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corroded-hellfire · 2 months ago

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April Fool's and Babies Due - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story ❤️ Written with the best of the best @munson-blurbs

Summary: When you go into labor on April Fool’s Day, Eddie thinks it’s a prank. It’s kind of hard to deny when your water breaks, though.

Notes: The time has come, the day is here 💕

Warnings: childbirth and all that comes with it, there’s a scare but everything is okay, Eddie just about has a panic attack

Words: 9.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

April Fool's is always an amusing day in the Munson household. A day full of mischief and trickery seems tailor-made for you guys. To no one’s surprise, Luke gets the most into it. Sometimes you think he starts planning next year’s pranks as soon as this year’s ones are done. Ryan has been known to throw a solid prank someone’s way once in a while as well. Personally, it’s hard for you to decide if his pranks against Luke or Eddie are the funniest to witness.

Your husband can keep up with his sons in regard to the shenanigans. He can usually get one over on you before you don’t trust anything he says for the rest of the day. It’s definitely a day that’s taught you how to think on your toes.

This year’s April Fool's is the first one Eliza is old enough to truly understand. It’s much easier for her to understand the concept now that she’s four. Of course, she wanted to join in on the Munson fun and prank her brothers and father. Luckily, the simplest tricks gave her immense joy. She placed a whoopee cushion on Eddie’s chair at the dinner table. It was quite evident to your husband that something was off when the cushion of the seat was raised several inches higher than usual. One glance at the little girl biting her lip and clenching her fists was enough to broadcast that she’s the one waiting in anticipation to see how it goes. Of course, Eddie sits down on the cushion and the fart noise that comes out sends Eliza into hysterics.

“I got you, Daddy!” She cheers.

“You got me, sweet pea!”

The pranks pulled on you this year were pretty mild, and you give full credit to the babies growing inside of you. No one wants to truly scare a pregnant woman who is at 35 weeks. The bag of Luke’s Lucky Charms shoved into your Rice Krispies box did manage to catch you off guard. You chuckled at the rainbow in your cereal bowl as you poured in the milk. Ryan switched half of the family photos in the living room to pictures of different actors. It was certainly amusing to see Johnny Depp posing on the red carpet right next to your wedding photo.

Eddie’s prank on you was a good one, you eventually admitted to him. For days on end, you had been telling Eddie how you were craving Chinese food. He kept saying he would pick some up this week. So, when Wednesday came and he said he was bringing home your favorite, you saw red when he walked through the front door with a pizza box.

“Eddie, what the hell?” you’d asked.

“What?”

“You said you were getting Chinese.”

“Huh? I thought you wanted pizza, princess,” he’d said.

You whined and rubbed your hands over your face. Part of you wanted to cry, actually. You’d been looking forward to this for so long.

“Well, maybe you’ll like the kind of pizza I got?” Eddie set the box down on the counter and opened the lid to reveal Styrofoam containers overflowing with noodles and rice.

“You’re such a dick,” you whined with a laugh.

“But you love me anyway.”

He had a point.

You told everyone the day before April Fool’s that you wouldn’t be pulling any pranks because you didn’t have the energy to devise any. Of course, none of them believed you and were on the lookout the entire day. Even if you did have something planned, the pressure near your pelvis kept your mind pretty occupied. The doctor said that it’s to be expected the further along you go, with the twins bearing down, ready to get into position. But the pressure seemed to be just a little worse today.

“Feeling okay, baby?” Eddie asks as he takes his watch off for bed.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh as you waddle over to your side of the bed. “This damn feeling like they’re pressing on all my organs down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Literally?” Your husband gives you a playful smirk as he pulls down the blankets on your bed.

“Kinda feels like it, yeah,” you reply.

It takes some effort to get into bed and get comfortable under the blankets. Eddie sits on his side, attentively monitoring to see if you’ll need his help or not. Once you’re settled back against your pillows, you give him a thumbs up.

“Good to go,” you say.

Eddie slides closer to you beneath the blankets until his legs are pressed up against yours. Gently, he lifts your chin and leans in to press his lips to yours.

“I love you, gorgeous.”

When he pulls away, you’re glaring up at him—not too fiercely, but enough to let him know you’re not exactly feeling the pet name at the moment.

“I love you, too, Daredevil.”

“Daredevil?” Eddie cocks a brow.

“He’s blind right?” You stretch your arm out haphazardly in the direction of the stairs in your home—near where your youngest son’s room is. “That’s what Luke said. Talking about that movie with Ben Affleck or something? Ugh, I don’t know.” You heave a deep breath and let your hand fall onto your protruding belly.

“And why am I blind?” Eddie asks as he scoots himself back over to his side of the bed.

“That little term of endearment you gave me.”

Eddie sighs and looks back over at you.

“We gonna do this again?” he asks. “How many times do I have to knock you up for you to get that you’re so fucking hot pregnant?”

“Okay, I’m even putting that aside,” you say, swiping a hand in front of you. “I’m just a mess lately. No sleep. Pain. Harder to do basic shit, even like, brush my hair.”

“You’re just being a Mrs. Grumpy Gills because you’re so uncomfortable right now.” Eddie lays back against his pillows and tucks one arm behind his head.

Your eyebrows raise as you slowly turn your head to meet your husband’s gaze.

“Did you just call me, ‘Mrs. Grumpy Gills?’”

He groans and flops his other arm down across his face.

“Ugh. You know, I appreciate the boys taking Eliza out places lately, I really, really do. But did they have to go to the goddamn aquarium? It led to this Finding Nemo phase that seems never ending.”

“How many times has she made you watch it now?” you ask.

“Shit, I lost count.” Eddie chuckles and lowers his pale, tattooed arm from his face onto his chest.

Another pulse strikes your pelvic area and even irritates your lower back this time. Your face scrunches up as you squirm around a little, coming to the realization that there is no feasible way to rub your lower back at the moment. Last time your back hurt this way, rubbing it helped, you remember. God, it’s hard for you to even remember the last time you had that pain down there. The last time must’ve been…nah, it’s just the pressure the doctor told you about getting worse. Isn’t it?

“Goodnight, princess,” Eddie says, reaching over and ghosting his knuckles along your jawline.

“Goodnight, Crush the Turtle.”

Eddie scoffs and playfully swats at you before leaning the other way to turn off his bedside lamp.

The room plunges into darkness. The pain spasms in your back again and this time you sure as hell know what that was. You stretch as far as you can to click on the bedside lamp on your end.

“Hmm?” Eddie pushes himself up onto an elbow and looks at you in concern. “What? What is it?”

“Shit,” you mutter as you try to push yourself up to a seated position. “Eds, I’m having contractions. This isn’t the carrying low crap anymore.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he goes to get up, but then he pauses. A smile grows on his lips, and he shakes his head as he settles back down again.

“Nice try, babe,” he says.

“What?” You furrow your brow and rest your hands on your bump.

“I’m not falling for it,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “You thought if you waited until the end of the day, you’d be able to get me. But I’m wise to you.”

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you get out through gritted teeth.

“Sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re talking to the man who once pranked his uncle by bringing a raccoon into his trailer. You’re gonna have to up your game.”

Pain rattles in your lower back once more. You’re this close to calling Wayne right now and scolding him for raising an absolute moron. But those plans are put on hold when you feel a trickle of liquid between your legs.

You pull back the blankets and point towards your pajama shorts. “I’m. Not. Joking.”

Eddie’s eyebrows nearly scrape his hairline. “Oh, shit.” He sits up straighter, his body tensing. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you practically hiss. “And unless you want to accuse me of peeing myself to ‘keep the prank going,’ I suggest you get your ass in gear.”

“Y-Yeah. No. I mean, my ass is gearing. In gear.” Christ, this is his fourth time doing this, and he’s acting like it’s his first. “You wanna get changed, or…”

You bite your tongue to keep from making a snarky comment about hoping you get to sit in your amniotic fluid. “Yeah. Grab that god awful purple dress? I’m not putting on pants.”

After he gets you dressed, he helps you down the stairs to the ground level of your home.

“Why’d we buy a goddamn two-story?” you grumble.

Eddie isn’t dumb, so he doesn’t remind you that you’re the one who fell in love with this house the minute you stepped inside. He leads you into the bonus room—soon to become the younger kids’ playroom—that’s between Luke and Ryan’s rooms, and gets you situated on the futon in there.

“Ryan’s probably still awake.” Eddie instinctively looks at his wrist where his watch should be, but he forgot to put it on, all his focus securely on you.

Even though it’s a school night, Ryan is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and he’s not going to go to sleep just because his parents told him to. He’ll give you guys going into his room at a certain time, but no way is he going to go right to bed.

Eddie knocks on Ryan’s door, hand itching to grab the handle and just barge in, but he restrains himself and waits for Ryan’s soft reply of, “Come in.”

The look on your son’s face as he tugs out his earbuds tells Eddie that he was prepared to be reprimanded about being up still, listening to music and reading. But Eddie is honestly thankful he’s still awake.

“Ry,” Eddie says and ignores the little huff of annoyance the boy gives in return. “I need you to listen out for Eliza if she wakes up. We need to head to the hospital.”

Ryan is instantly up off his bed, his eyes wide as he pushes past his father in the doorway.

“The babies are coming?” Ryan’s head swivels until he spots you on the futon.

Mere feet away from the two Munson men, Luke’s bedroom door swings open, and his curly-haired head pops out into the hallway. Patch takes advantage of the fourteen-year-old’s door opening and darts out.

“The babies are coming?!”

It will never cease to amaze Eddie that Luke won’t hear shit going on if he’s watching television, but he can have selected bat sonar hearing when he wants.

Somehow managing to push yourself up off the futon, after scratching Patch’s ears and assuring him that you’re okay, you waddle over to the three of them, one hand on your belly and one on your back. You’re already practicing the breathing techniques you read about a few months ago.

“Yeah,” you answer both boys. “Unless they’re learning how to pull an awesome April Fool’s Day gag.”

“They’re Munsons,” Luke says with a shrug. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

Wincing your way through a contraction, you move the hand on your belly to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do you have the hospital bag, Eds?” you ask.

“Shit,” Eddie grunts, dropping his head back. “Can one of you help her to the car while I go grab the bag?”

In true competitive brother spirit, they both insist on helping you. Nothing can be simple with them.

Ryan grabs your jacket from the closet near the front door and helps you maneuver your arms into the sleeves. Luke kneels down and helps you slip into your comfiest pair of boots. It might technically be spring outside now, but it’s still chilly these Indiana nights.

“Alright,” Eddie says as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the hospital bag slung over his shoulder. “We ready to go?”

“Yes,” you groan and turn towards the door.

But the sound of small, yet very heavy, footsteps upstairs gives you pause. They thunk down the stairs and you see a sleepy Eliza, one hand rubbing her eye, the other clutching her gold stuffed dragon Darla by the hand—or claw.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” she mutters.

Eddie steps forward to press a kiss to the top of her unruly curls.

“I’m taking Mommy to the hospital because it’s time for the babies to come.”

As he finishes his sentence, a rough contraction hits, this one feeling a little deeper. You wince and reach out to grab something to brace against. Ryan’s shoulder was the closest thing, so your fingers are curled into his pajama shirt.

Eliza watches it all, her eyes widening as she sees her mother in pain.

“Mama?” She dodges through everyone to get to you and slips her small hand into your larger one.

You do your best to smile through the pain, trying to reassure the little girl that you’re okay.

“I’m okay, sweet pea. I just get a pain in my belly to let me know the babies are coming.”

The over-tired four-year-old’s bottom lip begins to wobble. Her emotions get the better of her, and the real crying starts.

“I wanna come,” she says through her sniffles.

Eddie crouches down and presses a kiss against her forehead.

“You’re going to stay here with your brothers, okay? Ryan will tuck you in, and when you wake up in the morning, the babies should be here.”

Eliza shakes her head. “I wanna stay with Mama! Not the boys!”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Luke mumbles under his breath.

You smooth back her hair, trying to diffuse the situation without wasting precious time. The last thing you want to do is deliver two babies on the kitchen floor.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll have Daddy with me, and you know he would never let anything happen to me.”

Another contraction grips you, and you squeeze Eddie’s hand in warning. If Eliza sees how much pain you’re in, she’ll never let you go.

Luckily, Eddie receives your silent message. He crouches down in front of Eliza and offers her a reassuring smile. Fairly convincing considering the man is a bundle of nerves.

“We’ll call you guys when the babies are born, okay? Even if it’s still nighttime and you’re still asleep. How about you go pick out a movie, and your brothers will watch it with you? Patch too, I bet. How about Mulan? Or Pocahontas?”

Ryan holds out his hand, which Eliza tepidly takes. “Come on. Let’s go pick something out.”

Eddie stands up in time to see Luke raise an eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

His father leans in and whispers, “She’ll be out in less than half an hour; she just needs a distraction. Here.” Eddie hands Luke the hospital bag. “Bring this to the car, please.”

Luke dashes out to the car, drawing Eliza’s attention. She’d started to go with Ryan, but all plans for a movie are tossed out the window when she remembers that you’re leaving.

Two little arms wrap around your thighs. “Mama, I wanna go with you!”

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” You rub her back, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt. “I love you.”

Eliza sniffles but reluctantly unravels herself. “I love you too.”

Eddie leans down and gives her one last kiss before putting his hand on the small of your back, helping you into the car.

He takes off down the road at warp speed.

“How you feeling, baby?” Eddie glances over at you before returning his attention to the dark road stretched out ahead of you. Trees line both sides of the highway and the only light comes from the full moon straight above you.

One of your hands is gripping the handle on the roof, just above the car door. The other hand is splayed out on the console between you and Eddie, your nails digging into the leather.

“Pain,” you grunt out. Your legs are spread, your booted feet bracing you against the floor mats.

Eddie nods, a sigh coming out of his nose like an anxious puff of air.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he asks.

“No,” you shake your head and wince when another contraction starts.

“Do-Do you want to talk? Or do you want quiet?” Eddie just wants to make sure he can give you whatever makes you the most comfortable and at ease.

“Um.” You lick over your dry lips as you breathe through the contraction. “Quiet, I-I think.”

The drive to Hawkins Regional Hospital should only take about ten more minutes, but that feels like an eternity with the rate of intense spasms that wrack your lower body. The dull roar of the engine provides a soothing soundtrack as you close your eyes and rest your head back. You are only allowed a few brief moments of relaxation, though. A pop echoes out in the space of the car.

“What was—” Eddie goes to ask before he hears you.

“Oh boy.”

“What?” Eddie asks, trying to glance over at you, but also doing his damndest to get you both safely to the hospital as soon as possible.

A trickle of water leaks down the insides of your legs, the sound not far off from when you’re out on a walk with Patch and he lifts his back leg to relieve himself on a fire hydrant.

Now, Eddie can see the pool of water gathering on the mat between your boots. He nods his head as he slowly increases the pressure on the gas pedal.

“Good call on the no pants,” he says.

Not a minute after fluid stops leaking down your legs, you feel a shift inside you.

“Whoa.” You give a small jump as it catches you by surprise. One hand comes up to rub over your swollen belly. “Baby Number Two is squirmy right now, geez.”

Luckily, Eddie turns the car into the emergency room parking lot and pulls right up to the automatic double doors. He leaps out of the car, and rushes inside to get some help. He comes back with a small Calvary. A male and a female nurse both help you into the wheelchair they’ve brought out, and various medical team members hover by for one reason or another. You don’t have the mental energy to give a shit at the moment.

“I’m just gonna go park the car. I’ll be right back, okay baby?”

You don’t have much of a choice as an orderly forcefully pushes you through the sliding glass doors and into the main atrium. Your wet dress beneath you is unpleasant, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the contraction that strikes as you’re wheeled into the elevator.

The minutes feel like hours between the pain and not having Eddie at your side. Mentally, you try and calculate how long it will take him to find a spot, get back into the building, ask reception where you are, then make his way back to you. It’s too damn long in your opinion.

Mint green walls greet you as you’re brought into your room. The white linoleum floors that squeak under nurses’ sneakers and the distinct tang of antiseptic shout out that this is still a hospital room, no matter how nice they make everything else look.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, let’s get you all set up.”

A hospital gown has never been a more welcome sight than when you’ve been sitting in amniotic fluid for the last twenty minutes. A nurse helps you change before helping you get comfortable in the bed—or as comfortable as you can possibly be. The medical team works like a well-oiled machine as they insert your IV, slip a blood pressure cuff on your arm, a finger sensor to monitor your oxygen, and two heart rate belts around your belly—one for each twin.

Just as they’re securing the last belt into place, Eddie bursts into the room, his cheeks red and forehead dotted with sweat from exertion. With the way his breathing is labored, he looks like the one who should be hooked up to medical equipment.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out with a sigh. He dodges through the staff to get to your bedside.

You’ve always known there were going to be more medical professionals in the room this time around because it’s twins, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking because it feels more intense than when you had Eliza. On one hand, it becomes scarier because you know there are more risks associated with twin births, but on the other hand, it’s reassuring that there is more help around you.

“Eds.” You reach for his hand, and he’s quick to lace his fingers with yours. He presses a kiss to your forehead and then your knuckles. The backpack from home lands at his feet as he gives all of his attention to you.

“How you feeling, princess?”

“I’m okay.” Both of you hear the slight shake in your voice, but Eddie doesn’t comment on it.

“I heard someone ordered two babies today, huh?” Dr. Hahn smiles as she walks into your room. She gives you a playful wink as she grabs two latex gloves and slips them on. “Let’s check on the little rascals, shall we?”

Eddie tries to keep your focus on him as Dr. Hahn starts checking to see how dilated you are.

“I brought the list of names,” he tells you with a soft chuckle. “I slipped it into the backpack.”

“Good.” You nod. “Still gotta narrow some of those down.”

“Should we take bets on the sexes?” he asks.

The question brings a smile to your face, but you shake your head.

“I’ll leave the betting to the boys. As long as the babies are healthy, I’m happy.”

“The fact that it became double or nothing when they found out there are twins still brings me such joy.”

“Not necessarily,” you counter, but giggle at his words anyway. “Could be one of each. Then they both win. Or lose.”

“Who bet on what again?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up in thought.

“Ryan said girl, Luke said boy.”

“Right. And I do love how they both have the Care Bear onesie they want the other to wear already picked out.”

“Okay,” Dr. Hahn says, not giving you a chance to respond to your husband. “It shouldn’t be very long at all. Second babies always come faster and so do twins. And you’re batting two for two there.”

“Thank you, Dr,” you say.

When Eliza was born, you remember it feeling like a lifetime before you started pushing. You know this pregnancy and delivery are different than when you had your little sweet pea, but it’s hard not to compare this situation to the only comparable one you’ve ever been in before.

Dr. Hahn wasn’t kidding when she said it shouldn’t be very long. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you’ve only been in this bed for fifteen minutes before you’re told it’s time to start pushing.

Eddie is ready at your side, one of his hands holding yours and the other squeezing your shoulder in gentle encouragement. A nurse stands on your other side, also holding your hand to help brace you for the exertion of pushing.

“We’re about to push now, Mrs. Munson,” Dr. Hahn says from the foot of the bed.

You nod, any words dying on your tongue as you feel the telltale signs of a contraction beginning.

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve got this.” Eddie rubs his hand soothingly over your shoulder blade as you lean forward, garnering the momentum to get things going.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson, push!”

You grit your teeth and squeeze both Eddie’s and the nurse’s hands as you do what you’re told. The grip you have on both people at your sides has to be hurting them, but they’re both troopers and don’t so much as flinch.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie encourages.

“You’re doing great,” Dr. Hahn adds. “Keep it up.”

Keep it up? You know you have to, but your body is already exhausted. And you have a whole other baby to push out after this one. You silently decide that any woman who has delivered triplets or higher deserves a Medal of Honor. Twins are difficult enough.

“Ah, here we go. I see the head,” Dr. Hahn says.

A groan that’s a mixture of exertion and pain claws its way free on your next push.

“Almost there, princess.” Eddie holds your hand in both of his and presses kisses against your white, straining knuckles.

“Here’s the head. Alright, Mrs. Munson, we’re going to do one more really big push, okay?”

“Okay,” you squeak out through clenched teeth.

“Big push on three, okay? One, two, three.”

A strangled scream gets caught in your throat as you put all of your effort into getting this baby out of you.

“There we go, good job,” Dr. Hahn praises. “Almost there, almost there…”

A shrill cry fills the room, and you fall back against your pillows, drenched in sweat and breathing like you just finished running a 5k. But you smile. It’s impossible not to with that beautiful noise coming from your newest child.

“It’s a boy!” Dr. Hahn announces. The nurses wipe down your son—your son—as the doctor turns to Eddie. “Cutting the cord?”

“Of course.” Eddie carefully snips the cord where Dr. Hahn instructs, though he probably memorized the procedure. After all, this is his fourth kid.

Dr. Hahn checks the position of the other baby before placing your wailing son on your chest. “Take a moment before the next baby arrives,” she says gently.

You press a kiss to the baby’s scalp. He’s so perfect, so little and sweet. Even his cries are adorable. One tiny fist rests just above your breast as he soothes himself to your heartbeat.

“Another boy,” Eddie muses. “We have three sons now.”

“Eliza is not going to be thrilled if there’s a fourth,” you say, though you know your daughter will probably claim the babies as her own, regardless of their genders.

Eddie kisses your forehead. “I can’t believe this. I…” he swallows the emotion choking his throat. “…I love him so much already.”

“Me, too.” You smile, glancing down at the baby once again. Tears blur your vision. “Hi, sweet boy. I’m your mommy. Aw, I know, I know. It’s bright here on the outside.”

Eddie leans in, tears leaking out as he beams at his new son. “Hi, pal! We got another Munson man here to drive Mommy and Eliza crazy, huh? Welcome to the team.”

Dr. Hahn clears her throat kindly. “Baby B can arrive any time in the next five to thirty minutes,” she explains. “When you feel the urge to push, tell us.”

You nod, barely paying attention to her directions. You’re too in love with the little boy pressed to your heart. After a few minutes of cooing over him, a nurse offers to take the baby to be cleaned and get his vitals taken.

After both of you keep your eyes glued to your new son as he’s being assessed, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks.

You tilt your head up and gaze at him with a sleepy smile.

“Exhausted. But so happy,” you tell him. “The contractions don’t feel as painful anymore.”

“That’s better. Now you’re all snuggled up.” A nurse smiles down at your son as she carries him in your direction. “Do you want to see your Daddy? He’s been waiting a long time to meet you.”

“He is absolutely worth the wait,” Eddie says as he accepts the baby. Pure pride gleams in your husband’s eyes as he takes in all the details of your son. The little button nose that scrunches just a bit whenever anyone makes too loud of a noise. The already-dark eyelashes that flutter against the apples of his rosy cheeks. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie takes a few steps closer to your bed and sits on the edge, twisting so you can see both him and the baby. The sight of your husband holding your baby boy brings tears to your eyes, which you quickly wipe away. Nothing is going to obscure your vision while you’re admiring your boys—not even tears.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach out and run your index finger over the small knuckles that are clenched into fists. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Just like his mom,” Eddie says.

With a bashful smile, you hide your face against the sleeve of Eddie’s t-shirt.

“Any names in mind?” Dr. Hahn looks up at you from where she’s reading over a chart. She gives you a smile when your eyes meet.

“We have a handful of names,” you say, gaze turning back on your son. “We didn’t know the sexes beforehand, so we had to come up with a little collection to consider.”

“Smart,” Dr. Hahn says with a nod. “A lot of people who don’t find out the sex beforehand find unisex names.”

“We’ve got a few of those on the list,” Eddie confirms.

To you, it feels like you’ve been holding your newborn for mere minutes, but your husband has been glancing at the clock every so often, his pulse speeding up every time you get closer to the thirty-minute mark Dr. Hahn mentioned. He notices you haven’t winced or appeared in pain from contractions during this time either. The last thing he wants to do is worry you as well, so he keeps quiet but keeps tabs on the medical team in the room, trusting they have control of everything.

The moment the clock strikes thirty-one minutes past the first birth, a nurse comes over and gives you a kind smile.

“Okay, Mom, we’re going to start focusing on the next birth now. I’ll keep your little boy safe and sound over here in his cozy bassinet.”

Reluctantly, you watch her take the little bundle and Eddie stands up from the edge of the bed. The nurse rolls the bassinet right on the other side of Eddie, so your husband is between you and the baby.

Dr. Hahn walks over to the other side of your bed and tilts her head as she looks at you.

“I notice we’ve had contractions slowing down,” she says. “That happens sometimes, but we want to make sure we get them going again. I just sent for some Pitocin, which will kick them back into gear. Just hang tight for a few, and then we’ll get your other bundle of joy out here for you to hold.”

Eddie nods at the doctor, too nervous to thank her aloud. He doesn’t want to risk you hearing any trepidation or warble in his tone. You heard the doc, he says to himself. This happens sometimes.

He releases a sigh of relief when the medication arrives only two minutes later. A nurse injects it into your IV line, and all Eddie can do is stare at the clock again. Next to him, your son begins to cry, so Eddie bends over him and gently strokes his beanie-clad head.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “I know, you miss Mommy, huh?”

A little hand reaches up towards the sky, and Eddie slips his forefinger into the tiny grasp. He chuckles at how tight of a grip the tiny man has on him.

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a contraction coming,” Dr. Hahn says, looking at the monitor near your head.

“Ah, shit,” you groan as a familiar wave of pain crashes over your body.

Eddie is torn between the attention of the baby and wanting to hold your hand for support. Luckily, the bed and the bassinet are close enough that he’s able to hold both of your hands at once. Another glance at the clock tells him you’re closing in on forty minutes since the last birth. His heart hammers in his chest, the nerves right on the tipping point of becoming true fear.

At minute forty-five, Dr. Hahn takes up her position at the foot of the bed again.

“Okay, Mrs. Munson. It’s time to start pushing again.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie encourages. “You got this.”

You nod at him before taking a deep breath, mentally psyching yourself up for another round.

The pushing starts off just as it did last time. But after already doing this once and having the intensity and pain of the contractions come back within a matter of minutes, you find yourself overwhelmed. You wish for the moment you had not ten minutes ago, holding your son with your husband by your side. All smiles and excitement. The stabbing pain reminds you that that moment isn’t here anymore. Suddenly, the lights in the room feel hotter. The beeping of machinery sounds louder. All senses have been dialed up to eleven, as if the medication they gave you not only kicked the contractions into gear, but every other function of your body as well.

As attuned to you as always, Eddie gives your hand a squeeze of encouragement. That small act of affection is enough to give you the strength for another push.

“Okay, we’ve got the head,” Dr. Hahn says.

“Agh!”

Eddie’s brow instantly furrows. This is the third time he’s seen you give birth, and you’ve never made that exclamation of pain before.

“What?” he asks urgently.

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder and calls to the medical team, “We have a shoulder dystocia.”

“A what?” Eddie asks.

“What’s wrong?” you pant out through labored breaths, face still pinched in pain.

Dr. Hahn turns back towards you while one nurse steps out of the room, and two others come closer to the bed.

“Your baby’s shoulders are stuck, Mrs. Munson. We’re going to help them out now.” She turns to the nurses approaching the bed. “Let’s get her into McRoberts.”

Eddie’s stomach falls through the floor. Your baby is stuck? A shoulder what? Dystocia? What the hell is that? And what is McRoberts?

“Stuck?” is all Eddie manages to squeak out.

Dr. Hahn nods as the first nurse returns with, what looks like, other doctors. That can’t be a good sign, Eddie decides.

“Stuck on the pelvic bone,” Dr. Hahn says. “Mrs. Munson, we’re going to try and get you into a different position to see if that helps.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small, a punch to Eddie’s gut.

“Mr. Munson, could you just step back a little bit? Nurse Jennifer needs to get in on that side.”

The moment Eddie’s hand lets go of yours, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The urge to push back in and wrap you up in his embrace is strong, but the logical part of his brain tells him he needs to stay out of the way and let the medical professionals do their job. The emotional part wants to kick that logical part’s ass though.

“Mrs. Munson, Nurse Jennifer is going to work on that leg, pushing your knee up toward your chest, and Nurse Peter is going to do it with this leg. Don’t push while they do this, okay? Just breathe. Here we go.”

Eddie watches as each nurse takes one of your legs and hikes them up towards your head. He bounces from foot to foot, his hands coming up to rub over his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere to expel some of that nervous energy. Every terrifying thought flashes through his mind. What if I lose her? What if we lose the baby? What if I lose them both? His entire world hangs in the balance and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. He’s never felt so helpless in his entire life. There’s quite literally nothing he can do but stand there and watch it all happen.

A deep breath doesn’t do much to calm Eddie, but it helps enough for him to take a moment to lean down and whisper to your new son, “Use some of that twin telepathy, okay? You’re both Munsons and Munsons are strong. And no one is stronger than your Mama.”

It’s hard for Eddie to see you as Nurse Jennifer stands closer to your head now, holding your leg up at this new angle. Your husband looks up and sees the other medical staff hovering, which, in theory, should be comforting, but it just adds to the stress and fear he’s drowning in.

“Is the baby okay?” your strained voice asks.

“The baby is fine,” Dr. Hahn assures you—assures you both. “We’re just going to have to work a little harder, that’s all. Now, big push for me, okay?”

Your pained moans make Eddie’s heart ache. Nurse Jennifer steps slightly closer to your head, so Eddie takes advantage of the open spot between her and the foot of the bed. He’s standing just above where your pelvis is and he takes in every little detail of you, scanning for any and all possible issues. Your head flops back against the pillow and weakly tumbles to the side.

“Why don’t you try talking to her?”

Eddie looks up to see that Nurse Peter is talking to him. The nurse nods his head towards your struggling form on the bed.

“Encourage her, keep her focused,” he says.

For the first time in his life, your husband doesn’t know what to say.

Eddie nods and licks over his lips. For some reason, he wipes his sweaty palms on the sides of his jeans. He mentally wonders what the hell he’s doing as he thinks about everything that you mean to him. His mouth opens and he just goes with it, becoming a pure stream of consciousness.

“You’re so goddamn strong, Sweetheart. You pushed out one baby and now you’re about to push out another. Even with all of these tubes and needles and beeping things, you’re doing it. I could never do it. I mean, not just because I’m missing the, uh, parts—”

“Eddie,” you choke out as another bead of sweat slides down the side of your face.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Shut up about your ‘parts,’” you choke out with a terse huff of laughter.

Eddie shakes his head before continuing.

“You got this. You’re gonna push out this baby and our little family—well, not that little—will be complete. All because of you. Just keep going, okay? I’m right here.”

“Good, good, we’re making progress,” Dr. Hahn says. “Baby is coming out now. Mr. Munson, do you want to watch?”

If she had asked with the first baby, he probably would have said yes. But with all the adrenaline and emotion coursing through his body right now? He is not up to the task.

“I think I’m gonna stay in this region over here,” he motions around your head and upper body area.

“We’re almost there. Keep pushing, Mama, you’re doing great.”

“You’ve got this, princess,” Eddie adds. “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“There we go!” Dr. Hahn says. “She’s here.”

“She?” you ask, pain and weariness falling to the background now that your second baby is finally out. Tears stream rivulets down your face, but you refuse to let them keep you from speaking.

“She,” your doctor affirms with a nod. “It’s a girl.”

“Is she okay?” Eddie asks.

Dr. Hahn looks over her shoulder at where the newly-brought-in medical staff is.

“Neonatal—check for distress.”

A man in scrubs takes the baby from Dr. Hahn and brings her over to where her brother’s vitals were taken. You feel like you’re holding your breath, though.

The nurses who held your legs gently release them back down and step out of the way so Eddie can get to you properly. He immediately cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Both of you have ragged breaths so he doesn’t hold the kiss for long. But once he pulls away, he’s kissing every part of you he can get his mouth on. Your face and hair are both drenched in sweat, but Eddie could not care less. You’re here and you’re safe and Eddie feels like he could collapse in your arms.

It’s quiet in the room though. The machines are still beeping. Sneakers still squeak against the linoleum. But it’s too quiet and it steals the breath from your chest. Oxygen is sucked out of the room and time seems to stop as your muscles lock and you freeze completely still. A very vital sound is missing.

A few deep inhales followed by a piercing cry cause you to fall apart. She’s breathing. Your baby is breathing and crying. Sobs wrack your body, and you lean into Eddie’s touch. He gently cradles your head as you wrap your arms tight as a vice around his waist.

“She’s okay,” you say to yourself between sniffles.

“You’re both okay,” Eddie responds.

A few drops of water fall onto your forehead. You look up to see Eddie crying almost as hard as you are. Seeing the raw emotion pouring out of him tugs at your already sensitive heart. Your face crumples, and you fall into another round of sobs as you bury your face against his shirt.

Both you and Eddie get the worst of your emotions out before you try to compose one another. By the time you do that, your little girl has been checked over and cleared. Nurse Jennifer walks over with your youngest baby, all bundled up in a white blanket dotted with pale yellow and green polka dots. A small pink cap is situated on her tiny head, and you couldn’t be smiling any wider as you accept her from the nurse.

Every emotion and every hormone are surging through your body right now. The adrenaline crash has left you worn out and weak. But the moment you hold that baby girl, none of it matters.

When you look down at her, you see that your daughter is looking right back at you. A brighter grin than you would’ve thought possible to muster lights up your face. Slitted eyes take in your face almost as much as you’re taking in hers.

“There you are, gorgeous.” Your words are soft and as gentle as the newborns’ skin.

Eddie wipes at his eyes and leans against the side of the bed. His head tilts to the side while he takes all of her in. The pink puckered lips. The sparse eyebrows that already twitch as if she’s displaying all of her emotions through them. She has him wrapped around her finger already.

“Hi, little angel,” Eddie says. “You’re already trying to upstage your brother, huh?”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh boy. Are we gonna have two dramatic little girls on our hands?”

You lean down and press a kiss to her smooth, unblemished forehead. The last thing you want to do is take your lips off of her, but you know Eddie is itching to hold her.

Gently and carefully, you transfer your baby to her father.

Once she’s in his arms, he does his damndest not to cry. To no one’s surprise, it doesn’t work very well. The memory of always wanting a baby girl when he was younger comes rushing back to him. Something in him always knew he was meant to be a boy dad and a girl dad, and he was just waiting for the opportunity for the second one to come along. And now here he is. The father to two daughters. Three boys and two little girls with the woman of his dreams.

A faint beeping is the first thing you register. A phone? No. A smoke detector? No. Oh shit, that’s the monitor you’re hooked up to.

Slowly, your eyes blink open only to be assaulted by the bright fluorescent light directly above you. You squint and shield your eyes as they adjust.

A deep soreness permeates most of your body, but you feel rested and refreshed after getting some sleep. Eddie could see how tired you were and was eventually able to talk you into a nap. Something you assumed he would also take. But when you look towards the window, you see your husband sitting in an armchair, completely bleary-eyed, as he holds one of your babies. The baby is asleep though, so that’s something, you suppose.

“Eds?” you call, voice a hair above a whisper. “Did you get any sleep?”

A tired smile graces his lips as he shakes his head. Gently, he stands up and lays the baby (who you can now see is your daughter) in her bassinet right next to her brother’s.

Eddie goes to take a seat on the edge of your bed, but you carefully move over so there’s enough room for him to properly sit next to you, side by side.

“I called the kids,” Eddie says as he situates himself.

“Were they awake?” You look up at him and let out a large yawn. “Wait, what time is it now? What time did I even give birth?”

Eddie delicately wraps his arms around your shoulders to tuck you into his side.

“It’s almost 3 am now. I called around two, and the boys were still awake. Eliza fell asleep around half an hour after we left. The boys asked if the twins are girls or boys, but I told them they’d have to wait to see until they can meet them in the morning.”

You let out a sleepy chuckle as you let your head rest against your husband’s shoulder.

“Gonna keep the suspense on that bet going for as long as possible, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a grin. “And Baby Boy Munson was born at 12:28 and Baby Girl Munson was born at 1:26.”

Though he doesn’t say anything else, you’ve known Eddie long enough to know that he wants to. His lips keep moving, as if he’s trying to psych them up to form words. You’re not going to pressure him, though. You give him time to gather his thoughts. It only takes a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, I…” he trails off and tears fill his eyes. “I was so fucking scared before. First, the baby is late, and your contractions went down. Then she gets stuck on the way out. Babe, every horrible scenario was running through my head. I was terrified I was going to lose you and a baby at the same time.” He sniffles and shakes his head, a hauntingly devastated look in his eyes. “Even if we hadn’t already decided that we’re not going to have any more kids, this would’ve convinced me. I can’t bear thinking about that, or something worse, happening again.”

“Oh, Eddie…” You slowly reach up and cup Eddie’s face in your hands. One thumb traces along his cheek bone. “It was scary. All I kept thinking was that I need her to be safe.”

“What about you?” Eddie asks.

You take one hand off of Eddie’s face and wave it dismissively in the air. He gives you a reproachful look before you speak.

“I wasn’t thinking of me. Just that little baby who’s been with me for nine months. She was all that mattered in that moment. And Eddie?” You do your best to sit up a little straighter so you can look him in the eye. “If we hadn’t decided to not have any more kids, I’d have so many more of your babies. This didn’t deter me at all. It was a scary few moments, but now we have the rest of our lives with these little miracles. I’ll take that trade any day.”

Eddie sighs. He knows it would be a moot point to argue with you. Though you might not be a Munson by blood, just the name is enough for you to be considered stubborn and hard-headed. Nothing he could say would get you to put the importance of your own safety on the same level as your baby’s. But he knows if the roles were reversed, he would be the same way. You know it too and would absolutely wield that against him in a debate. The thought makes Eddie chuckle softly. He loves how he knows you so well, and how stubborn you can be—though he’s careful to never admit that out loud.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he mutters.

“I love you, too.”

Eddie shifts carefully, handling you like you’re as fragile as porcelain. Part of you wants to tell him to cut it out, but the amount of pain you’re in makes it hard to argue with his gentle demeanor. His moves are slow and intentional as he cups the back of your head and presses a light kiss against your lips. Now this, you won’t stand for. Your hand that doesn’t have the IV needle stuck in it curls around your husband’s neck, and you force more pressure into the kiss.

You feel his chuckle rumble against your lips.

“You’re so difficult, you know that?” he mumbles once he pulls away.

“So I’ve been told.”

Despite how he shakes his head in bemusement, there’s a smile on Eddie’s lips as he pulls you against his chest. You happily mold against him, contorting to lay your head against his shoulder. From how you’re both positioned, you have a perfect view of both babies snoozing away in their bassinets. The two of you stay silent, enraptured in watching the newest members of your family. Each of them has a pacifier in their mouth, but your son’s moves up and down faster, his suckling more insistent in his sleep. Your daughter moves more in her sleep, though. Her little arms move in small circles, reminiscent of rowing a baby-sized boat.

Eventually, you break the silence in a hushed voice.

“I guess we should finalize those names, huh? Unless we want to stick with ‘Baby Boy’ and ‘Baby Girl’ Munson.”

“Those do have a nice ring to them.”

Moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him, Eddie reaches out and pulls your little boy’s bassinet closer to the bed. It allows you both to see his face better.

“Well,” you say with a sigh, “since you won’t let me name him Edward after his dashing father…”

“Hey,” Eddie argues, “I agreed to it as a middle name. And I still think Charles would be funny.”

Narrowing your eyes, you lift your head to stare down your husband.

“Charles Munson? With us, his Munson family?”

Eddie laughs softly, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just kidding, you know that.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m strictly against naming our children after murderous cult leaders.”

“What about cult leaders that didn’t commit murder?” you question.

“Those I’ll consider.”

You huff a laugh, half fueled by exhaustion, as you nuzzle your face against Eddie’s t-shirt. A large, warm hand rubs up and down your back in a soothing manner.

“Out of the few boy names we narrowed it down to, which do you think fits him the most?” he asks.

You turn your head to look back at your newborn son. A couple of the names on the list automatically are scratched off the list in your mind; they just aren’t him. Next, your brain scrolls through the unisex names you can recall.

“He looks like Hayden to me,” you finally say.

Eddie grins and looks down at you. “I was just thinking the same thing. Hayden Edward Munson.”

“H.E.M.”

“Sounds like a good name for a band, those initials,” Eddie comments. “Alright. It’s your sister’s turn, Hayden.”

Eddie gingerly pushes Hayden’s bassinet back to where it was and pulls your daughter’s forward. Once she’s in the position her brother just held, Eddie hums as he rests his head against yours. Most of the names the two of you had on your list were for girls, so this task is going to take a little more time and deduction.

“Wanna try out a few?” Eddie asks. “See how they feel?”

You nod and pick your head up to address the bundled-up baby.

“Hi, Chloe.”

Immediately, your nose wrinkles up and you shake your head, Eddie shaking his as well. It doesn’t suit her.

“What about Dianna?” Eddie asks. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Nah, don’t think so. Amy?”

As if voicing her own opinion, your baby girl starts to whine. She squirms around more than she did in her sleep and lets the pacifier fall out of her mouth. Her little lungs inhale a few breaths, and Eddie carefully slips out from underneath you to scoop her up before she can start properly crying.

“Okay, okay, not Amy,” Eddie says as he picks her up. He sways back and forth next to your bed, gently bouncing the little bundle.

“Her least favorite March sister, I guess,” you joke.

“Well, duh,” Eddie says with a scoff. “She stole Laurie from Jo.”

“No, that’s not…” You smile to yourself and give a slight shake of your head. “That’s a topic for another time.”

A nasally “wah” rings out of your daughter, Eddie’s preemptive strike not enough to keep her from crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie frowns and tries bouncing her with a little more fervor. “Do you want your mommy? She’s right here. It’s okay.”

Eddie gives you a few moments to situate yourself on the bed, readying to accept the baby from him. You hold your arms out and he delicately transfers her.

The moment she’s in your arms, her name strikes you. It’s as if the moment you had contact with her, she spoke to you, telling you what you’ve always been meant to call her.

“You’re Scarlett, aren’t you?” You grin down at her.

Immediately, her cries cease. She turns her small head and nuzzles her little button nose against your arm.

Eddie watches, an adoring smile on his face. He cautiously sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” he says. “Hello, my little Scarlett. You almost gave Daddy a heart attack today, you know that?”

“No offense,” you say, quirking an eyebrow up at your husband, “but I think she put my body through more than yours today.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth kicks up in a smile as he nods his head in agreement.

“What about a middle name?” he asks.

“Can I see the list?” you ask.

The backpack had been kicked halfway under the bed during the course of events this evening, so Eddie bends at the waist to retrieve it. He slips the worn paper out from the front pouch and holds it up for both of you to look over. Your eyes scan down the numerous names, some scratched out or spellings changed over these past nine months.

“How about Aurora?” you suggest.

“Scarlett Aurora Munson. Sounds pretty damn beautiful to me.”

Already as dramatic as his father it seems, Hayden begins to fuss about not being part of the conversation.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie says as he picks Hayden up. He cradles the baby to his chest and lightly boops the tip of his nose. “So does Hayden Edward Munson.”

You watch in adoration as Hayden settles down. Your husband holds him with such tenderness and care. A look back down at your daughter shows she’s drifted off to sleep again. A warmth bubbles up from your stomach, settling in your chest.

“I can’t believe we’re the parents of twins,” you say in breathless wonder.

Eddie steps closer as he sways back and forth.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m a parent.”

Light as a feather, so as not to disturb her, you run your finger over Scarlett’s tiny knuckles. It doesn’t matter that you’ve held countless babies before, it still astonishes you how small they truly are when they start out. Eliza was once this little. So were Luke and Ryan, even if you didn’t know them then.

“You guys are going to love it here,” you tell the twins. “You have the best big brothers and big sister.”

“Who can’t wait to meet you,” Eddie adds. “And there’s a crazy dog named Patch. He’s a good boy.”

“And your room looks just like you’ve walked into the Hundred Acre Woods.”

“Or, if we carried you in there,” Eddie says. “Since you guys can’t walk yet.”

“There’s Pooh Bear and Piglet and Tigger and Rabbit,” you go on. “All the cool ones.”

“And it won’t be long until your sister introduces you to the princesses. I give it less than twenty-four hours, honestly.”

You chuckle, knowing your husband is absolutely correct. A mental image of Eliza bringing out the little chalkboard that’s in her room tickles you. You can picture her setting it up in front of the twins while they rock back and forth in their swings. She would give them a thorough education, that’s for sure.

“You two have so many people who already love you so, so much,” you tell the babies. “Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins to play with. And the coolest grandpa.”

“And you have me and Mommy,” Eddie adds. “And I’ll tell you a secret…we love you guys more than any of those other people do.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod in agreement.

“We’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to the world.”

“It’s not always great,” Eddie says, “but you’re always going to have your family behind you when things get tough. Cause Munsons stick together.”

Scarlett smacks her lips together and turns her face up in your direction. You carefully lean down and press a kiss on her forehead.

“You made our family complete, guys. And we’re so happy that you did. Our little Hayden and Scarlett.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie Munson fan fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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guywhowatches · 4 months ago

Text

You opened the door into the kitchen and turned around to quickly close it. You then turned back around, only for a horrifying sight to meet your eyes. Your stepdad was sitting on a stool at the table, with his jeans pulled down and pants riding up him, exposing his hairy, musky ass. He appeared to be eating something rather loudly. The sight revolted you and made you want to scarper before he discovered you were in the room.

You'd never liked your stepdad, from the day you first properly met him, he was always so cruel to you. He would regularly visit the gym and workout, meaning he constantly stank of sweat. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was, because of his gym diet, he would often rip the most revolting farts imaginable. And worse, he'd always seemed to do them around you deliberately and laugh as you would cough and gag on the stench. He always said it was the stink of a 'real man' and that you should get used to it, or that you were 'weak and pathetic'. So of course, you didn't want to be noticed by him.

Frrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaapppppppppppppp!

Just as you were thinking this over, a loud fart boomed out across the room. You jumped in shock as you looked over at the obvious source of the noise. Your stepdad just sighed and chuckled heartily, before going back to eating. You had to get out of the way before the smell hit you.

Maybe you could try hiding in the bathroom, as the entrance to it was right near and it was slightly ajar, meaning it wouldn't make a sound. You crept over to it, and began to open it when you suddenly lurched and gagged loudly. The second the door was fully opened you were hit with a combined smell of eggs and shit. It was unbearable and you leaned over coughing loudly as the stink burned your nose. Unfortunately, this loud reaction drew the attention of a certain someone.

"Ha, I wouldn't go in there if I had a weak nose like yours boy. Those eggs and protein shakes just went right through me this morning." Your stepdad said, looking back at you smiling meanly. You couldn't believe that. How did it still stink of his morning dump, when it was nearly the evening?

"But I guess that's hard for you, being so pathetic and all." He now got up from his seat and made his way over to you, still grinning menacingly. You wanted to try and run away, but your mind was still boggled by the smell from the bathroom and wasn't allowing you to kick into action.

"I nearly expected better from you, but honestly I couldn't even do that. Seems like you need a reminder of who's in charge here." And then, before you could make a run for it, he grabbed by the back of the neck and forced you into position. You couldn't move at all, with the strong grip he had on you.

Then, to your continued horror, he turned around facing away from you and pulled down his pants, his ass now fully on display. It came as no shock to you that it absolutely reeked. It smelt like he hadn't even properly wiped after his previous toilet usage. It was too repulsive for you.

"Let's see if you can survive the smell my lunch burrito coming out the other end." That explains what he was eating. And, before you could object, he grunted loudly.

FFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPTTTT

BBBBBBRRRRRAFFFFFFFFFFFFFFPPPPPPPPPTTTTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPTTTT

The slew of farts blasted against your face with no protection between you and his colossal ass. The stink was unbearable and you felt like were going to pass out. Your stepdad just looked down and laughed at you.

"Are you giving up already? That's just sad. I've ripped worse ones at the gym. Yet you can't handle a few measly puffs? Well, perhaps this'll set you straight." He then grunted again, much to your demise.

BBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTRRRRRPPPPPPP

FFFFFFFRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTT

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFF

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAMMMMMMMPPPPPTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT

He was truly was a gasbag that seemed to have a never ending supply, that would always be used to torment you. You couldn't handle it any more, as your brain began to shut down due to no clean oxygen in the room anymore.

You then felt him let go of you, as you passed out onto the floor. As your eyes were closing, the last thing you saw was your stepdad bending over you.

"And don't you ever forget who's in charge around here." He said, grinning at you wickedly. You couldn't keep dealing with this, you had to move out soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Credit to @beefybunzz for the pic.

Hope you guys enjoy

#eproctophilia #Fart #fart caption #male farts #male domination #fart story #fart fiction #farting #face farts #ass sniffing #Musky ass #step father

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ouran1a · 4 months ago

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sucking Jerry off while he whines and whimpers his way through explaining dnd to me but he just ends up yanking my head up and down his cock HEHEHAHSHHAHAHA

rating: R for slutty ass blowjob scene

also i wrote the words “dick and balls” and immediately thought of the south park ‘dickin balls’ or wtv and bursted out laughing at work <3

“a-and so the…uh-ngh-“

Jerry felt like he was going fucking insane. his face was too hot, his hands were embarrassingly clammy, gut churning, throat burning as he forced down his pathetic little mewls and whines, it was too much.

you were too much.

you’d called him up a few hours ago begging him to show you how to create your Dungeons and Dragons character since Bill was being, in your words, “a goddamned fart-sucker”, and being the good friend he was, he agreed to help. Jerry thought of himself as the most normal around chicks, he was a nervous wreck, sure, but he didn’t insult them like Bill or stare like Josh or perv on them (outwardly) like Pete, he held normal conversations and exchanged greetings, just an average dude having average interactions with average females.

but this wasn’t average, there wasn’t a fucking average way to suck your friend’s dick, there wasn’t an average way to claw down his stomach and hips and thighs and leave angry red lines, not a fucking thing was average about the look you were giving him or the soft ‘gluck! gluck! gluck!’ noises that made his head spin. Jerry’s mouth fell open, slack-jawed as he gently, almost nervously, cradled your face, bony fingers starting to pull you in deeper as his bonier hips twitched and jumped your face.

god, he’d felt like such a fucking pervert when your first got here, sweats hung low and loose on your hips, that tiny little sliver of your tummy and your tits practically hanging out of your stupidly slutty take top, Jerry had so selfishly wanted to rip it off you and slam you down onto his bed, muffling your moans with his Totoro plushy you’d gotten him while nose deep in your puffy cunt. Instead, however, he’d simply smiled sweetly like he always did, hand up in Vulcan salute while you both plopped down on his bed—

“fuck—“ Jerry rasped when you slid your head back to his tip and prodded at his dick hole with your tongue. A long, pathetically whiny groan slipped from his wobbly lips as you slid right back down, trying to force himself to meet your intense stare. You’d been looking at him like that all fucking night, pupils blown wide and smile downright evil. he felt his dick twitch as one of your soft hands came up to cradle his balls, “o-oh my fucking god—“ he cringed at the sound of his voice; raw and needy.

you smiled and pulled off his cock with a dull ‘pop!’, laughing as he strained to not yank your pretty face back down and suffocate you agaisnt the mess of blonde pubes he sported, “you never finished your sentence, Jer,” oh, fuck right off. Jerry felt a hot flash of annoyance thrum alongside the aching pleasure shooting down his spine at the shit-eating grin plastered on those spit-shiny lips, his big hands clenched in your hair, two messy handfuls of your locks between his fingers, “c-can’t r’member,” he huffed. he watched you laughed again at his pouty face and yanked your face back down to his crotch, “…please— fuck I-I’m so close babe,” he let the pet name slip out, a boyish fluttering of his heart following the sound.

you smiled, a warm one this time, and pressed a sweet kiss to the junction of his dick and balls that made his heart and cock tug. your soft hands stroked him slowly, a tight fist giving him just enough pressure to feel the breathe get knocked outta him when you paired it with sucking and kissing his balls. Jerry felt his gut twist, his muscles clenched and he doubled over you, hands cradling your head as close to his cock as he could, “o-oh— shit- fuck- f-fuck shit—“ he rambled, thighs quivering when you wrapped those lips around his tip again and sucked hard.

Jerry’s hips pumped up and down, dragging his cock in and out of your head while he held you steady by the hair, gathering up your silky locks in one hand while the other wrapped around your neck. he moaned louder when his thumb pressed down and he felt his dick sliding down, felt your throat tense and go lax as you got used to his quick tempo. Jerry’s hands both flexed as he got closer, choking you just a bit and pulling your hair just a smidge too tight, “I-I’monna c-shit! O-ohmyfuckinggod I’m gonna cum- r-right down your fucking throat,”

you got no other warning when both hands yanked you down to the very base of his cock, nose smushed against his pelvis while his spunk shot out and flooded your throat. Jerry was unabashed at this point, loud moans and throaty sighs as he held you in place, his entire body shaking while his cock shot spurt after spurt out. you gagged on the suffocating feeling and he gasped softly, eyes rolling back at the feeling and hips grinding into your face.

he was so lost in the pleasure that it took you slapping his sensitive hips covered in your nails marks before he slowly slid your head off his dick. you swallowed what you could, gasping and coughing as he just sat above you, staring down with what you can only describe as ‘awestruck’ while you struggled to catch your breathe.

after a few second of silence, both of you heaving and gasping for air, he spoke up first,

“…you’d uh.. you’d probably work best as a mage.”

#i cannot stop thinking abt jerry while at work this is INSANITY.#‘i cast viagralia’ ‘dude what?’#then he’s rock hard eheh #eltingville smut #eltingville x reader #welcome to eltingville #eltingville club x reader #x fat reader #jerry stokes #jerry stokes x reader #[rated R]#[starring: Jerry Stokes]

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dinodaweeb · 1 month ago

Text

Tremors Of Your Laughter

Zhongli x Gn!Reader

A/n: i do take requests. and yes im finally trying to be active on here. And yes i am very ashamed of my oneshots plz shut up.

Summary: tea time with Zhongli goes wrong. Also, you discover Zhongli isn’t immune to your jokes.

Liyue Harbor, mid-afternoon. The sun filters through the wooden slats of Third-Round Knockout’s upper balcony, casting soft stripes of gold across the lacquered table. Zhongli sits poised, as always, posture perfect, sipping tea like it’s a sacred rite. You’re halfway through your second meat bun and a story that’s just starting to hit its stride.

“So then—get this—he actually thinks cryo slimes can cool down soup, like some kind of freezer pack—”

Zhongli raises a brow. “That is… ill-advised.”

“Right? But instead of stopping him, I just watched. I wanted to see how long it would take before it exploded. He was covered in soup and frozen carrot chunks—looked like a tragic hot pot.”

You grin. Zhongli doesn’t laugh—he never laughs—but he exhales through his nose, which is basically a full-blown giggle in his language.

You push forward, emboldened. “And the best part? He still tried to eat it. Said it was ‘salvageable.’”

Zhongli opens his mouth to comment—but you cut in with a dramatic impression: “‘It’s got texture now. Character.’ Like, sir, it has cryo trauma.”

That does it.

It starts with a small sound. A hiccup of a chuckle that escapes him like it wasn’t meant to be heard. His shoulders jolt, and then—

He loses it.

Zhongli, the Geo Archon, the unshakeable pillar of Liyue, lets out a laugh so loud and abrupt it sends a flock of pigeons scattering from the rooftop. His hand slams the table hard enough to rattle the teacups, and his laugh wheezes as he tries to breathe around it.

“Cryo trauma,” he repeats, like it’s the most profound phrase in all seven nations.

You freeze.

Because he’s not just chuckling—he’s in shambles.

Zhongli is full-on slapping his knee, bent forward so far he’s nearly under the table. His long hair is in disarray, his chest heaving with each gasping breath. He tries to sit up and ends up banging his elbow on the edge of the table, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, half in awe, half in terror.

The waitress stops mid-step, eyes wide. One of the hanging lanterns above begins to flicker ominously.

Zhongli lifts a hand as if to regain composure, but the moment he makes eye contact with you, it’s over.

A sound escapes him—a strange, wild noise—and then: PFFFFT.

A small, traitorous fart slips out.

Silence.

You blink.

He stares at you.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog howls.

And then—crack—your teacup splits down the middle as if reality itself can’t take it.

Zhongli falls out of his chair.

He’s on the ground, laughing so hard he’s tearing up, one hand clutching his side, the other waving feebly in the air. His laughter echoes off the wooden walls like a storm in the harbor.

“Oh—oh dear—heavens—by Morax—” he gasps, voice pitching higher than you’ve ever heard it.

You kneel beside him, unsure whether to help or just watch. His face is red, flushed in a way that looks completely foreign on him.

“Zhongli, are you—?”

“I’m—I’m compromised,” he wheezes.

You choke on a laugh. “You farted.”

“I am ancient,” he manages, “not infallible.”

At that, you absolutely lose it too.

For a solid two minutes, the both of you lie there on the floor of Third-Round Knockout, cackling like idiots. Customers whisper. The waitress hides behind the counter. A small child tugs at their mother’s sleeve and points at the strange, beautiful man on the floor who just made a rude noise.

Finally, Zhongli exhales long and slow. It’s the kind of breath that comes after a catharsis, like tectonic plates settling after an earthquake.

He blinks at the ceiling.

“I didn’t know you were so funny,” he murmurs.

You grin, cheek on the cool wood. “I didn’t know you could smile without looking like a historical statue.”

That earns a final, helpless chuckle from him. He sits up slowly, adjusting his robes, though his hair’s still a mess and his dignity has long since evaporated.

“I believe,” he says, voice still slightly breathless, “that I have embarrassed myself beyond the reach of redemption.”

You pat his shoulder. “No take-backs. You laughed, you farted, you shattered my teacup with joy. It’s canon now.”

He rubs his temple with a groan. “Please don’t tell Childe.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely telling Childe.”

The look he gives you could petrify a mitachurl.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

He squints. “Then I will be forced to recount your entire sweet flower wine incident to Ningguang in excruciating detail.”

You pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Silence.

You both stare at each other. A truce forms in the air like gathering clouds.

“…Deal?” you offer.

“Deal.”

You both finally rise. Zhongli brushes off his robes, the picture of composure again—except for the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Not his usual solemn, gentle curve. This one is crooked. Soft. Human.

As you both sit back down, the waitress cautiously brings over a new teacup, eyeing Zhongli like he might explode again.

He accepts it with a gracious nod. “My apologies for the disturbance.”

She flees.

Zhongli turns to you, swirling the tea gently in its cup. “It has been… a long time since I laughed like that.”

You nudge him under the table with your foot. “You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then:

“Perhaps,” he muses, “you are more dangerous than I realized.”

You grin. “Only to your dignity.”

He raises his teacup in a mock-toast. “Then may the Geo Archon protect me.”

You clink your cup against his, still smiling.

The lanterns above stop flickering. Somewhere, the world rights itself. But in the quiet between heartbeats, something in Liyue shifts—just a little.

Not broken.

Just… a little more alive.

#dino’s blurbs #x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #morax #morax x reader #morax x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x you

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hurtspideyparker · 3 months ago

Text

Avengers' Galentine's Day 💕

"You may be wondering why I've convened you here today."

Natasha looks around the table at the men, hands clasped and back straight. Bruce, Peter, Sam, and Bucky sit around her.

Peter perks up. "I'm just happy to be here, thank you for inviting me Ms. Romanoff!"

"You can call me Natasha. And don't make me regret it," she says pointedly.

Peter nods furiously, leaning in intently as she speaks again.

"Valentine's Day is tomorrow, and to my knowledge all of you are single. And my knowledge is always correct. So, I propose a Galentine's Day."

The men all share awkward looks.

"We're all...dudes."

"Yes, thank you Sam. I wasn't aware." She says sharply before continuing.

"Listen, contrary to popular belief around here, I am a woman. I want to do woman things. But Wanda has a boyfriend, Pepper is working, and Maria is out of the country. So, I'm left with you doofuses."

"Hold on, hold on," Sam puts a hand up, "why wouldn't we think you were a woman? I mean we treat you like a friend and not a sex object. That's not treating you like a man."

Natasha holds up a hand and starts counting on her fingers.

"You two were making fart noises and giggling during breakfast with me sitting right there, and only stopped when Pepper walked in for a bagel," she looks between Sam and Peter.

"You offered me your 3-in-1 when I forgot my toiletries bag on mission," she nods to Bruce.

"And you—" she raises her eyebrows at Bucky, "handed me a cup when I said I needed to pee during that road trip out West."

The men all turn to Bucky.

"Jus' instinct. My bad." he hunches under their scrutiny.

"What kinda road trips you going on man," Sam asks.

"Clearly not the same ones as you."

"CleArLy—"

"Anyways!" Natasha interrupts, "You owe me. And if you say no you're probably sexist. Who's in?"

Peter's hand shoots up enthusiastically, and the others reluctantly follow.

"Great! We need someone on decorations, someone to plan an activity, someone on dinner, I'll prepare the snacks, and then someone on drinks. Alcoholic and non. And yes this all has to be Valentine's theme. So...who knows a good balloon place?"

Sam gets dinner, Bucky drinks, Bruce on the activity, and Peter decorations.

"You're all capable people so do not call me every second asking stupid questions. Figure it out, it better be amazing. Steve and Tony are leaving at 6pm for their date and won't be back till late, so we have the place to ourselves. The dress code is red white and pink, be there or be square."

With that Natasha is up and breezing down the hall.

"Why do I feel guilty and manipulated at the same time. What just happened." Bruce contemplates.

"Spies man," Sam shakes his head.

Peter rolls his eyes, "you guys are so lame. Do you know what this means? Chocolate covered strawberries. Heart shaped balloons. Fun games. Frosting—I basically lived off of Red 40 when I was 13. And I like hanging out with you all, what's the difference now that it's Valentine's?"

"The difference is I have to party plan, and I can't go to the bar and flirt with lonely singles." Sam complains.

Peter shrugs and gets up from the table. "That's weird, and you're no fun. Later losers!"

Bucky crosses his arms and sinks into the chair. "Why is it Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark, but we're losers?"

"Probably because you two are morons and he beat your asses before his balls dropped." Bruce says nonchalantly, picking up his tablet and pulling out his reading glasses.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Peter gets to work first, calling May because he has zero experience decorating anything, let alone a holiday themed girls' (?) night.

"Dollar store helium balloons. Honestly, dollar store for most of it; look in the Valentine's section. Also maybe ribbon, place settings, and of course flowers. And don't you dare leave the flowers in the plastic Peter Benjamin Parker—"

Peter finds most of what he needs at the dollar store, and then finds a red and white checkered tablecloth at the thrift store.

The day of he sets the table with heart doilies, pink dishware that Pepper found for him, and some random candles. The odd assortment makes it look rustic, and not like he stole them from people's rooms in the tower. (Wanda had a candle that smells like lavender! Score!)

He sets the balloons loose onto the ceiling and shrugs a good enough when they seem evenly spaced. He uses Mr. Stark's credit card to buy the flowers, because holy bejesus, 60 dollars for plants that aren't even going to make it to next month?! He fixes them up nice, an assortment in varying shades of pink with small white flowers in-between, and puts them in a vase he found when dumpster diving. He hangs streamers and heart garlands on the walls, and uses some Valentine's confetti to just... throw around. It looks like the dragon of capitalism threw up on all the flat surfaces, and Peter dusts his hands off with a job well done.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Sam knows how to be romantic. He does not, however, know how to be "cutesy".

All his normal romantic dinner ideas go flying out the window—he is not ordering steak and salmon for a bunch of dudes and a minor, thank you very much.

The only thing he could find that would fit the theme without being romantic was heart-shaped pizzas. It sounds like the perfect party food and just might avoid disappointing a woman who carries a dozen weapons on her at all time (half of which are just the ways she can use her body with lethal force).

He calls five pizza shops trying to place a catering order for the 14th, receives a cacophony of "fuck you"s, "do you know what day that is? Do you know what day today is?", and some immediate hang ups before deciding that homemade pizzas are way more fun and creative anyways, and does a quick grocery shop.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Bruce looks through blogs with pictures of millennial blonde women telling him about "great ideas for girls' night!" and finds his task far more difficult than anticipated.

Friendship bracelets? Clashing aesthetics aside, they'd probably rain down in a mess of beads mid-fight. He does not want to Home Alone his friends (don't even get him started on Hulking out).

Decorate your own hair accessories? He's not sure how the physics of trying to clip a hair bow onto Sam's head would work. Bucky and Natasha might appreciate a good claw clip though.

What he does land on is making clay fridge magnets. They have... a fridge. How hard can painting be?

He also pulls out Uno and Avengers Edition Guess Who—they get sent a lot of promotional items. Collectively their favourite was the Ben & Jerry's Super ice cream line, they bought a whole other freezer for it.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Bucky buys 3 bottles of rosé, 2 tequila, 1 vodka, red jello packets, pink lemonade, edible glitter, and strawberry milk.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

Natasha placed an order for a beautiful array of cupcakes, chocolate covered strawberries, and a charcuterie board back in December.

She only waited so long to invite her guests because she wasn't sure how they'd react to her wanting a nice girly party. Her options were already slim to begin with, and it felt weird inviting a bunch of dudes to something she's been planning for months with the ridiculous expectation she'd magically have more women in her life.

Either way, she's determined to have a great night. These are some of her closest friends, why would it matter if they're men?

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

"Maybe I should have been clearer about the dress code."

Natasha is wearing a beautiful red dress; mid-length, thin straps, and a plunging neckline. It fits her curves beautifully, emphasizing her hips in a silky fabric.

The men took the dress code in a...different direction.

Bruce is wearing jeans and a maroon cardigan.

Sam has a white button-up and a red tie, cuffs rolled up to the elbow, and nice black slacks.

Peter is wearing pink hello kitty pajama pants and a white t-shirt with an anatomical heart diagram.

Bucky is adorned in his usual black cargo pants and a baby pink hoodie.

The men all assess each other's outfits, eyes reflecting uncertainty. Sam in particular seems at odds with Bucky's pastel fashion choice.

"Where'd you get that sweater? I thought your favourite colour was "dark" and your closet consistent exclusively of black, noir, midnight, and charcoal."

Bucky seems content despite the fashion being out of his comfort zone. The soft warm colouring makes him seem sweet and approachable despite his perpetual glower.

"I don't know, it just turned like this one day. It used to be white."

Sam narrows his eyes, "I think you messed up your laundry dude."

"I thought this was just something that happened with your fancy machines. I like dark colours, so. I wouldn't know if this was normal."

"Did you wash it with something red? Used hot water?"

"I don't own any red."

Sam exchanges skeptical looks with the other confused Avengers, except Peter, who's completely turned away from them all and observing the wall.

"Peter." Natasha asks.

"Mhm?" he says, back still turned.

"You wouldn't happen to know something about this would you?"

Peter rocks back and forth on his feet, arms swinging like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Not a clue Ms. Ro—Natasha. I haven't the faintest idea."

"The kid did something to your laundry."

"Hey!" Peter spins around. "That is a wild accusation."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do it."

Peter matches her unwavering stare, "I! ...Maybe put some of Spider-Man's things in the machine. It was already going and it was just socks—why would I start a new load for socks!"

"When the load that's already going is whites. Honestly, as a society shouldn't we have moved past separating colours? Cold water people, cold water." Bruce trails off.

Sam claps him on the shoulder with a "preach it brother!" while pumping his other fist in the air.

Natasha slices her hands through the air in an 'enough' motion.

"It's fine, it's fine. We're here, we're dressed, Peter managed to do a nice job decorating," Peter grins and shoots her two thumbs up, "so let's get the party started."

Natasha turns on some music while Sam grabs everything out of the fridge.

"We're gonna make heart pizzas! Thought I'd add a little fun and personality to the whole dinner affair."

Natasha looks him up and down.

"All of the pizza places told you to fuck off didn't they?"

"Loudly and immediately."

Her lips quirk subtly and then she helps him set the table up and pass out dough. Sam sighs in relief at the micro expression of joy.

The table is full of chatter and warmth, toppings being passes around. Peter sings along to Blank Space by Taylor Swift with an alarming passion, and Sam absolutely kills everyone with his rendition of Single Ladies by Beyoncé, even getting a chuckle from Bucky. There is a short stint between Natasha and Bruce in which she sees how many green peppers she can place on his pizza without him noticing after he said he didn't like the fruit.

"But you like red?"

"Red has flavour, green things all taste like water or small talk."

The answer was 6 before he noticed.

They take turns playing Avengers Guess Who while they wait for all of their food to cook. Peter and Sam are against each other as Natasha eats her fresh pizza.

"Is your character a man?"

Sam's eyebrows furrow. They just started the game, and already he's stumped.

"I don't know dude, I don't even know if he's got any junk in his trunk."

"Oh, so Vision?"

"Dammit!"

Bucky and Natasha go next.

"Would your character wear his own branded underwear?"

"Yes." Natasha replies immediately. "Would your character be picked for a stealth mission?"

"Nope," Bucky answers as he finishes flipping down his characters. He only has 3 left.

"Has your character had a press scandal in the last 6 months?"

Natasha thinks for a moment, "yes. Is your character Bruce?"

Bucky groans and slams down the last character he had up.

"Yeah. And yours was Tony."

"Indeed it was. Should have guessed when you had 3, better to gamble than play it safe." Bucky rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.

Bucky gets all of his drinks out while they eat, pouring lemonade and tequila haphazardly into their cups, stirring in glitter with an unenthusiastic flare.

"Voila."

Peter looks on.

"What about me?"

Bucky reaches back into the fridge and pulls out a litre of pink strawberry milk.

"Ta-da."

Peter looks at it with befuddlement.

"What, you want the glitter too?"

"Not a fan of micro plastics, thanks."

Bucky shrugs and pushes the jug of milk towards him.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

"Fridge magnets!"

They all stare at Bruce.

"Magnets! For our fridge!"

"And this made you think of us?" Sam asks.

Bruce throws his hands up. "I don't know man! Would you have preferred wine glass painting?"

Sam holds his palms towards Bruce in a soothing manner. "Struck a nerve there..." he whispers to Bucky.

Despite their apprehension they fall into a nice rhythm of sipping and shaping. The clay starts coming together under their palms; Bruce a pair of glasses, Peter an Iron Man mask, Natasha a pair of ballet slippers, Sam a set of sprawling wings and Bucky a kitten.

"You a cat guy?" Sam asks him.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

Sam's eyes flit between the small cat ears being shaped by gruff hands and the shadowed face of the taciturn super soldier.

"Naw, just didn't peg you as a cat guy. Or an animal guy. Or a loving guy."

Bucky stares at him for a moment before stretching a fist out and smashing Sam's wings-in-progress.

"Hey! Foul, foul! Natasha are you going to just let this happen?"

"It's Bruce's activity."

"Hulk smash."

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

As the night progresses the adults become more and more tipsy, grazing the charcuterie board and sweets on the table.

"AH oh GOD what did you make these with, battery acid?!"

Everyone turns to Peter who's standing in the refrigerator door, holding a cup of half eaten red Jello.

"Oh, I forgot about those. They're Jello shots."

Peter balks at Bucky, "as in alcohol?!"

He rushes to the sink and tilts his head sideways under the faucet, water blasting onto his tongue.

"Well, that's dramatic."

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted. Why on Earth would you ruin perfectly good Jello like that?"

Bucky grabs the tray of Jello shots from the opened fridge, placing them on the table and handing them out to the adults.

"Cheers," they tap the plastic cups before shooting the gelatin down their throats to the sound of Peter spluttering in the sink. Bucky and Natasha's go down smoothly, Sam chokes a bit at the awkward chunk of food heating his throat, and Bruce spends 30 seconds trying to scoop the Jello out of the cup with an uncomfortable combination of finger and tongue action.

"How do you even know about Jello shots, you're like...old." Peter remarks once he's taken a few gulps of pink lemonade to wash down the aftertaste.

"How do you know about Jello shots, you're like...uncool." Bucky retorts. Natasha snorts and Sam bursts out laughing. Even Bruce chuckles.

"Dr. Banner," Peter whines at him.

"Sorry kid, but he's got a point. What kind of kid spits out a Jello shot. It's free, sugary, no-repercussions alcohol."

Peter just sits down with a pout and continues to sip on his lemonade.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The night gets later, the adults more inebriated as they finish painting their magnets.

Sam has eaten all the salami off the board and Peter has taken to throwing the disproportionate amount of cheese leftover at people. Bucky is on his third cupcake, and Natasha keeps giggling into her cup of tequila.

"What if he was blue—" Sam starts cracking himself up, hovering a paintbrush near Peter's Iron Man face.

"I don't understand what's so funny about that. Stop, Sam stop!"

As the boys fight over the paint, Natasha and Bruce go with a quick all-over glaze of colour and then add the sealant and magnet before the others even make it to a second shade. Bucky paints his cat with an air of intense concentration, one even Sam doesn't want to go near.

Their finished magnets get placed onto fridge.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The whole group seem to be moving around and restless, chaotic and boisterous. Sam complains loudly about the romcom they put on in the background, Peter, Bruce, and Bucky play a rapid round of Uno, and Natasha keeps popping in and out of rooms with a different cookie and drink in her hand each time.

Bruce starts to get weepy when he pronounces uno, mumbling something about being "uno" forever through a drunken tongue and snot as Peter rubs his back.

The next time they turn around Natasha and Bucky are on the other couch making out.

"Gross! No! No romance on Galentine's Day!" Peter shouts, throwing pillows and pink m&ms at them until they pull away. Peter couldn't see much other than the back of Bucky's head, but he shivers in disgust at the sight of reddened lips.

He starts counting down the time on the clock until Tony and Steve are said to come home. While the snacks, games, and company have been fantastic, the adults are becoming far too...exuberant for his taste.

Bruce is a weepy drunk, Sam simply annoying, Natasha is sneaky and suspiciously absent for odd lengths of time, and Bucky...

"Hey! What did I say!" Peter dumps his glass of water onto the brunet, watching him jerk his lips off of Sam's in dissatisfaction.

"I swear I'll get a spray bottle. Bad Bucky." he says before continuing to the bathroom.

He finds the door open and Natasha standing at the mirror, curling her hair.

"Why?"

Natasha just shrugs.

˖°. ⋆ ♡ ˖°. ⋆

The elevator finally dings a quarter to midnight.

"Oh thank goodness."

Steve and Tony exit with linked arms, broad smiles and sides pressed together in a matching gate.

Peter rushes up to them, backpack in hand as he starts shedding his t-shirt and socks.

"Woah there cowboy, I did not sign up for that kind of rodeo" Tony alarms.

Peter just pulls out his spider suit and starts slipping it on over his state of undress.

"Tell Natasha I had a great time, but I'm expeditiously out of here. Bruce is still hung up on his ex, Natasha feels distanced from her femininity and is trying to regain her girlhood, Bucky's a slut, and Sam is so totally tapping that tonight. I'd like to be far, far away when that happens."

Peter pulls on the final piece of the suit, masking up and sending enthusiastic waves to the couple.

"Hope your date was nice! This is not my problem anymore."

And then he scampers to the balcony and swings off into the night.

The couple share wide eyes, listening to the odd sound of their friends and the booming TV playing a romantic 90s soundtrack.

Is someone crying?

Steve turns away from Tony and steps towards the living area, but Tony doesn't loosen his hold on the other's arm, making his steps stutter to a stop immediately.

"Shouldn't we go check on them? Sounds like the party was too much of a hit."

Steve looks over at the empty bottles of wine and tequila tipped on the kitchen counter. There's food, half fallen streamers, and Uno cards everywhere.

"Right now? That is not our problem."

"But—"

Tony slinks forward, pressing their chests together and wrapping his arms around the Captain's neck, wide-eyed browns meeting baby blues.

"It's still Valentine's, and I have a far more pressing problem for you."

Steve stares mesmerized under Tony's touch, the man sly and hot against his front. They're close, close enough to feel...

"Oh! That's—"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Yeah, they'll be fine till morning."

Tony smirks and Steve matches his smile, moving his hands to his lover's waist before walking him backwards.

Tony allows himself to be guided to their bedroom without breaking eye contact, blocking all thoughts of the other Avengers with a slam of the door and giggling open mouthed kisses.

#domestic avengers #marvel #mcu #avengers #peter parker #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bruce banner #stony #sambucky #winterwidow #marvel mcu #steve rogers #tony stark #happy valentine's day #don't talk to me about this being late i was so upset i ran out of time 😭. 14 is such a pretty number 😞#valentine's day

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goatgoesmbe · 2 months ago

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Gaz x GN!reader thought

Im liking the idea of a popular hottie Kyle who always knew how to charm his way into anyone's pants

And reader who's very socially awkward but always tried your best

Like maybe he'd hang at a pub, trying to politely refuse a girl who was clearly interested in him, but he wasn't feeling like taking anyone home at the moment

But then he changed his mind when you took a seat beside him (you kind of tripped as you walked over to him and fell onto the stool) then you threw some shitty pick up line in a very awkward manner

"Hey.. come here often?" You said, trying to be smooth but then physically cringe at yourself

The girl who was trying to woo him earlier even snickered before shifting her focus back to Kyle

And you'd want the earth to open up and swallow you whole, flee to another country with a new identity or something

So imagine your surprise when he shifted in his seat and turned to face you, smiling with a glint of amusement in his eyes as he so obviously made it clear that he was ignoring the girl

He didn't know why he was immediately interested in you. Maybe because your effort was refreshing, as he was used to the others who laid it on him smooth

Plus, you were pretty attractive yourself-- you just seemed to not know how to use it to your advantage

"I didn't come as often as i'd like recently, maybe you could help with that" he replied

And you started to panick even more because the hottest guy you've ever seen had his full attention on you and you also felt bad for the girl who eventually took the hint and left

"You're trash..!" You blubbered out a pick up line from your memory, from when you looked up a list of it on your phone before approaching him

"Because, you know.. i'd like to take you out" you felt your face heating up while you held yourself back from facepalming

"Sure you can take me, luv?" He chuckled and shifted his seat closer to yours

"Yes.. well um.. you know- uh-" you stammered, heart racing in your chest as you thought of a response, scrolling through the list of lines in your head once again

"I'm sure i could do better than the police who's after you.." you said

He blinked

"Uh.. you know, i mean- they must be on you all the time-" You cut yourself short when he tilted his head and gave you a look. He somehow got more amused than he already was when you processed what you just said

"OH SHIT- not because you're black, i meant being that sexy is a crime" you sputtered out loudly which made some patrons look your way

You buried your face in your hands, cheeks flushed a deep color. You were so sure you fucked up, bad

You didn't know why you even tried your luck on him but you regretted it immensely. It was stupid, you were stupid-

And while you contemplated on fleeing the scene, you heard him spoke "Did you just fart?"

Now, it was you who had an eyebrow raised "No- did i?" You asked yourself and started panicking again, did you really just-

"Because you blew me away" he continued and threw a wink your way

And if you thought your face couldn't get any warmer, you were wrong

But even when you were still very ashamed of yourself, you still snorted at his reply (making one of those ugly pig noise that could make other people laugh, but for some reason he found it endearing)

The conversation that went on after wasn't any less awkward, no. So you were so sure he probably was just being nice because he took pity on you, and would probably tell his friends about this interaction later to make fun of it

But you couldn't be more wrong

And the number written inside your palm was the proof

#cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #mbe's gaz

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thegnomelord · 1 year ago

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pls pls pls pls pls pls write something with hound getting a lil chubby during rehab pls i want to see him soft and comfy, being hand fed and cuddled. hound with a little tum from finally having not only enough to eat but enough rest to actually gain a little extra weight pls im in my knees characters getting a lil chub as a sign of healing my beloved

Okay here's a small brain fart for you:

You've gotten fat.

it's a rather egregious exaggeration, according to the two sergeants, but it's the first thing you think of when you look in the mirror. Your hard muscles still bulge beneath your skin when you flex, but now there's a layer of fat cushioning your frame — it smooths the planes of your abdomen, widens the circumference of your thighs and the breadth of your shoulders until you're popping the seams of your clothes, the layer of fat deepening the cleavage between your pecks whenever you cross your arms. Even your cheeks look chubbier than they had before.

You don't look like death warmed over, and you don't know how to feel about it. The psychologist says it's a good thing, your body finally figuring out it can slow down and focus on healing instead of constantly living on the edge of a knife.

But you just don't see it. It feels like you're regressing; Forgetting the harshness of the wild when you're collared and leashed by the fireplace, growing fat and lazy, complacent. A spoiled dog isn't loyal.

You let out a noise at the back of your throat when Johnny suddenly rushes into the small room you've been given, the door slamming open and closed. You don't have time to even say a single word before he's in front of you, "Hide me!" and then he's gripping your shit and pushing himself beneath it. Your frame is big enough to where you completely block him out, and his arms wrap as much as they can around your waist so he can cling to you.

You're rarely stunned to the point you don't know what to do, but this is one of those times.

A second later you hear a "MacTavish!" and loud footsteps rush down the hall, accompanied by loud swears and threats you can only assume are from Ghost.

Johnny waits still as a statue as the footsteps grow quiet, his breath washing over your skin from where his face is pressed against your chest. When they grow quiet he shuffles, a couple of seams popping in the already stretched out shirt until he pokes his head through the head hole of the shirt, resting his chin on the top of your sternum. "Thanks laddie, saved me skin there."

"Что блят?" Is the only thing your mind can force out, defaulting to Russian because you haven't been able to dig up your mother tongue from the grave the old you is buried in.

"Ah don't worry about it, the bloody dobber had it comin' with his bloody tea in chef Mike an' — Hmmm," His attention focuses on you, head disappearing beneath the shirt once again until only his stupid mohawk pokes out as his hands give an experimental squeeze at your sides, some of the fat getting trapped between his fingers. "Hey, have you gotten bigger? Ah could swear you weren't so fluffy before."

"That a nice way of calling me fat?" You feel the need to cross your arms, to hide the cushioning hiding your muscles. Ants gnaw on your skin where Soap touches you, his calloused palms sliding as far as they can and a strange sound rumbling in his chest when he registers that the space between both of his hands is indeed larger than it had been a couple of months ago.

"Nonsense!" He guffaws, "There's just more ta love." He hums, hands pinching the fat at your sides, evidently too content with your position as his human furnace to even think about detaching from you. "Oh yeah, you've filled out. Yae know hens love the dad bod, get some more hair on yer chest an' you'll be reeling the bucks in too."

"That-" You have to bite your lip when his hands suddenly shoot up to grope your pecks. He pushes them together and buries his face in the cleavage created. Your brain completely shuts off when he fucking motorboats you, shaking his head and making a sound right against your chest to the point you're sure you can feel the vibrations in your spine.

"MacT-avish!" The sound that escapes you is humorously high-pitched for someone of your size, your voice cracking as you feel your entire face grow hot.

He pokes his head back out like a whack-a-mole, a very pleased look on his face. "Yeeess?" He asks, sickly sweet. "Something the problem big man?"

"I-" You try, too many thoughts weighing down your tongue, "-You-" this time your voice cracks, "-why-" you hiccup, your lungs choosing this time to request air as you breathe in. You look in his eyes as best you can, but the way the sparkle makes it difficult for your body to stoke the flames of anger you've grown so used to feel. ". . . блят." You finally manage to say, your shoulders sagging.

He grins at you, his hands sliding down to pet the soft surface of your stomach, fingers pressing down to feel the hard muscle beneath the fat. "Aye, big bear of a fucker, you are." He grins and goes on his tippy toes, the shirt moving up with him before he lightly pecks your lips. "Yae look good like this."

"Yeah?" You grunt, trying not to show how the soft touch affects you but your ears feel like you'd dipped them into the pits of hell.

"Definitely." He's confident when his hands slides down to grope your ass, forcing another embarrassing sound from your chest. "Now how about we get some more food in yer belly? Make you the famous MacTavish pie."

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #trinkets from the hoard #good dog fic #Hound-reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #call of duty makarov

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beatcroc · 6 months ago

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three HUNDRED hours ringracers everybody.

getting very near the maximum amount of single-player completion of this game i'll be able to achieve....

continued notes from [the tags of] the last part re: character usage & activities:

1. this snake has exploded 1500 times. REALLY been hammering at the spb challenges with redz there; i've given thorough attempts to every stage now so there's not much left to mess with and he'll get overtaken by the true mains again eventually. as of posting, there are 33/152 spb medals i don't have. most of those aren't happening, but i'd like to at least get down to 30. 25 if i'm really reaching.

2/3. magician and mecha remain my all-purpose general mains, and the only guys i use in online play [save for when im doing a bit w/ people :p]. mecha will likely be overtaking magician soon because i'm no longer afraid of using him outside of 50cc and he's usually my more consistent character [yknow, as opposed to the "character who is the random button", who'd have guessed]. magician is still my favorite funny pick, but recently i've only been using her on days i dont feel like dealing with how unwieldy mecha's 9w ass is.

3. sliver made a pretty big leap in "matches played" as well, as i started using him in the spb challenges on tracks where i needed a much sharper turn/drift than redz' being a 7w allows. thankfully i've found that his excellent ring-boost stat [+my better understanding of how the spb works] does a lot to make up for the poorer drift-turbos. hes exploded 300 times.

4. cluckoid my fucking GOAT, back in the top 6 again because it's by far the character im actually best with; been using it to clear out grand prix on master difficulty [and get emeralds]. i truly had zero intention of getting all emeralds on master but i just kind of sat down to mess with it one evening and then immediately went on a streak of 8 consecutive gp's where i pulled an emerald. considering the 3 i'd had before that i was like. ok well theres no reason to not finish this out now.

6. and then shadow's still there. he's basically been retired. there's still a good number of time trial medals i want to go for, but ive learned a lot abt the game's mechanics since then and it turns out he's actually really suboptimal for how time trials work. cream the rabbit has been rising up in his stead, but it's doubtful there's enough left to do with her that she'll surpass him. my initial thought-to-be-outlandish goal was to hit 750 medals, but... well i did that already. i think the platinum medals don't actually count as part of the game's "784" medal total??? and are actually extra bonuses that count on top of/beyond that?? so now if i'm being really funny i'd like to go above the 784 ""total"" count but again that is PUSHING IT. we'll see though.

metal sonic kicked out of top 6 forever amen <3 goodbye you little shit

everybody give it up for 100 hours of ringracers

#i actually still really like the feel of metal sonic but i dont use him on principle.#not shown here but ive been fucking w wonder boy a bit too 'cause he's charming and 7w is where i'm most comfortable #i think if i ever really get sick of mecha and/or magician i'll swap to him as a general main #i dont forsee that happening anytime soon though LOL. magician by design is kind of impossible to get sick of #surge will sadly probably not ever be making a comeback though because i ffuckinnggggg haatteeeeee high-speed lightweights #i dont mind 'em for one lap at a time whenthey come up under magician but actually catering to their playstyle in normal racing conditions?#hell fucking no.#also redz is allegedly actually a t-rex but ive never been able to look at it and not see a snake #redz very fun very silly character. it makes like growly pixel noises but they also kind of just sounds like farts. lot of character tho #i lvoe all the random stupid badniks in the roster sm. they all gots funky sounds. caterkiller in particular is really out there #anywho ive acquired a pretty decent wealthj of knowlege abt this game so if anyone else plays this or is starting up....hmu #talk to me abt ringracers i can tell you so many things and tips

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verysium · 1 year ago

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This is such crack brain fart idea 😶

What if some blue lock boys ask the reader what brand her shoes (or something dumb like that) over text and reader sent them a voice message on text and it’s just:

“Hi baby, okay so the brand is—- *insert car accident noises*”

Have you seen those TikToks???

If you do this request, it can be any blue lock boys you want

HELPPP i saw something similar on hinge, and i was hunched over the side of my bed laughing for like 20 minutes. in general, i don't think pranks with any of the bllk boys would go well (unless you wanted to be punted like a football, american-style) but i'm taking a risk today, so here you go:

sae sees through your bullshit in a peloponnesian minute. he has morning practice, three interviews, and a daily nap to get to, so what makes you think he has time for you to fake a car accident? leaves you on read. (brutal, i know.)

rin is mildly concerned, but he's too smart to fall for whatever prank you have planned. he'd probably reply with a sarcastic, dry ass response or a deadpan emoji. refuses to talk to you for the rest of the day because what if you actually got into a car accident? he would lose all sanity. tbh he can't stand it when people make light of serious situations even if it's just a lighthearted joke.

kaiser is petty. he sends you an official funeral invite titled "in loving memory of y/n." he personally designed it in photoshop and even added those tacky glitter rose GIF animations on the front. coincidentally, everyone in your immediate circle also happened to receive the same mass email chain with those invites, so you had to explain to your family, friends, and co-workers that (1) you did not in fact die in a car accident and (2) your funeral is not set for the 15th. (you never played a prank on michael again.)

isagi freaks out. he's calling 911/119, whatever emergency service there is. immediately calls you and nearly breaks down in fear of losing you. when you tell him it was merely a prank, he laughs in relief but internally he's cursing you out with every colorful name in existence.

ness is isagi but even more high-strung. there is no time to call the ambulance in his mind. he's already thundering down the highway looking for the evidence of your car wreck. calls you and screams ballistically into the speaker: "WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?" so yeah....don't ever play a prank on ness. it's for your sake, not his.

shidou takes you up one notch and sends a picture of himself in the emergency room with a cast on his leg and an IV drip. this spawn of satan took your message literally and decided to copy you and got into a real car accident. so now you have to take time off work and sign the hospital discharge papers because he listed you as his sole emergency contact.

nagi doesn't give a shit. he's already chronically online, and reo's played pranks on him before. probably texts you an "ok" and then tells you he's run out of toilet paper again, so you need to stop by the store to buy some.

reo matches your energy. he replies with: oh yeah, i've heard of that brand. it's the—*insert sound of trucks colliding and screeches across asphalt* you both had a good laugh after.

ok that's all i have for now. this is going to reach a very niche demographic, but you're welcome.

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rootspiral · 6 months ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 3 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

hey hey, it's episode 3 Through Many Miles of Tricks and Trials and we're on the Road, witches!

Agatha knew All Along (that Billy created the Road), evidence number 1 out of 646132.

And see how they added black bars in this episode? They're getting ready to switch aspect ratio like they did in Wandavision

but like, she's not wrong. you see that sharon's not wrong, don't you? she has been kidnapped by witches. again.

agatha's grimace when they say it's all her fault. which a) it totally is and b) she never expects other witches to be supportive of her anyway

oh sharon, you beautiful fish out of water. we all laugh at her, meanwhile she's PANICKING. HARD.

this particular group needs to figure out how to do that first, Billy. but hey, they'll get there. sort of.

Jen, looking directly at agatha: why is this MAGICLESS HELPLESS lady coming with us on a deadly mission, whose sick idea was this? she has no business being here!

Sharon, her voice drowned by everyone else: see that's what I've been trying to tell you~

Agatha deflecting hard, like the coward she is: HEY THIS IS MY GOOD FRIEND MRS HART YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

a very scared coven looks at agatha for answers, because she's the only one who's ever been on the Road.

agatha, who's never fucking been on the Road and made up the whole thing: I've bullshitted my way into this mess, I'll bullshit my way out of it. live laugh love bitches!

I'm looking at this scene clearly for the first time now that I've brightened it, and wow, the others are worried, but sharon looks so scared, always so scared

billy is having the time of his life, and you'd think agatha would step in at some point and warn him about what he's done. but nah. let's wait and see. as long as she's covering her own ass.

lilia looking at billy's sigil like, damn that's some neat handiwork, wonder who did that. she sounds like a cool witch.

agatha totally insults stuff when she's impressed with it like some cheap anime tsundere

lies.

but see how she puts her whole body between billy and the others? super protective mama

HOW COULD YOU GUYS LOSE HER SO QUICKLY. it's funny and all, but this is exactly how she'll die: they'll forget about her until it's too late.

it's so clever what they're doing with sharon, and it's so clever that they chose debra jo rupp for it, because she's so delightfully funny. I've talked already about how the comedy in the first few episodes is deceptive. sharon is living in a horror movie and you're not supposed to see it quite yet.

you think she's a funny old lady upset about losing her purse. you think maybe she's gonna find out she's magical and join the coven, who knows! so much fun, so many possibilities! you don't think that this is a woman in her 70s who was brutally tortured by a witch only a few years back, you forgot the lesson from wandavision. this evening she was tending her garden and now she's god knows where with a bunch of those very witches she's sure to be terrified of, kidnapped by a neighbor she thought she could trust. think about that, she's not going home, ever. I'll elaborate more at the end of the episode, but this is a show about the inevitability of death. sharon is like nicky, doomed by the narrative, and it'll take you two or three or four rewatches to fully see it and to make your peace with it.

alice tenderheart, alice braveheart jumps to the rescue with no hesitation. she is a protection witch. she protects.

agatha stands in the back and (pretends she) doesn't care, like some asshole.

hey agatha, hey agatha? fuck you. fuck you agatha.

she's pulling all this out of her ass. she might as well be doing fart noises right now

my headcanon is that this is where Billy dreams to retire with Boyf in their golden years. you know he thinks about that sort of stuff

thank you to @friedwizardwhispers for pointing out that agatha is also in awe of the Road and the magic it took to create it. she is! look at her here, she's scared but also excited, she's fundamentally a nerd who's always hungry to learn and discover more about magic and spellcraft. she hates the witch community but she's also obsessed with it

now look at this sequence: agatha demonstrates once again that she knows Billy is behind all of this. only she goes about it with hints and metaphors because - you know - she's a damn fucking coward

sharon has gone through all the stages of grief in twenty minutes: denial (this is a kidnapping!), anger (this came from talbots, you can't have it!) bargain (okay, okay, okay, catching my breath, okay), depression (I don't know how do you expect me to walk and walk and walk when there is nowhere to walk to!) aaand now she's accepted her fate. time to get drunk. and die.

"That would be such a bummer." WOULD IT NOW BILLY. WOULD IT BE SUCH A BUMMER IF SHARON DIED SO SENSELESSLY? WOULD IT SEND AUDIENCES THROUGH ALL FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF TOO IF SHE WAS KILLED LIKE THAT??? IT'S ALMOST AS IF THEY'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE OR SMTH BILLY

what I'm saying is, the writers are truly basking in some cruel irony right now. especially considering that billy is going to feel so responsible about sharon's death

the others look back at the house, agatha is the only one looking at billy, she's the only one who understands the implications of the exchange between billy and sharon. I imagine her process being something like "this is really going to hurt the kid later -> should I say something? -> should I step in? -> should i...? -> ... ->nah"

so the moon in the sky and the color of the leaves on the Road depend on the trial? is that why they were blue just now? I need to pay more attention to stuff like that

sharon takes a deep breath, sighs, goes into the house last.

sudden aspect ratio change! not my favorite outfits, but I love those pants on kathryn

see you tomorrow peeps ❤️

go to episode 3 part 2

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #sharon davis #billy maximoff #character study #debra jo rupp #kathryn hahn #joe locke

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canadianfangirl-95 · 2 months ago

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A Close Call

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: I saw a writing challenge for Pedro characters and one of them was hiding in a closet and I don’t remember who the creator was so I can’t submit but I wrote it for fun anyway.

Warnings; post-Triple Frontier, Frankie has no wife or kid, friends with benefits, smut, unprotected piv, porn with plot, possibility of getting caught, idk it’s pretty funny too, probably missed something but lmk

Word count: 3100+ (oops)

Sliding the screen door closed behind you, you carefully latch the lock and shrug the bag on your shoulder higher. Santi and Yovanna have a hot tub, but like, the best hot tub ever. They said when they were on their month-long trip to visit her brother in Australia that anyone in the friend group could use it. That was 4 months ago, and you may have been sneaking over periodically to enjoy a private bath while they’re on a weekend getaway or you know they’re going to be seeing a particularly long movie. Thankfully, they love Quintin Terrentio and Chrisopher Nolan films. You know they wouldn’t exactly be mad if they found out, but they would definitely revoke your key privileges and with volleyball season coming soon, you’re gonna need the boiling hot soaks to calm your muscles.

You dried off meticulously outside so as to not leave any drips on the floor. Your towel is tied around your waist, your bikini top bare and your clothes in the bag as your flip flops pat against the floor as you make your way to the guest bathroom to change. You turn the corner in the hall and come face to face with a brick wall. You yelp and step back, holding your nose that just got smushed.

Not a brick wall. Frankie.

“Fuck.” You curse, “What are you doing here?”

He looks at you with wild eyes, “Um.” He stutters, “Doesn’t matter what are you doing here?” He asks accusingly.

You look him up and down. Slide on sandals, swim shorts, a t-shirt, towel draped over his shoulder. You smirk and cross your arms over your chest. His eyes flick fleetingly at your breasts and then back at your face. “You’re here to use their hot tub, aren’t you?” You say smugly.

Shifting nervously, he looks at the wall in the dark hallway and leans against it. “No, no just you know. Came to hang out with Santi.” He says casually before properly giving you a once over.

Eyeing him amusingly you chuckle, “You always bring a towel to hang out with Santi? Don’t they have towels here?” You ask, your fingers reaching out to fumble with the dangling fabric.

“Fine fuck off.” He finally says with a cracked smile. “But you’re literally in a bikini.” He says, gesturing to your barely covered body.

You both let out a laugh before you point at him with your finger sternly, “Okay but hey, you gotta get out of here. I need the hot tub more than you and we can’t both be sneaking over here. One of us is gonna get caught.”

“I need it too.” Frankie says admittedly.

You scoff, “Why?”

“I’ve got a bad back. I don’t know if you remember or not, but I was kinda in the army and for like 20 years and my back is fucked up.” He says exasperated.

Rolling your eyes you let out a snoozing sound, “Ugh, yes how could I forget. You literally always talk about how you used to carry horses on your back through the jungle.” You make a fart noise with your tongue to accentuate your humorous tone.

“I carried men, not horses.” He retorts with a smirk.

“Fine, whatever. Look, I’ll rock, paper, scissors you for it then.” You say in a quiet hush, remembering where you are.

His eyebrows narrow, “Why are you whispering, no one’s home.”

The lock on the front door clicks and you both practically jump out of your skin. You hear the unmistakable sound of Santis’ voice and footsteps at the front of the house.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Frankie looks around frantically and then grabs hold of the handle on the hallway closet to your right, pulling it open. “Quick, get in.” He places his hand on your back to guide you in and quickly follows suit, quietly latching the door behind him.

You’re standing in darkness, the only sounds your own deep breathing mixed with his. A moment later, a small light illuminates the room, and you look up at the light bulb Frankie just clicked on with a pull string. He releases it and looks down at you, the string swinging absently above you both.

“What are they doing home already? I thought they had a late dinner out of town?” You whisper.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Usually when they go to that restaurant Yovanna has 3 glasses of wine and makes him stop at every gas station to pee on the way back.”

Letting out a chuckle, you say. “3? Try 4.” Looking around, you take in the small hallway closet. Not much in it other than a gym bag shoved to the corner, but it was still tight. The proximity between Frankie and you a few inches at best. Looking up at his eyes, you ask. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know. They’ve never come home early before. I’m in new territory.” He says, he moves to place his hands on his hips but his elbow strikes the door. You both startle and he curses.

“Geeze. I thought you were special forces, how could you be this loud right now?” You whisper yell at him, your eyes wide. He gives you an amused look and lays his arms at his side.

“Sorry.”

Pinching your eyes shut you hum to yourself, “Fuck what do we do?”

“What time is it?” He asks.

You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, “11.”

Nodding, he says. “Okay, so let’s just wait until they go to bed, sneak out and lock the door behind us. If they catch me, they’ll take my key. They’re still pissed at me for coming over with Benny after his fight that one time when we broke her vase.”

Letting out a snort, you say. “Yeah, and if they catch me, they’ll definitely take my key away considering that time I came over and borrowed Santis truck without asking.” You cross your arms and lean back against the wall.

He eyes you curiously, “You stole his truck?”

“Borrowed.” You clarify. “I borrowed his truck.”

“For what?” he asks amused.

Smirking, you say. “I might’ve found a popcorn machine on Marketplace and it didn’t fit in my car.” Frankie lets out a quiet chuckle. “Hey, it was first come first serve I had to act fast.”

“A popcorn machine? What are you twelve?”

“What are you twelve?” You rebut in a mocking tone, and he has to chew his lip to keep himself from laughing.

Frankie lifts his hat off his head and scratches at his curly locks. “Okay, so neither of us wanna get caught then. So, let’s just ride it out and we can slip out after they’ve gone to bed. No harm done.”

“Fine.” You say, resting your head against the wall and shrugging your bag off your shoulder to place it gently on the floor beside the other bag.

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his head back as well, closing his eyes. You both settle there, but a few moments later you let out a deep breath. “I’m bored.”

Grinning, he replies. “It’s been 30 seconds.”

“Yeah, well I got bored in 30 seconds.” You retort quickly and he chuckles.

His eyes peel open and he looks you up and down. “Remember the last time we were in a small space like this?” He asks with a mischievous grin.

Giving him a knowing look, you shake your head and whisper back. “Forget about it Morales.”

“That camping trip, you and I had to share a tent.” He begins and you chew your bottom lip. “If I remember correctly, we had trouble being quiet that night too.”��

You let out a huff of breath and roll your eyes, his words bringing you back to the memory of the two of you fucking in a sleeping bag on a friend’s camping trip when you got paired in a tent. It didn’t mean anything, was just fun, and with the way he’s eyeing you now, it seems like he wants to have some more. “No, Frankie. We’ll get caught.”

He steps forward so that your bodies are almost pressed against one another. “Come on baby, you won’t be bored anymore.” He reasons and you look into his deep brown eyes, he chews his lip and pops his eyebrows up and down.

Stroking the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you shrug. “Fine, but keep it quiet Morales.” You say, pointing your finger at him again.

His head dips down and he takes your finger into his mouth, slowly dragging it through his lips till it pops out and he grins. “Trust me, you’re gonna be the one having a hard time staying quiet.”

You let out a breath as he leans further and slots his lips against yours. You gasp into his mouth as his tongue licks into yours. Your hands begin working in tandem, he quickly grabs the towel around your waist and unties it, shoving it to the ground. Meanwhile, you’re pushing his off his shoulder and pulling his shirt over his head, knocking his hat softly onto the ground. His hands grasp at your ass as he pulls you closer, so your warm bodies are pressing against one another in the tight space.

Hot air begins to fill the space as your breathing picks up. His hands wander every inch they can reach as they squeeze and pull at your ass and breasts. Your fingers intertwine with his hair and you moan quietly when he grabs your jaw to tip your head back to gain access to your throat. Frankie nips and sucks at your sensitive skin beneath your ear and your core pushes forward to begin rubbing against his hard cock through his thin swim trunks.

He groans into your mouth at the pressure and then his hands find your waist and quickly spin you so you’re facing the wall. Your hands press hard against the cool drywall as your cheek rubs it. He gently kicks at your ankles, and you abide, stepping to widen your stance. He pushes his trunks down until they rest underneath his balls, and you feel his cock spring free and nudge you in the back. You wait without breath as he grabs your bikini bottoms and pulls them down your legs until they fall to your ankles. You quickly step out of them with one foot and take your place again hard pressed against the wall.

Frankies breathing into your ear makes your cunt clench around nothing, until you finally feel his fingers graze your moistened folds. He hums, “Already wet for me. That’s my girl.” His praise sends a new flow of arousal through you.

“Can you hurry up Morales? I’m getting bored again.” You joke and watch over your shoulder as he eyes you.

“Won’t be saying that much longer. Won’t be saying anything actually.” With that you’re pushed further into the wall as he guides his hard cock deep into your pussy. You pinch your eyes shut at the stretch and try not to let out a deep moan. He stills and settles his forehead on your shoulder. “Fuck, just as fucking tight as I remember.”

Your breathing begins to settle until you feel him pull back and then slam into you. “Fuck.” You whisper, tucking your head down. His strong and calloused hands clutch your waist as he begins to slowly rock into you. Fucking you senseless into the wall. Your head falls back gently against his shoulder, and he places a kiss to your temple as one of his hands rises up to hold your jaw.

His dick nudges your cervix, and you moan. Too loud, too relaxed. His hand quickly releases your jaw and covers your mouth. “Quiet baby or I’ll have to stop.” His hushed voice whispers into your ear as his bare chest presses against your back. The heat beading off the two of you as sweat begins to develop between your bodies. As one of Frankies hands holds you quiet, his other snakes around your bodies to find your clit and your eyes squeeze shut as he continues to rail into your from behind and draw tiny circles on your sensitive bud.

The tension begins to build in you, and you feel the familiar wave of contentment as your hands turn to fists against the wall. With another deep thrust in your pussy your walls squeeze around his thick member and your orgasm crashes into you. You’re thankful for the hand clutching your mouth as you whimper into it. Your pleasure surges him forward and he bites your shoulder to quiet himself as he spills inside you. He stills but the way his dick swells inside you makes your orgasm bloom further and you find yourself rocking your hips, continuing to fuck yourself on his sensitive cock like a dildo until he’s holding your tired body up with his arms.

You both settle, and you rest your head again against the wall to let your breathing calm. You can feel Frankie finally peel his sweat covered body off of you, pulling his aching member out and reside to his side of the cramped closet.

Turning, you lean down and step back into your bikini bottoms to pull them up before his spend begins to cascade down your legs. You grab your bag and pull out your shorts and T-shirt to dress yourself. He does the same, pulling his t-shirt back over his head and placing his trusted hat firmly on his head.

After stuffing your towel into your bag, you pull out your phone again and eye the time. “Think we can slip out now?”

He steps forward and peers at your phone. “Um, let me just check real quick.” He grabs the door handle and slowly turns it trying not to make noise as the latch clicks. The door opens slightly and the distant light from the living room is the only light illuminating the dark hallway. You both still your breathing as you listen for any sign of life. It’s quiet, no creaks, no voices, no tv on. He looks back at you and shrugs, “Seems like the coast is clear. Be quiet though.” He says pointing his finger at you and you nod, placing your phone back in your bag and preparing mentally for the treacherous walk to the front door.

Frankie grabs his towel off the floor before slowly pushing the door open further, he looks around. “Okay, come on.” His hands reaches back and you take it as he guides you through the house. Your footsteps are quiet, and he looks around wildly for any semblance of his friends. You finally reach the front door, your breath a mere lump in your throat as he slowly unlocks the door. It creaks open and he grimaces before ushering you through. Following quickly and shutting the door behind him. You stand beside him as he pulls his keys out of his pockets and locks the door from the outside.

He turns to you and lets out a breath, which you mirror. “Whew, that was a close call.”

“No kidding, if we’re both gonna keep doing this, we gotta work out a schedule or something.” You say reasonably.

He places his hands on his hips and looks you up down. “Or we could just come at the same time.”

You give him an amused look and comment, “You just wanna fuck in their hot tub.”

Shrugging, he says. “Maybe.”

Grinning, you tap him on the arm and begin walking down the laneway. The cool evening Spring air bites at your bare arms and legs. He follows swiftly behind you. “Where’d you park?” He asks.

“At the gas station down the road.” You say, gesturing to your right through the streetlight filtered night.

“Oh, yeah that’s a good one. I’m just down there.” He says, pointing at his truck down the road in the direction you are also heading. You nod and both of you begin to walk down the sidewalk.

“Doing anything next?” He asks, a devilish grin on his face.

“Nah, wanna come over?” You ask, winking at him and he smirks.

“Sure. I’ll pick up a pizza on the way.”

Nodding, you say. “Oh, now you’re speaking my language.”

You still in your spot as you reach his truck and he begins to cross the road, folding your arms across your chest as you watch him walk before calling out, “Hey!”

He turns and calls back, “What?”

“How did you break that vase with Benny?” You ask with a sly grin.

Frankie licks his lips and lets out a chuckle. “Benny kind of, tackled me into it.”

Your jaw drops, “He tackled you?”

Nodding, he looks down at the pavement and then back at you. “Yeah, like I said it was after his fight, and he wanted to show me a new move he didn’t get to try out.”

“I’m assuming alcohol was involved?” You joke.

“Maybe.” He says with a chuckle.

Laughing you say, “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love us.” He says, walking backwards towards his truck.

You wave your hand casually at him and begin to walk in the direction of your car. “Yeah, yeah. See you in a bit.”

“Yep.” He confirms, before jumping into his truck.

Santi rounds the edge of the bed and grabs his phone off the nightstand.

“Are they gone yet?” Yovanna asks, rubbing moisturizer on her legs in bed.

Santi smirks, looking at his phone. “Yeah, just slipped out the front door. 20 years in special forces and they seriously didn’t think we’d have security cameras?” He says with a humorous tone. “Good idea coming home when we did, didn’t think we’d get a chance to catch both of them.”

She shakes her head, “So, are you gonna give them shit tomorrow?”

Santi slides into the bed and leans back, resting his arm under his head. “We’ll see, might be fun to fuck with them a little more. Payback for stealing my truck.”

“And breaking my vase.” She comments, pointing at him and he nods.

“And for breaking your vase.” He confirms.

She nods and begins to rub moisturizer on her hands, looking up in thought. “What do you think they did in the closet for that long?”

He shrugs against the bed as his eyes drift close. “If I know them at all probably just, played rock, paper, scissors or something like that.”

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