both. the gingerbread walls, perfectly baked and golden brown, stand tall and sturdy, ready to be transformed. with nimble fingers, you take the lead, carefully applying royal icing along the seams of the rest of the walls, joining them together to form the structure. gwen follows suit, her touch deft and precise, ensuring the stability of the gingerbread apartment. the icing, a pristine white, resembles freshly fallen snow, enhancing the enchanting charm of the scene.

together, you meticulously construct the details—a miniature door, adorned with candy cane stripes, opens up to reveal a sugary haven within. the windows, crafted from translucent sugar sheets, allow glimpses into the home.

inside the gingerbread apartment, you and gwen become masterful decorators, so much so even the hgtv channel overlords would envy you two. tiny tinsel garlands, carefully woven together, drape along the walls, reflecting the glow of imaginary holiday lights. delicate icicle-shaped ornaments, made from crystallized sugar, hang from the ceilings, shimmering with a frosted sparkle. the living room area boasts a miniature christmas tree, painstakingly fashioned from piped green icing and dressed with tiny edible baubles, crafted from old halloween candies. a crackling fireplace, created by using chocolate shavings and red m&ms, casts a false warmth to the empty room. moving into the kitchen, a gingerbread dining table, complete with intricate icing lacework, holds a feast of miniature treats. tiny gingerbread cookies, iced with intricate designs, sit in a bowl, waiting to be enjoyed by you and your girlfriend. plates of assorted candies and chocolates are arranged, slowly dwindling as your hands continue to dig into the bowl for more material.

the two of you continued working on the gingerbread house, your playful banter and teasing gradually fading into a comfortable silence. as you placed the final touches, the gingerbread apartment began to take shape, looking like a cozy little abode.

both of you stepped back, admiring your handiwork. the walls were neatly decorated with frosting trim, the roof had a snowy white frosting coating, and the windows were outlined with colorful candies. it was painfully over-stimulating to the eyes of anyone who hates christmas, but also beautiful.

gwen reached out and took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "look at that! we make quite the dynamic duo, don't we?" she remarked, a bit too prideful of her mediocre work. "our gingerbread house is the envy of all gingerbread houses.”

you continue to stare at it, finally realizing why it bothered you. “it’s missing something,” you put simply. “we need to add the little people who will live in this apartment.”

gwen nodded in agreement, leaning a bit onto your shoulder to see from your perspective. "you're right, it needs some little residents to bring it to life," she replied, her mind already racing with ideas.

she reached for the bowl of extra gingerbread dough and started rolling it out. gwen looked over at you, a soft yet evident grin on her face. "how about we make gingerbread versions of ourselves? it'll be like a little homage to us," she suggested, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

gwen began cutting out the shapes, carefully crafting miniature versions of the both of you with the dough. as she added the details, gwen couldn't help but chuckle at the tiny gingerbread drum set she included for her miniature self.

once the dough was baked and cooled, you set to work on decorating our gingerbread doppelgangers.

as gwen rummages through her cabinets, retrieving an array of icing tubes, a flicker of suspicion tugs at the corners of your mind. the sheer variety she has in her possession leaves you slightly amazed, as well as curious and a bit concerned. nonetheless, you set aside your intrigue and begin piping the features of your gingerbread creation, starting with your own skin tone, meticulously crafting every detail.

glancing over at gwen's side, a knowing smirk graces your lips as you catch a glimpse of her artistic endeavors. with precision and flair, she expertly pipes her iconic half-shaved hairstyle onto the gingerbread figure. the piercing blue eyes she possesses, which sometimes give you the creeps, are replicated with remarkable accuracy. the adorable ensemble of wide-legged jeans, converse shoes, and a shirt adorned with a hand-drawn heart catches your attention. squinting slightly, you can read word for word what it says.

"i heart my girlfriend?" you repeat aloud, surprise evident in your voice.

gwen's laughter rings out, full and infectious. "you took the words out of my mouth," she playfully teases, reveling in the shared sentiment.

unable to resist the warmth that spreads across your face, you steal a glance to your right, discovering that gwen has already crafted a little gingerbread man of her father. turning your attention back to your own mini-you, you work diligently, not wanting to fall behind the swift pace set by your girlfriend.

as you finished and placed the gingerbread versions of yourselves inside the gingerbread house, it truly came to life.

you stepped back, taking in the sight of your creation one final time. "perfect," you declared, a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction filling you.

"it’s so perfect,” gwen adds, mimicking what you said.

you let out an exaggerated eye-roll, your playful annoyance evident. "well, thanks for that," you quip, though your words are tinged with a hint of amusement. but then, as a mischievous thought strikes you, you freeze in mock disbelief, placing your hands dramatically on your head.

in a sarcastically shocked tone, you inquire, "but wait... who will protect them from harm?" your voice drips with playful melodrama, heightening the comedic effect of your question.

slowly turning towards her, you meet her gaze, awaiting her response. with a mischievous grin, she finally breaks her silence.

"i'm so glad you asked," she declares.

in one swift motion, gwen lifts her mini gingerbread representation of herself and playfully makes it leap onto the roof of the gingerbread apartment. as she rotates it, a delightful surprise is revealed—the infamous ghost spider suit, meticulously piped onto the other side down to the mask to the teal ballet slippers.

"don't worry," gwen reassures you with a touch of theatrical flair, "i'll be there to save my damsel in distress."

you try to maintain an unamused expression, your face fighting back a smile as you struggle not to burst into laughter.

gwen couldn't help but break into uncontrollable laughs at your reaction, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

"surprise!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her amusement. "you didn’t think i would add the one and only spider woman of new york? you had to have seen this coming."

gwen playfully made her mini gingerbread ghost spider do a little victory dance on the roof of the gingerbread apartment, reveling in the silliness of it all. but beneath the lightheartedness, there was a hint of truth to her words.

she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, laughter subsiding into a warm smile. "but y’know, i don't need a superhero suit to be your hero," she whispered.

gwen couldn't help but lean in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, the taste of frosting still lingering.

both of you erupted into laughter, unable to contain your amusement at gwen's joke. the joyful sound filled the room until it was cut short as the door knob turned and the door abruptly swung open, revealing gwen's father returning home from his shift at the station.

"how's it going, girls..." his voice trailed off, his steps slowing as he took in the unexpected scene before him.

the air was thick with the scent of frosting, and the room bore witness to a delightful chaos of flour, candies, and scattered decorations. but amidst the mess, the most prominent sight was your meticulously crafted miniature replica of the apartment.

you both froze in place as her dad's voice filled the room, a mix of embarrassment and panic coursing through your girlfriend's veins. she turned to face him, cheeks burning with a bright shade of red she usually rocked when embarrassed. "uh... hey, dad," gwen stammered, trying to sound casual despite the chaos surrounding you both.

gwen quickly glanced at you, hoping to find some solace in the situation, but it seemed like you were just as caught off guard as her. she could practically hear the gears turning in her dad's head as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

before he could say anything, gwen took a deep breath and mustered up all the confidence she could. "surprise, dad! we made a gingerbread apartment!" she blurted out, gesturing towards your creation. "and, uh, we may have gotten a little carried away with the frosting and...stuff.”

“stuff?” george repeated, stepping closer to the counter to get an even better look at the creation. you could see her dad's expression soften as he took in the sight, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. "well, it certainly looks like you two had a blast," he chuckled, shaking his head. "just make sure to clean up after yourselves, alright?"

in perfect synchrony, your voices blend seamlessly as you both respond simultaneously with the words "of course, mr. stacy" and "yes, dad.”

relief washed over you both as you realized her dad wasn't angry or upset. he understood that sometimes you both could get a little carried away with our antics. you both nodded vigorously, already planning on how to tackle the mess.

as her dad left the kitchen, she turned to you with a sheepish smile. "well, that could have gone worse," gwen affirmed, relief evident in the way her chest exhaled. "looks like we'll have a lot of cleaning up to do, huh?"

“a lot seems like an oversimplification of it,” you groan, looking around at the absolute mess you both made of the kitchen. “and here i thought we was finally gonna eat the damn thing”

gwen grabbed a nearby towel and started wiping the frosting off the table, motioning for you to join her. "but you know what they say, babe. teamwork makes the dream work," she added, causing you to instinctually roll your eyes yet again.

as you diligently sweep the floor, meticulously wash down the counters, and even kneel down to scrub away any lingering evidence of your reckless baking, your eyes continue to wander back to the oh so enchanting gingerbread house. its intricate details and sugary allure beckon you, tempting your senses to just skip the cleaning and go straight to dessert. from a distance, gwen chuckles playfully as she attentively wipes down the inside of the stove.

"ahem," she interrupts. "i must kindly request that you refrain from placing your little grimy hands on our masterpiece," gwen mockingly asserts.

she pauses, allowing a moment for her words to sink in. "please, let it exist in its full glory for at least thirty more minutes," she pleads, a hint of jest coloring her voice. "or, if you can't resist, at least capture its beauty on your phone before you rip it apart."

a deep sigh escaped from your lips as you surrender to your girlfriend, continuing to guide the broom across the floor.

- comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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zerooup · 18 days ago

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vg curly with regressor daisuke headcanons myb? ty!

Cg! curly and regressor daisuke!

DON'T LIKE, DONT READ. DONT HARASS ME BECAUSE YOU DONT LIKE WHAT I DO!

⭐ They're both very high energy; despite both of their sleep schedules being absolute garbage. Though, Curly is VERY easily able to keep up with Daisuke's shenanigans.

⭐ Literally Golden retriever cg and border collie regressor. That's them.

⭐ Though Curly doesn't like being called "papa/dada" So Daisuke usually calls him "bubba" or "mama" if he's feeling particularly small. Curly doesn't mind either. but he usually calls Daisuke "sweetheart" though he did pick up "lil man" from Swansea! Things along those lines!

⭐ If curly has nothing to do, you bet he's sneaking Daisuke sweets, His favorites are banana Laffey taffy and any type of chocolate! Namely if it has coconut in it! Reminds him of back home.

⭐ Now, if Curly is DEAD tired; like. Unable to function, Daisuke forces him to cuddle until they both fall asleep. Which, works sometimes; usually ends in Curly holding Daisuke as he slept. Though any time he can get off his feet is welcome.

⭐ Music is a MUST. This is how Daisuke found out that Curly was an MCR/ICP fan back in college [Jim got him into them, and he'll be damned if those songs don't hit insanely good while he's working out!]

⭐ Speaking of working out; he usually takes Daisuke with him! Namely Curly doing exercise while Playing with Daisuke. He needs to go back and forth from cockpit to the lounge? He'll do it with Daisuke on his back. Or if he's checking stuff in storage; he'll race with Daisuke up and down the rows! Of course, Curly makes sure Daisuke doesn't wander too far!

#agere #sfw agere #fandom agere #sfw age regression #age regression #agere sfw #xxsc headcannons #mouthwashing #agere mouthwashing #mouthwashing agere

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the-scooby-gang · 8 months ago

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About the different Rodger's familiars, is Barbra (Barbie) still considered part of the family and if so is her familiar her golden retriever Taffy? And If so are the rest of the dogs familiars to her sisters. According to google, the dogs are Taffy, DJ, Rookie, Honey, Tiffany, and Tanner.

Yes! Taffy is indeed Babie’s Doo. I answered more about her and her siblings dogs here:

#scooby gang #scooby doo #gih answers #The Rogers Family AU!#barbie roberts #taffy doo

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atsadi-shenanigans · 10 months ago

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Feeding Alligators 41 - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Rated M for violence, swearing, and innuendo.

You and Astarion do a bit of reconnaissance.

On AO3.

Wyll is now a devil. That is a thing that can, apparently, fucking happen in Faerun. You quietly add “Mizora” to your “fuckheads to kill??” mental list. You ain’t sure if Wyll’s new look is permanent, or if it even goes more than skin deep. He, understandably, wants some time to process the whole thing—away from y’all—so you don’t ask.

“Mmm,” Astarion tuts. “That’s a warlock bargain for you.”

Catches your blank stare, scoffs, and has to explain (“Not even devils? What do you mean Ay-yarth only has humans?”)

Karlach goes real quiet. You think she might be tearing up, but she runs so hot, any tears evaporate before they can pool.

You sit with her a bit. Let her talk at you. You don’t got much to say—isolated as Earth is from all this shit (is it, though? Seems to be an awful lot of cultural and culinary crossover to be coincidence). You ain’t sure why somebody like Wyll ever felt so desperate he had to make a deal with a devil for power.

“I think he’ll be okay,” you say.

“Really?” Karlach says. She’s big and intimidating, but she’s still got that golden retriever softness to her. When she’s not swinging that ax around. Or ripping saplings out of the ground and replanting them with her bare fucking hands.

“He don’t seem the type to give up,” you say.

And this gets a snort out of her. “He chased my big, red ass halfway through the hells, alright. Yeah. Yeah. Good old Blade of the Frontiers wouldn’t let that sack of shit win, will he? And between you and me, I’m gonna find a way to get that bitch’s claws out of him, if I have to smash her face in to do it.”

She’s like a black hole, only bright and shining, pulling you into her gravity well. “I’d pay money to watch that. Shit, I’ll help you do it.”

“You will?” And sweet god, all that violence-tinged enthusiasm focuses on you and your spine melts all warm and gooey like taffy in the sun. You want to swoon into her giant arms.

But can’t. Because she’s on fire.

Instead, you nod. “If we get a chance to get him out of this bullshit contract, we do it.”

“Fuck yeah. I knew you’d be alright!”

You would do almost anything to make this giant, flaming woman smile.

***

Naturally, that means killing the fuck out of some fake paladins. You should probably be more squeamish about that. None of the others are. Karlach is downright chipper and Lae’zel smiled for less than half a second when y’all set out.

“How many did you say were there?” Gale says.

Karlach answers, but your gaze slides to Wyll, sticking to the middle of the group. His cheeks have ridges, now. His eye turned black and red. And he’s got an impressive set of oil-black horns curving up from his forehead.

He was so eager, yesterday. So in his element, confidant he could remove a piece of evil from the world. And it was a lie. The whole thing might be a lie.

You know what that feels like.

“You okay?” you say, dropping back to his side.

He tries to smile, but it’s like a gray cloud blocking the sun. “I’ll be alright. Best focus on the mission at hand. It won’t be easy fighting agents of Zariel. Even if we outnumber them.”

This close, and you can trace the ridges disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. His cheekbones jut out, now. The whole look is sharper than before. But his eyes are still soft and kind.

“You’ll be okay, Wyll,” you say. “If you need anything, ask, yeah? I mean it.”

He kinda blinks at you. Attempts a smile and almost sticks the landing this time.

Then the wind shifts and the reek of carrion left out to rot washes over you. The road is up ahead. And beyond that, the tollhouse.

“Keep yourself safe,” Wyll says.

“You, too.”

***

Karlach wants to kick down the front door and start smashing heads together. You talk her down. Barely. She’s literally blazing by the time she steps back, sulking. She says there were five. Astarion noticed four, and they’d said they were “gravely wounded.” They mighta lost somebody.

Y’all need to scout the area.

Your gaze lands on Astarion. His eyes narrow.

“You and me take a peek?” you say.

And half the group objects. Not over Astarion—which he goes full offended cat about. Rather, it’s you. Until you remind them that 1. you got Lae’zel outta that trap by yourself 2. nobody's stabbed you yet, and 3. you are the most unassuming out of y’all’s entire group.

Lae’zel with her fuck off sword and her silver armor. Shadowheart with her cool, skin peeling glare (and also her armor and that mace). Gale is a fucking wizard and anybody at fifty paces can clock that. Wyll and Karlach both have horns, and Karlach is on fire.

“Sides, I ain’t going through the front door,” you say. “Hopefully they don’t see us at all.”

So with a reluctant “be careful” and “I can’t heal a severed limb, you know” and a “fuck yeah, bust some heads!” you both go scuttling towards the nearest overturned wagon to the tollhouse, the one that’s part of the makeshift barricade.

“Hmph,” Astarion sniffs. “No sending off for me, then.”

You kick her body like the football, your brain chimes in helpfully.

“Poor Miette,” you say. Flap your hand when he frowns. “It’s a saying. I would very much like it if you don’t get hurt.”

He settles. A bit.

Them bodies are still sprawled everywhere like lawn clippings. That alone makes you side with Karlach.

“Who leaves bodies just lying around where they sleep?” you say, as the two of you crouch down (your knee crack is barely audible) to watch.

“Oh, most monsters,” Astarion says.

You remember how he just left that pig in the road. “Huh.”

There. Backroom Lurker woman emerges from a side door on the second story. Stares out over the woods a bit. Stares out so long your left calf goes from burn to cramp. Astarion is absolutely fixated on her. Eyes not moving, not even twitching. His nostrils flare and he goes so utterly still, you know he’s not breathing. He’s every inch a big cat on the stalk. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Eventually, Backroom Lurker starts towards the stairs leading down to the porch. Stands there as you start sweating, swearing without using your vocal cords, before she finally opens a door at ground level and slips inside.

You fall on your ass and hiss as you stretch your legs. Astarion gives you an eyebrow arch and you know the bastard is laughing in his head. At least it broke up his eerie staring.

“What now?” you say.

He hesitates a second. Something flashes across his face, but then he looks back to the tollhouse and shifts his crouch.

“We wait.” His voice is so soft it gives you an ASMR shiver. Which he notices, and because he’s an asshole, it makes him smirk. “We need to establish her pattern before we try to slip between her little outings. At least one more go should give us a rough estimation.”

You nod. Stretch your legs a bit more before folding them in criss-cross applesauce (Sasha taught you that phrasing; you refuse to abandon it). And wait. And wait. The sun beats down and you ain’t even in armor and you’re starting to overheat. Astarion isn’t sweating, though. Nor does he seem bothered. He watches the tollhouse—gaze still creepily fixed, but has tilted his head so he catches as much of the light on his face that he can. He’s a cat sprawled on a windowsill. One watching for a pretty bird.

And there she finally is. Backroom Lurker reappears upstairs again some fifteen minutes later. Does her whole “standing around and looking at the trees” schtick before making her round and going back inside.

Astarion lifts his crouch. You scramble back to your feet just in time for him to take off. God, he’s fast and he is fucking silent. More like a ghost streaking towards that porch while you lumber and pant behind him. He barely slows as he sort of flows up onto the porch, still without a sound. There, he turns back. Frowns to find you about half the distance behind and already panting. You redouble your effort (maybe Lae’zel had the right idea; you would not have been able to do this a week ago).

You stop before the porch. Turn and reverse hop your ass onto it and roll as quietly as you can to your own feet. He keeps glancing behind you (the door where Lurker disappeared into) and up the stairs.

“Keep quiet,” he says as if you aren’t already smothering your own urge to fucking pant under trembling slow breaths. Then he starts up the stairs.

You tread carefully, much more slowly, up after him. Until you’re both at the upper deck. He starts to move and then stops so fast and completely, you think something shot him. But then his face twists—oh fuck, that man is a fucking vampire—and his lips peel back in the most fucked up grin you’ve ever seen. He silent-sprints over to the other side of the door, crouches down.

Leaves you standing there all dumb and awkward. Just in time for the door to swing open. For Backroom Lurker to step out, muttering, and take two steps and notice your own frozen ass.

“What—” she says.

And Astarion is on her. He rises up, something terrible, something that locks your bones and trips your heart. A hand comes around her front, glittering silver. The knife flashes. Opens her neck in a spray of blood. And before the first drop can even hit the deck, he tears into the wound with his fucking mouth. His other hand comes up, clamps her own lips shut—pretty sure he severed the vocal cords, oh god, is that just instinct? And he clutches her to him.

It’s part cat, part python. Her legs kick and she reaches up to try to tear at him, wrench him off her. But her neck is open and his teeth savage the wound and she makes these horrifying gurgling, gasping sounds. She looks at you. All fear and desperation—

You look away. You don’t need to see this. Don’t need this burned into your memory. You track the both of them out of the corner of your eye as she slumps. As he follows her down, until she’s sprawled out and he’s hunched over her, making those slurping, half-moaning noises of his own.

Until he finally wrenches himself off, panting, looking high as fuck. His grin is a wet, red smear across his face.

That…

Holy shit.

“That’s, uh…” you say. You ain’t even sure what you meant to finish.

He sighs happily. Stands. Pulls a rag from his pocket to clean off the knife.

Backroom Lurker lies deader than the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Just like Olodan, her head is damn near sliced off, only the spine and a flap of skin holding it to the rest of her. Astarion’s lower face is absolutely soaked in blood, a sheen of it running down the front of his armor.

He notices you staring. “Is there something in my teeth, darling?”

You ogle a second. And then you can’t help yourself. There’s so much death and maiming, and your brain always did short circuit to humor.

You laugh. It’s a quiet thing, high-pitched, more of a wheeze. You motion to his mouth. “Yeah. You got a spot right…right there.”

His eyebrows lift, eyes glittering. The game between you is shifting and you’re kind of stuck in this raft as the current veers off course. This seems to tickle him right back. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand. Pops it back in to suck it clean, glove and all.

“Better?” he says.

He’s smeared it, is what he’s done.

And the only thing you can come up with it, “Eh, I don’t think anyone’ll notice.”

A drop pools on his chin and falls to the deck between his feet.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, and he damn well knows. Has to feel all that wet on his face, but he makes no move to clean it (aside from occasional finger swipes, like stealing icing from a mixing bowl).

He examines the dead woman a second. But doesn't crouch to go through her things. Instead, he looks at you.

“She’s all yours,” he says. When you only stand there and stare, he motions to her. “You claimed first shot at jewelry, didn’t you? Her pockets are right there, my dear. I’ll let you have your turn.”

You…what. What the fuck? Why does that sound…what?

But he just stands there, smiling at you. Like he’s not covered in blood. Like he didn’t quite literally tear her throat open with his own teeth and now you’re both standing here, in the sunlight, over her cooling corpse and talking about dibs rights.

“We are running out of time, darling,” he says. “If you want to continue this scouting venture, that is.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fake paladins y’all gotta kill. Right. And he’s going to stand there until you do this, isn’t he? Fucking asshole. Fucking goblin ass psycho man.

You look down at Lurker. This was your idea. You know he had to kill her—it ain’t actually that easy to knock people out and it causes literal brain damage; she might’ve died anyway. And y’all are here to kill all of them. And, well…you do need money. She won’t.

Fuck.

You reach down, careful not to look past the arm flung over her torso, careful not to touch her anymore than you have to. A quick rummage through her pockets and you draw out five gold pieces.

“Hmm, no jewelry,” Astarion says. “How unfortunate.”

No jewelry. Just your first corpse robbing. Dead-thieving? What the fuck does one even call this, and why does it feel like some kinda test? One Astarion seems to approve of, judging from the glint in his eyes.

Though that might be the blood lust.

“We may only have a few moments before the others notice her deviation,” he says and pads over to the ladder next to the door. He gestures for you to go first and gives a bow at the waist, like some fancy pants doorman.

You got a dead woman’s coins in your pocket and he’s covered in blood, so you do the normal person thing and give him a silly bow back. What the fuck even is your life.

Your knees bitch about the climb, but you make it anyway. Settle into a crouch on the open patio to let Astarion take the lead. He palms the door handle, cracks it and pauses, listening. He ain’t breathing again, so you hold your own lungs as still as you can until he gives what you assume is an “all clear” gesture. Then he eases through.

You glance back, catch a flash of red at the barricade—the crew ducking down. Close enough that if you two get caught, one of them might get to you both before y’all get your asses skewered.

You breathe deep, flick your shaking hands a couple of times, and follow Astarion.

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#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #tavstarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #astarion fic #slow burn #plus size tav #demisexual tav #modern girl in faerun #astarion is a cryptid murder hobo

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