#their mom washed their mouth out with soap once

[spicy-apple-pie]

Swearing is weird in Wayne Manor. Especially before Jason dies.

Alfred was taught that swearing is impolite and implies that you have a small vocabulary or are dumb. So when he’s in charge of Bruce he, of course, applies those same principles. Once Bruce hits the age where he knows what swears are and how to use him, he introduces a swear jar. Which he thinks is very lenient because he used to get a wooden spoon to the butt at Bruce’s age. Bruce, being a tween, is pretty upset with this, but accepts it as he grows older.

Fast forward and Dick is adopted. Dick’s parents (and the circus in general) swore like sailors, so they didn’t really see the need to limit his use when it’s just them. But when interacting with children, they teach him not to use those words. When he asks why, they shrug and say that some times people don’t like those words, and you can’t tell who’s okay with it and who’s not. So make sure you use those words when you’re with someone who is comfortable with them.

And Dick thinks to himself how much it would suck to have to watch your language with someone 24/7.

Cut to Alfred bringing the swear jar back because Dick is swearing too much for his taste. And Dick is pissed. Because he wants to say whatever he wants, and his parents always let him swear. Alfred allows him a little grace, but for the most part, he will ask that Dick put a dollar in the jar for anything worse than crap or hell.

But Bruce remembers how frustrating it was, so he lets Dick swear as much as he wants when Alfred wasn't around. Even though the swear jar isn't for him, he still doesn't want to risk Alfred going off on him. So long as Dick isn't swearing in school or in front of Alfred, he can say whatever he wants.

But Jason is another story. Because Jason swears in almost every sentence, but the swear jar gives him massive anxiety because of his financial insecurity. Alfred tries to get creative and assigns chores for Jason to do. But Jason is like, not too upset by the idea of taking the trash out, or vacuuming. Until he realizes that it takes time away from his reading. But since Dick is an adult now, Alfred has no say in what kind of language he uses, so he's swearing more often. So eventually Alfred gives up but still doesn't approve.

After Jason dies, all sense of normal is thrown out the window. And with Tim and Cassandra, it's hard to discipline them for different reasons. Tim technically isn't Bruce's child, so it feels a little weird to impose a swear jar on him. Luckily, Tim doesn't swear too much to begin with, because when he was little is mom and a few nannies would wash his mouth out with soap when he swore. Alfred is not happy when he hears that, but again, not Bruce's kid. Cass is just learning to talk with them so she doesn't know a lot of swears. When she does learn them, Alfred really can't get made because it just shows him how much progress she's made.

So thanks to Tim and Cass, swearing in the manor is free reign. Dick and Jason are a little jealous of their sibings that didn't have to get lectures about swearing tho...

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"

Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.

If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did. 

The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him. 

But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband. 

It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose. 

The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake. 

A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day. 

You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.

There is a line across your forehead. 

Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there. 

Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.

You have a wrinkle. 

The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?

A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?

The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles. 

A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go. 

“Babe?”

Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.

A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.

“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. 

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”

Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame. 

“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”

It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together. 

“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this. 

“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”

At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.

None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.

“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper. 

Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”

“Because it means I-I’m old.”

Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head. 

“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”

“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. 

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”

“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.

“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead. 

“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”

His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap. 

“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”

Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”

When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh. 

“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”

Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s. 

“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”

“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason. 

A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.

“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you too—”

“Mama!”

Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.

The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.

“I called for Mama.”

A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.

“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”

[georgiapeach30513]

Two Good Reasons, Part 8

Summary: something is happening

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, playful degradation, mentions of divorce, mentions of neglect, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, Scott, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.7K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“NaNa?” Suede looks up from the toys he’s playing with pointing down the hallway to your bedroom. Desperately trying to get Andy to wake you up, “Mama and Dee seep?”

“Yes, buddy,” Suede huffs a bit. Crossing his arms over his chest before his mouth flattens out, and he returns to his playing. Andy watches him a moment before looking back at the game on tv. Suede looks back down the hallway before pouting up at Andy, “Suedey, what’s wrong?”

“Me pee,” he says, rocking his body back and forward.

“In your diaper?” He shakes his head no, looking towards the bathroom, and he jumps up. His feet bounce around a bit before he jumps, holding himself. “Okay. Come on,” Andy stands up, and walks quickly towards Suede, “Let’s go, buddy.”

“Mama be mad?” His brows furrow as he starts bouncing around even more. Andy knows he has moments before Suede has an accident and gets upset for doing so.

“Your mama won’t be mad. Come on,” Suede holds himself as he runs towards the bathroom, and makes it to his potty just in time. He gives Andy a thumbs up, smiling so proudly at him. “You made it! Does that feel better than a diaper?”

“Chess! Me yike it. NaNa pee der?” Suede points at the bigger toilet, and Andy nods his head, “Me, too?”

“One day. And you’ll get to stand.”

“No,” Andy nods his head yes. “No, no.”

“Has your dad never,” he stops his question when Suede scrunches his nose up. Andy approaches the boy carefully. A child with so very little vocabulary, and still so young, but clearly Scott hadn’t been teaching him anything about pottying.

“Tay.”

“Taylor?” Suede nods his head, and Andy wonders what his limited words are trying to tell him. He’s noticed that you don’t ever press your children about time at their dad’s, so he doesn’t want to either. But he wonders if Taylor is the one that deals with bathroom or diaper duty, “You done?”

“Chess! My mama at?”

“She and Audrey are taking a nap,” Suede dramatically rolls his eyes at Andy, and pulls up his pants. “Audrey has a bit of a cold, and your mama is tired.”

“Ways seep!” He rolls his eyes again, starting to stomp out of the bathroom.

“Hands, Suede,” Andy’s voice is soft, but demanding. It’s not a question, it’s what Suede has to do.

“Ugh,” groaning, he gets on the stool, grunting as he reaches for the soap.

“I know mama has been needing some extra sleep lately, but it happens to everyone,” Suede shakes his head no, starting to play more in the water than washing his hands. “Yes, they do. Your mom works hard, she loves you and sissy harder, and…”

“Ove oo.”

“Yes, she loves me, too. Are you finished?” Suede giggles as Andy picks him up to use the towel. He swings him around until he’s sitting on his hip, and he peeks into the bedroom, and you’ve still got Audrey tight against your body. Your nose buries into her watermelon scented hair, and she clings just as tightly to you.

Suede gets one look at you and growls, “Now, you’ve got to share time with your mom. You could have taken a nap, too, and you said no. You want to nap?”

“No,” shaking his head no, he points at Andy’s chest. Sputtering out words before sighing. Once Andy gets into the living room, he points at the tv.

“You want to watch the game or Bluey?”

“Oo Oo,” that settled that. He yawns, and Andy chooses to ignore it, if you bring up nap to Suede, he’ll refuse it just to spite you. Still holding him he walks into the kitchen. Grabbing himself a beer, and a cup of watered down juice for Suede. “Nack, pease,” his speaking has immensely improved. Suede has slowly been able to put words into sentences.

“A snack. Hmm. What about your fruit salad? No strawberries, and no..?”

“Pies,” pineapples. Close enough. “NaNa, my ove oo,” he lays his head on Andy’s chest, snuggling in a bit tighter. He always tells fibs about being sleepy. Sleepy Suede, is more cuddly loving Suede.

“I love you, too, buddy. You ready to watch some Bluey?”

“Chess!” But his ’yes’ is just a little bit softer, and he never lifts his head off Andy’s chest.

—

You yawn, looking down at your daughter who rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Audrey looks up at you, giving you a sleepy smile, “Did you sleep as hard as mommy?”

“Uh huh,” she sits up in the bed, stretching big. “I like this new bed. Can we see what Andy and Suedey are doing,” she jumps out of the bed immediately, but waits for you to stretch, too. Going behind her, you scoop her up in your arms to blow raspberries all over her, but stop when you walk into the living room.

This is the sight you’ve always wanted to see; a sticky-faced little boy snuggled up against his dad’s chest, while both of them are passed out. The comfort that Suede feels with Andy matches the way he feels about you. You have no fears when he’s with Andy. You know that Andy has his allergies memorized, but also checks the list that’s on the fridge constantly.

He wanted to watch some football, but opted for Bluey so Suede could fall asleep. He agreed to stay up a bit longer with Suede, spend some one on one time with him, while you and Audrey were already piled up and snuggled. Sunday naps are your favorite for a reason.

“They’re sleeping,” Audrey looks at you with a big smile. You know she enjoys seeing Suede being happy and more content here. She shouldn’t have to worry about her brother, but she does. The best big sister you could have asked for. “Suedey likes Andy a whole whole lot.”

“So does Audrey, huh?” She giggles, nodding her head. “How about mommy and Audrey get a snack, and you can play at the table while mommy makes dinner?” She nods again, while you look back at Andy and Suede. He makes your ovaries ache. Seeing how good he is with children that aren’t his, you know this man deserves someone of his blood. You don’t know how, but you’ll make it happen.

You honestly can’t even wait to spend all these holidays with Andy and the kids. Biting on your lip, you glance at the family calendar, knowing it’s past time to ask Scott if you can go back to Michigan with the kids to spend time with your family for Thanksgiving. It was your weekend to have them. Scott hadn’t told you about plans with Taylor’s family, or if he was even interested in seeing them on the holiday.

You didn’t want to travel for Christmas, but Andy had the time off for Thanksgivng. You had the time off. You missed your family, and wanted them to see Andy with your babies. Let them see how much the kids have grown, and also a grownup Andy. Your mom obsessively talked about him. Even told you on your wedding day you should try and find Andy again because you were making a mistake. Mom’s always know best. And your mom definitely knew.

“Mommy?” You look up from slicing the vegetables for a roast, letting Audrey know she has your attention, “I think I messed up.”

“Why’s that?” She bites on her lip, looking more like you every day, even with her mannerisms. Audrey looks down at the PlayDoh she’d been kneading, and looks down the hallway towards the living room. “Audi? Is everything okay?”

“I called Andy daddy,” she sighs, and finally looks up at you. You meet her with a smile on your face. You and Andy hadn’t found the time or the way to bring up that comment. “It was at donuts for dad, and I just think I got confused. My head was all mushy, and I didn’t mean it. But I liked having him there, and showing my room. You’re the only one that’s seen it.”

Her face falls to sadness, and you lay down the knife. Walking around the counter island to hug her, “Sweet girl, Andy and I aren’t mad.”

“But what about my daddy? Are you going to tell him?” You weren’t. But eventually if Audrey kept feeling comfortable with Andy, and letting that title slip, he would know.

“Do you want me to?” She shakes her swiftly, and buries herself into your chest. “No. But I also think you should call Andy whatever feels natural. You naturally called him that because at that moment that’s what he felt like to you. Baby, Andy adores and loves you, and doesn't not care what you call him. Unless it’s something like poppy head,” Audrey giggles, finally lifting up from your body.

“What about daddy?” She pouts. No matter what, this little girl adores her dad, and she’s already over concerned about Scott’s opinion. “Won’t he be mad?”

“We don’t have to tell daddy if you don’t want to. Daddy never has to know. I don’t want you to stress about this. You’re four, almost five,” Scott is going to keep on and turn your precious child into a neurotic clam.

Her little fingers pet over your shirt, looking like she’s up to something. Her sly smile is so cute that you just want to give her a hard kiss on her cheek. “Can we go to Paris for my birthday?”

“No,” you answer quickly. Traveling out of the country with ‘Scott’s children’ would be out of the question. Going to Paris before her birthday would be even more so with planning alone. “Pick somewhere else to go.”

“Nini and Poppy’s?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do for Thanksgiving. What about something around here?”

A finger taps on her chin, humming so sweetly while she thinks. “Can we go to the aquarium, and soft play, and then pizza, and then go to a movie?”

“I think that sounds like a magical day. Who do you want to go?”

“Our family,” you want to squeeze her so tight. Her sweetness comes out of her, and you need to preserve these little moments. “You, and me, and Suedey, and Andy,” you nod your head. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before placing her back in her seat. She’s making you oddly over emotional, and it feels so confusing and overwhelming, and you love it.

“Audrey, you are the cutest, most sweetest little girl I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Yes, I do,” she gives you a little giggle, returning to her PlayDoh. You happen to glance at it a moment. “Is this what the judge’s bench looks like,” you finally understand Andy’s frustration with this.

“Audi, why don’t you make a cupcake instead.”

“No, I gotta learn.”

Waking up without the kids feels so awful. Yes, you have your wonderful boyfriend-fiance, and you refuse to call him fiance until he gives you a ring. And while waking up without them at home with you is better with Andy, due to the distraction, but it still sucked. The only good thing is having Andy prance around nearly naked.

He loves to keep the doors locked, the blinds closed, and walk around with his cock out all day. It’s like he’s teasing you. And you have no problem partaking. He really likes it when you’re naked or at least topless. Especially topless cooking, like now.

You’re being cheeky teenagers again, except without so many restrictions. Standing over the pot of soup, you giggle as Andy comes up behind you with his hands on your tits. He looks over your shoulders softly petting around your nipple. His smile is infectious as he pebbles the sensitive skin. “You’re so,” a lewd moan ripples through your throat, and you back your ass into his cock.

“Fuck me.”

“Sensitive,” Andy gives your nipples a hard pinch, and twirls you around to look at him, and you immediately cup his cock, and he meets your energy, except he shoves two fingers into your warmth, and you whimper, “You’re fucking soaked,” he’s shocked at how ready you are for him.

“I’m fucking horny,” you whine, grinding over his fingers like a bitch in heat. You’re so needy for him right now.

“Yeah, no shit, Doe. You are leaking out, and making a mess on your thighs. What has got you worked up?” His voice is laced with so much hunger for you. My god, this man and that cock you can have whenever you want. And you want immediately. “You’re so fucking messy.”

You can’t stop it. There’s something about his voice that sounds accusatory. And you’re fucking horny. You want to have sex, you don’t want to have a lecture. The soup is simmering and not ready. The kids aren’t here. And you want to be fucked so hard you fall asleep again.

“Maybe if my boyfriend didn’t walk around the damn house with his dick swinging around,” he grimaces at the word boyfriend and the way you emphasized it. “Get hard!”

“Make me,” you’re a bit irritated at him, but not enough to refuse making him hard. You sink to your knees, and take his hardening cock into your hand. You kiss over his member. Looking up at him with the sweetest face that you can muster. You’re not sweet. You’re a goddamn whore for Andy Barber.

“You are a horny little slut, hmm?” Shimmying your shoulders, you nod your head with a smile. Sucking his cock into your mouth so you can suck and use your tongue to massage him. Moaning as he turns to steel in your mouth. “Fuck. You seriously are a master with your mouth. My fiance looks amazing just like this. Taking my cock just like she was made to do.”

What? You pull off his cock slowly, and stare up at him scowling, “What?” He asks, mouth hanging open looking at you.

“Seriously?”

He furrows his brows, and you lose patience. Leaning back on your heels, he asks that stupid question again, “What, Doe?” You don’t say anything, just move to stand. “No. You stay and talk to me. What is your deal?”

Your deal? He grabs your arm, but you shrug him off, and march away from him. “Doe!” You keep walking away from him, but he doesn’t let up. Using your real name, and it hurts for some reason. The vitriol reaction you have to hearing him say a name that everyone calls you. Doe is special to him. His little deer.

“Do not call me that, Andy Barber!”

“I seriously have no idea what is going on right now,” of course he wouldn’t. Because he didn’t understand anything. And currently neither do you.

“Ugh!” Spinning back on your heels, you walk away. Again. Heading towards the bedroom. The two of you look utterly ridiculous; you wearing nothing but cheeky panties, and him completely nude with a hard on. Serves him right. Maybe he can have blue balls because the free show is over now. He needs to gravel, and plead.

“I sound stupid!” You scream at yourself, and you fall onto the bed like a petulant child. You sound like a toddler, and still you can’t stop the weird feeling. It’s not anger as much as it’s complete frustration. You can’t make it stop. You want to be fucked. You want Andy to propose like he said he would. You want to move and live in a house that doesn’t have Scott’s name on it. You want your children to quit leaving you every other weekend.

You want Scott to quit throwing lame excuses over your head trying to scare and threaten you. You want him to stop fighting for full custody. You don’t want him to even have joint custody. You want your babies. And you want them with you and Andy.

“Baby,” Andy coos on your back. He peppers kisses all over your back, and you cry more. You’re trying to be mad at him! “Honey, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I hate him,” he doesn’t have to see your face to know your crying. Your trembling body tells him.

“That’s not what set this off. Tell me what made you angry at first,” was it not Scott? Or is everything just rushing at you at once?

“You’re a liar,” you sound like a child. Audrey doesn’t whine as much as you are.

“I am not.”

“You said you were going to propose for real, and you haven’t,” make it stop. Go back to blaming Scott. You sound like an entitled asshole. Andy said he had a ring, and he said he was going to propose, and he will.

“I called you my fiance,” his voice is so soft, and understanding, but it kind of ticks you off again, and you try to resist. You don’t want to make things worse.

“And I hate it here. I hate that he takes our babies away every other weekend, and I only get to see their faces a little bit. Or when Suede tries to text from his ‘mini’ iPad, and it’s just emojis. And I love that you help him potty. And I’m so horny,” Andy chuckles on your back. He uses his feet to push legs apart.

His thick fingers start teasing through your weeping cunt, and another alarm goes off, “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“You just said you were horny, so I’m going to fuck you, and then we can talk about everything else like adults.”

“You fuck me from behind to much,” he growls. Actually growls on your body. “Andy!” His hands grip you tight before flipping you over on your back, and stepping in between your legs. He moves aside your panties, and you know how stupid it sounds inside your head, but you can’t stop it. “Are you seriously trying to fuck me like some bitch you met at the club without taking her panties off?”

He gives you the most angry grin you’ve ever seen. Tight lipped and irritated when he rips the damn things off, “Those were my favorite panties.”

“No, they weren’t,” you gawk at him. “No. No, they weren’t. Your favorite ones are those pink ones. They cover your full ass, and there’s something about the way they just don’t move on your body, so you’re not tugging them around all day,” you really gawk at him. He’s right. “And when we sleep, your ass cheeks hang out just the tiniest bit and I want to bite each one. So not only are they comfortable on you, they look amazing on, or on the floor.”

Andy crashes into your whiny ass warmth, and your back lifts off the bed. “Now, I don’t know what set you off, or why you’re being so unreasonable but I want to talk about it.”

“I want you to fuck me!” He pulls himself all the way out before slamming into so hard. “Fuck me!”

“I am!” He does it again. And again until your eyes start to crash. “I am your partner, and I want to listen to what’s bothering you.”

“Everything!” He stalls his movements, before leaning over you. His hands in a fist to hold his weight off you just enough. But you want to feel him on you. You want to feel that slight pressure and weight, and know that he’s there, “Everything. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know how to talk about it. I spent so many years sucking up my problems because I didn’t have a real job, and he did. You don’t want to hear about my problems because you’re busier than me.”

“I do,” you shake your head no, but Andy grips onto your chin tightly. His hips slowly push and pull him out of your warmth. You really are a damn teenager. Can’t have an adult conversation without needing your boyfriend-fiancé’s cock inside of you, and all you can do is cry and shake your head. “Doe, I want to hear everything. We are partners. When you don’t feel well, I don't feel well. I want you to be happy because that makes my days better.”

“I don’t want him to have our babies,” you said it again without any hesitation. You want Andy to have your children. You would ask him to adopt them today if you knew it was possible.

He nods his head. His rhythm is still so steady, “The custody hearing is getting closer,” it isn’t a question, but you nod your head. He knows that’s part of what’s bothering you, “Honey, I’m not going to let anyone take the kids from us.”

“You can’t promise that,” Andy leans forward, and kisses each cheek, pulling back you notice the shine on his lips. “Did you just kiss my tears away?”

“I did. That’s what I want. I want to kiss away all your tears, and I want us to be okay. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” tears steadily flow down your face, and he keeps kissing over your cheeks, and it doesn’t help. Except those tears stop hurting so much. You’re now crying because you’re so happy with the right partner. “Honey, I love you.”

“I love you,” your words bubble over. He’s so perfect, and you’re just not. You’re not a superhuman, you’re not the thinnest, the most beautiful, the smartest, but you know you’re a damn good mom, and you were a good wife to an asshole. But you could be the best wife to Andy. “I want to marry you.”

“You’ve got to get divorced first,” you snort. Finally sounding happier than sadder. He smiles, kissing you gently. “I’ll marry you the day after if that’s what you want.”

“It was always you,” you may sound silly. You two may argue over the stupidest things. But it was always him. “I’m sorry that I’m a child sometimes.”

“You’re normally not,” he bites his lip as he pounds into you quickly. “Now, hold — fucking hell!” He yells, slamming his hand on your phone. “You’re answering it.”

“You are fucking me,” giggling, you read his name, and know why Andy wants you to answer.

“And I’ll keep fucking you. So you better listen to little Scottie the first time,” whimpering, you shake your head no.

“Just finish quickly.”

“I don’t want to, I want to take my time. Answer it.”

Groaning, you click on the phone, “Hey,” Andy is an asshole. He keeps a slow rhythm into your body. “What are you needing?”

“Why do you sound sniffly?”

“My allergies have been irritating me lately,” you can feel his eyes roll, “What’s up?”

“Taylor is wanting to throw Audrey a party,” he blurts out. You don’t hate Taylor. But you don’t think Taylor is capable of throwing Audrey a birthday party either. Plus, she’s got the celebration one in her classroom, and doesn’t love large crowds. “She wants to give her a party at an event center with clowns.”

“She’s terrified of clowns, and characters in costumes,” she likes her characters 2D.

“She’s not over that yet?”

“Are you over your fear of sharks?” Scott huffs. “I’m listening. What else?” Andy pistons into your body so hard that you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep a sound of deep satisfaction from escaping. “Jerk!”

“Just have Taylor’s family,” why? “And a few kids from her classroom,” a few can range to a large number. “She wants a caterer.”

“For a five year old?” You already see what Taylor is doing. She wants her family there, so she can show off how much her boyfriend can spend on silly little things like a birthday party.

“Not everybody wants to make everything by hand like you, Ms. Perfect,” you know Andy is aware of everything that Scott is saying. It’s why he grits his teeth as he pounds into your body balls deep, and lets the tip of his cock settle against your cervix sweetly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” just having the best sex with the deepest penetration.

“You’re panting.”

“I just got off the treadmill,” just getting fucked.

“Honey, it’s not baby weight anymore, Suede is two,” another harsh move into you, and Andy’s face starts to turn red. Angry with Scott’s unnecessary harsh words.

“She wants to go to Paris.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not paying for that shit.”

You roll your eyes. Scott seriously didn’t understand, nor were you asking him to pay for anything. “She’s obsessed with Madeline. Why not do a Parisian theme. But for fuck’s sake, can the two of you make sure that Suede can have everything there? You know how kids are.”

“You could keep him that day.”

Andy bites your neck slightly too hard, “Ow.”

“What?” Andy growls on your skin. “Oh god, did I upset Andrew?” No, he’s pissing you off.

“You upset me. Either Suede goes, or you don’t need to throw a party for Audrey,” he starts to say something, but you speak louder, “That’s his sister, and you know the special bond that they have. Either you include Suede in the festivities, or you don’t do it. Audrey will want to talk about it, and it won’t be fair to our son.”

“He’s fucking two years old, he won’t remember it.”

You lift up on your elbows, throwing all caution to the wind when you grab Andy’s ass, and pull him deeper into you. You wink at your fiance. “Do you think he doesn’t know the disdain that you have for him? How you won’t even spend the goddamn time to help him pee in the potty while he’s there? Do you think Audrey doesn’t tell me about the giggling you and Taylor did when he cried because he had an accident that smelled. Shit stinks, you asshole. Even your precious Taylor’s. So either you have a party that Suede can fully be a part of, or don’t bother throwing a party that she doesn’t even want anyways.”

Andy moans, and Scott whispers an expletive. You hope that Scott knows that you’re getting ground into with the biggest cock right now. Andy pushes into you faster. Harder. “Is there a problem, Scott?”

“You can be a bitch sometimes. Just didn’t realize it until after we split.”

“And you can be an asshole sometimes. I always knew it, but I overlooked it for some reason. And if I ever hear about you and Taylor making a comment about Suede’s shitty diaper again…” Andy pushes into you so hard, your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can’t make threats. “He’s a baby, and we are teaching him to potty train. If you don’t want to change diapers, do the same at your house.”

“He’s with you more.”

“Consistency is the key. Is that all?” His side is silent, minus the heavy breathing. You can hear his finger tapping on something. His annoying fucking habit when he gets angry. Fucking asshole. He’s a little bitch. Having to make a two year old feel bad for an accident in his diaper to make him feel superior.

“Audrey shouldn’t — are you,” he pauses. You’ve stunned him into silence, and he doesn’t even know what to say, “What do you want?”

“I want you to treat both our children the same. I want you to treat Suede like he’s your son, and that you love him. I want you to be just as proud of him as you are of Audrey. I want you to stop pushing the responsibilities of our children onto Taylor. I want my son to come home happy. I don’t want him to see me, and not want to let go of me for a few hours. Mmm,” Andy really is an asshole for pushing into you so deep that you can’t stop the sound of bliss.

Scott knows. He knows that Andy is giving it to you so good, and when you get off the phone that Andy is going to fuck you like a slut. “Andy told you to write,” he sighs. Yes, Andy and you have been writing down every indiscretion to your children that he does, “I just can’t connect with him.”

“What are you saying?” Your fingers dig into Andy’s ass. You're angry. You’re pissed. You’re ready to kill your ex.

“I don’t,” he’s choosing his words carefully. You wish he would just rip the bandaid off. “He’s not an easy child. Audrey is. I had bonding time with her. And then…”

“And then my postpartum depression cramped your sex life. And then our son became the number one man in my life. And then our son was sick all the time. You never even tried to connect with him. You never even noticed that I was drowning. All you cared about was getting your dick wet. So my advice to you is to make sure you don’t knock Taylor up, because you can’t handle anything with a penis being put above you. Is that all?”

“Fuck you. You are so self righteous. You act like you’re the perfect fucking parent, and nobody is ever going to compare to you. I hope Andy enjoys trying to please someone who is impossible to please,” you moan again. Having to bite on Andy’s arm. “You fucking slut. How dare you fuck that asshole while you’re talking to me!”

“My fucking slut,” Andy grunts before reaching to your phone, and ending the call. “After this court hearing, and when it’s determined about the kids,” he stops himself. His thrusts are angry. “Do you realize I want to,” you cover his mouth with your hand, shaking your head.

“Do not say that. I just want our,” you smile at him, letting him know that it’s not an accident when you say our, “babies. Oh god,” he ruts into you, and your body becomes soft for him. Pliable to his every move, and you stare at the man that didn’t even have to try, and he reached your ‘impossible’ standards. Scott is wrong. And you’re never going to allow him to hurt your self esteem ever again.

The only thing you want is to know that your babies are safe, and in a loving environment. And if he can’t provide that for them, he might as well just give up trying to fight for them. He only fights for them because it hurts you. But his fight is becoming stale. The only thing he’s holding onto is his pride. Knowing that Audrey could be his legacy, and never thinking that his son could. He wants you to hurt. He wants to shove something in Andy’s face. And all at the expense of his children.

One of these days, he’ll give up on the fight. And when he does, you know that Andy won’t hesitate to pick up those pieces, and be willing to adopt both children, and legally become their father. It’s in knowing a man. It’s knowing that even when you’re acting ridiculous in an argument, that Andy isn’t going to stop. That he’s not going to make some snarky comment that kills your self worth.

He crashes his lips into yours, and the two of you pant. Breathing in each other’s air. Entangling your bodies together in the most beautiful sin. One of these days you won’t have to worry about these conversations. You won’t have to worry about the bane of your existence. You’ll be able to sleep every other weekend because you know that your children are in a safe home.

He presses his forehead against yours while he drives his cock into you so hard. Fusing his body with yours. You can’t look away from his beautiful eyes. Can’t think of anything more besides the fact that Andy is the most beautiful human. Andy is the epitome of a perfect man. Not just in looks, even though he really is the best. But the fact that he isn’t toxic, and he’s all man.

His eyes darken, and his body tightens, “I’m there, Andy.”

“I know, honey,” his salacious moan has your body setting on fire. He’s so vocal during sex that you never have to worry if it truly feels good for him, or if you’re just ‘doing your wifely duties’. “I feel your walls pulsing around me. Squeezing me so tight. Let. Go,” breathing him in, you let every wall fall down as euphoria races through you. Your cunt clenches down around him, and you mewl out his name. Thick. Hot ropes of cum shoot into your pussy, and Andy’s body melts on top of your own.

You just breathe. You soak him all up. Every last drop of him. This will be the one that takes. You know it will be. You furrow your brows as you look up at the ceiling. Counting in your head. Are you even ovulating? Are you…?

“Hey,” he pops up from your chest, smiling, and you forget all the counting. He’s so pretty after sex. “Tomorrow when we go to pick up the kids. There’s somewhere special I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Andy!”

“Doe!”

“Daddy!” He covers your mouth with his hand.

“Woman, being called daddy by you is not my thing. I know you’re doing it to make me cringe. But I just had the best sex of my life, and pissed off a little wanna be man in the process. Let me revel in that fact, and also the fact that your cunt is so full of me that your eyes are swimming,” you shake your head no. His hand is still covering you, but he knows you're smiling.

“Yeah, you’re swimming in Andy cum and Andy dick.”

“I love swimming in Andy.”

“Andy just loves you,” and with that, he kisses you softly. Savoring the different taste of you after sex. He could tell you about all the things that are different about you, but he’ll save it. He won’t be able to save it for too much longer. You’re just being too silly and stressed to realize.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy @hisredheadedgoddess28

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Trouble: cbf!soap x reader

Johnny always got into trouble, though mostly because he was doing the right thing but in a way that was less conventional.

You’d lost count of how many fights he had gotten into because someone was being picked on or someone had been acting so rude he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He always had a problem with speaking out against injustice whenever he saw it. He just couldn’t help but advocate against it.

He had more detentions on his record than anyone you knew but his high grades kept him from being suspended or expelled.

But besides his willingness to get into altercations when necessary, he also tended to get himself hurt often.

In the eighth grade he had a wonderful idea involving his bike.

“You have to wear a helmet!” You forced it onto his head.

“You’re worse than me mam.” He rolled his eyes but complied. “I don’t need the helmet because I’m not going to crash.”

You shook your head, eyeing the strange set up he had made.

A makeshift ramp to make it over a ditch that was pretty wide and steep. Johnny was your best friend but you had little faith that he would be able to jump across it without either hurting himself or breaking his bike.

You could only think about the million different ways this could end, and he could probably die.

“Johnny, I don’t know about this.”

“Don’t worry, bonnie. I’m an expert.”

Johnny was not an expert.

He ended up with a cast for the rest of the summer, which had put him in a bad mood. Once he got out of the ER, you were right by his side ready to remedy his grumpiness.

“Casts are cool.” You tried but he pouted.

“Cannae do anything with it on.” He grumbled as the two of you got into his mom’s car.

Once you were back home the two of you decided to stay away from any bikes and ramps.

“Can I sign it?”

“Obviously…did I look cool?”

You laughed as you signed his cast, oblivious to the slight blush on his features.

“Very cool.”

Junior year he made a promise.

It was a promise to himself, a wish that you’d always be by his side even when he was gone. He’d hold on to something of yours or maybe he’d send letters, something of you he could have when he was in basic training.

He was at the lake when it happened. It was just after you spoke to him about why he wanted to go and he felt…empty.

The damage of him forgetting you had sunk deep within you, and you basically told him that you expected to happen the moment he went away.

He didn’t want to believe that was true. He’d never forget you, in fact, he was sure you were the only thing that was going to keep him going when he left.

His mind had been too busy, too full of thoughts and he needed to clear them.

He was going to take a dip back in the water one last time before you both left. He dove back in but failed to notice a log and busted his chin against it.

“Jesus, you could’ve drowned.” You scolded him as you frantically grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

“I wasn’t gonna drown.” He dismissed you and held the towel firmly against the stinging wound.

Johnny watched the worry on your face and frowned before wincing when pain surged through his face.

He gave you a gentle squeeze on your waist to reassure you and you looked him the eyes.

For a split second he thought about kissing you. He thought about how if he kissed you hard enough you’d understand everything that was going on in his mind. You’d understand he wasn’t trying to push you away, he just needed to get out.

He needed to prove to himself he was worth something. He needed to prove to you he was worth something.

“You might need stitches.” Your words cut off his thoughts and he realized he had been leaning close to you.

“Give it a couple washes and I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes. “Get a new scar probably.”

“You and your scars.”

“Makes me look tough!”

“Yeah and this one will show you’ve got a thick skull.”

“Hey!”

A/n: back to our regularly scheduled program of angst

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men - Drool

Requested: No

Warnings/Additional Tags: Fluffy, Pre-Established Relationships

A/N: So this is based on the fact that I have a hard time with drool. I’m not really sure why it is, maybe I just forget to swallow it because my face is always so relaxed but I’m used to a drool trail escaping once and a while and sometimes I can get really embarrassed about it (especially in front of people) so I came up with this.

Ghost

Ghost knows how you can get, so he keeps a box of tissues on him at all times. He doesn’t really think much of it, even if he didn’t understand it at the beginning of your relationship. He used to point it out to you whenever he saw it but now he just grabs a tissue, gently wipes you clean, and closes your mouth. He thinks it’s a bit cute, in an odd way, and he doesn’t mind it or helping you.

Soap

Soap doesn’t even question it at the beginning of your relationship, just simply closes your mouth for you and dabs at the drool with a cloth that he keeps on him. Eventually he just gets so used to it that he keeps another rag on him now just for your drool, this one having a pattern of a little bear, curled up and drooling as it sleeps. He thinks it’s cute and it reminds him of you.

König

König is a little bit of a germaphobe and a worry wart so in addition to carrying around tissues he has hand sanitizer and soap so to wash away any drool you get on yourself, gum so you can focus on chewing, and various snacks for the same reason as the gum. Not to mention that he’s always gently closing your mouth, pecking the corner of your lips everytime he does. Would he prefer no drool? Sure, but you drool and he loves you so he can put up with it.

Alejandro

Gonna be honest, the first time Alejandro saw you do this, he just chuckled and leaned in, licking the trail down your chin before trying to initiate sexy times. It’ll take him a minute to realize that it’s just part of who you are and your mannerisms but he will catch on eventually. He usually uses tissues to help you clean up, and kisses you softly after each time.

Rudy

Rudy is definitely confused the first few times he sees it, gently pointing it out while handing you a rag, but after a while he just accepts it as part of who you are. He’s kinda like a mom so he’ll tut at you while cleaning up your face with a damp rag, murmuring in Spanish, something about how troublesome you are (all jokingly and lovingly of course)

[captain-mj]

"Something in him told him to put it on, feeling it against his skin."

Please. Please MJ, Pretty please, I don't know how or why it would happen, but I need Ghost to put on the coat or handle it a bit more. (Preferably without knowing the implications) Love the flustered Selkie!McTavish.

Foaming at the mouth because this is my two special interests merged

~~~~

Ghost tried not to do it again. Really, really tried. But Soap was in med bay and had asked him to grab some stuff for him. And the coat was laid out on the bed. 

The feeling crept back under his skin and before he knew it, his gloves were back off, running their way their way through the fur. 

Soap tensed, the entire base away, feeling the ghost of a touch. He closed his eyes tight. “Please don’t put it on. Please don’t put it on.” 

Ghost lifted his mask, just to the bridge of his nose, and lightly pressed it to his face. It was so soft. Smelled so intensely of Soap and the sea. Salt blending with the vanilla body wash he always used. He understood why Soap found it so comforting. It felt pretty heavy too, like the weighted blanket Ghost refused to admit he had in his room. 

Soap flushed, feeling the increasingly gentle touch. “What are you doing to me, Ghost?” He shuddered. Out of all of the team, Ghost would probably be the best he supposed. He didn’t ask him many questions, so Soap wouldn’t have to worry about spilling any secrets. Only really ordered him to do things in the field. Soap would just be an exceptional soldier a couple of days. 

That instinct started at the top of his spine, begging for him to slip it on. He shouldn’t. 

Ghost shrugged off the hoodie he had been wearing and fully removed the mask. He avoided looking in the mirror as he gently slipping it on. For once, he had worn short sleeves, which was perfect. The soft fur on him made something in his brain fizzle. 

Reluctantly, he looked in the mirror. He didn’t hate what he saw. Still scarred, still too much like his Father. But it didn’t seem as bad.

Soap winced, always hating this feeling. The strings in his body tensing and wrapping around his muscles. One always trying to drag him to the sea. And now one tangled around his heart that pulled him to Ghost. It wasn’t the best of feelings normally, even worse when he already had been harboring a crush on him. 

He remembered his mom, a selkie taken from her home and forced to marry his dad, explain to him one day what it was like to have your coat stolen. 

She had spoken like it was a poem, though she had said it so sadly.

“What do you want me to be? What do you need me to be? 

I’ll be perfect at whatever you want. 

I’ll rip my heart out if you ask.

I’ll be your guard. I’ll be your wife. I’ll bleed myself dry.”

They didn’t get a choice. Soap had his coat taken before. Once he found it, he joined the army to get far, far away. He was too human to just fuck off and be a seal. 

Wanted to sometimes. 

Soap closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. His injured leg and the bullet wound in his side meant he couldn’t go to Ghost. He’d take any orders he was given, like always. He just hoped Ghost was kinder than the previous coat holder. 

Ghost gathered everything up while still wearing a coat. He put his mask on and then, with great reluctance, took off the coat. He folded it carefully and gently before putting it on top of the clothes and blanket that Soap had requested. Soap would be stuck in medical a couple of days so he thought it would be nice to have. 

Ghost didn’t knock, Soap would be expecting him back, and he almost laughed when the heart monitor sped up. He dropped the things on his lap.

“There you go.” 

Soap stared at the coat for a second, freezing. “What?”

“I saw it and thought you’d want it.” Ghost wasn’t going to admit to the crime of putting it on. 

Soap flushed bright red but didn’t pick it up. Ghost frowned at him and pushed it to his chest to show him what else he got. Soap wrapped his arms around it and flushed more. 

“Thanks, Simon.” 

“No problem, Johnny.” Ghost patted his head without thinking. “Feel better soon, yeah?”

Soap nodded dumbly and Ghost eventually left.

Soap got his phone and immediately called his mom.

“A bhobain! How are you?”

“Máthair. Are you able to talk?” Soap said it softly and she immediately became more serious. 

“Yes. Are you okay? Your coat is it safe?” She switched to Gaelic and he followed suit. 

“You know that... guy I had a crush on?”

“Oh no.”

“He gave it back. Physically pushed it back in my hands.”

“Oh no...” 

“Are we married now?”

[medusapelagia]

27 We’ll find a way

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:"I thought we agreed it was over.") and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt:Younger/De aged) @aug-kissed (prompt: Chocolate Kiss) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: no one Words: 2280

The white van is still parked in his driveway even though Eddie promised him he would never bother him again. Not after they yelled at each other so many cruel things out of jealousy.

Steve sighs loudly. Not only is it parked in front of his house, but it’s parked so badly that he can’t even get his car inside his garage.

Fucking Eddie Munson who knows no boundaries and doesn’t mean what we have to stop means.

“Eddie, I thought we agreed it was over!” Steve sighs, “Can you move your stupid van from my driveway, you fucking moron? I can’t even park my car!”

A little giggle surprises Steve, and a kid with a mass of black curls turns toward him, “You said a bad word. Dad is going to wash your mouth with soap.” the kid grins brushing some curls away from his face with his chubby hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” Steve asks, staring at the kid who has something awfully familiar, but Steve can’t really point out what.

“Steve! Oh, Steve! Thank god you’re here! We have a kind of a situation!” Dustin says, appearing from nowhere, his walkie in one hand and a glass of juice in the other.

“Juice! Juice!” the kid chants, running toward Dustin and gulping down the entire glass in one go, “More!”

“That’s your third, Eddie, you can’t have another! There’s already too much sugar in your blood.” Dustin reminds him, his hands on his hips in a perfect Steve’s replica.

Steve stares astonished at Dustin, unsure if asking more about how much juice that kid drank or why Dustin calls him Eddie.

“Is he back yet? I've already tried to call the shop and Keith is quite pissed… Here he is! Finally!” Max exclaims, her arms crossed in front of her chest “Where the fuck where you?” she asks aggressively.

“Where was I? I was at work, that thing that pays for all your pizzas, do you know? But why am I replying to this? I don’t have to give you any explanation. You have to give me a lot of explanations instead! Who is this? Why is he at my place? And why Eddie’s van is parked in front of my driveway!”

Dustin and Max share a look that means trouble, and then Dustin turns toward Steve, “Ok, don’t get mad, please. I’ll explain everything.  This,” Dustin says, pointing at the kid, “is Eddie. He’s here because we didn’t know where else to bring him. And his van is parked so badly because Max drove us here and she’s not the best at parking, ok?”

“You did what? You have no fucking driving license!” Steve yells, his hands on his hips.

“That’s what you got from all that?! Eddie is five years old and you’re complaining about my driving?!” Max complains, pointing at the kid who is still throwing a tantrum about the juice.

Steve turns toward the kid once more, “I don’t know which kind of prank is this but I don’t like it. Call this kid’s parents and move that stupid van. No wait. I’ll move it. Give me the keys and I’ll drive you both…”

“That’s Eddie! Ok? We… We did something, ok? And I think it was a mistake.” Dustin adds, playing with his hands, trying to avoid Steve’s stare, while Max glares at him.

“Oh, you think, huh?”

“Fuck you, Max, you weren’t even playing!”

Steve pinches his nose, he has seen many strange things in the last few years but this is something even he wasn’t expecting, “Can someone explain what the heck happened?”

“Ok. Ok. So… we were playing DnD at the trailer park, ok? Just the party. And El. And Max. And…” Dustin points to the kid who has finally stopped complaining about the juice and is stuffing his mouth with Steve’s mom's fancy Italian chocolate, “And Mike thought it was fun to add some spice to our game, so El started moving the miniatures, and she was doing a great job! I mean seeing the barbarian fight for real was really cool! Anyway, not the point, sorry. Well, Eddie grabbed a figurine while El was casting her power and she accidentally slipped into Eddie’s mind. We didn’t think too much of it, you know, just a little bit of checking what was going on in Eddie’s mind, but something went wrong and now Eddie is five, El collapsed and Owens isn’t answering.”

Steve plops on the couch, “So let me get this right. You were playing a table game and then you decided that using El’s power to play was a good idea?”

“Yeah?”

Fucking kids. They’ll be the death of him.

Steve brushes a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm, “And we’re one hundred percent sure this is Eddie, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Maybe. I don’t know! I mean everything happened so quickly! One moment Eddie was talking about our next mission and the next El was on the ground and little Eddie was there.”

Once the chocolate is finished, little Eddie finally looks at Steve and smiles brightly, his entire face covered in black chocolate.

Steve sighs once more, grabbing the kid by the arm, “Come with me, we have to clean that face. Let’s go.”

Little Eddie tries to escape from Steve’s grip, but even if he’s not hurting him his grip on Eddie’s arm is strong and steady.

Once they get to the bathroom the kid shrieks as if Steve is torturing him, but he’s just cleaning his face.

“Stay still, little hooligan! Come on, I just want to clean your face.” Steve complains, but instead of making everything simpler, Eddie keeps trying to escape from Steve’s hold and even leaves a trail of chocolate kisses on him.

“I’m clean now, right?” he grins while Steve strips off his now dirty polo with a sigh but still manages to clean Eddie’s face.

When they get out of the bathroom it is already late, so Steve looks at the other two kids, “What now? What’s your big plan? Huh?”

“Leaving him here with you?”

“What?!”

“We can’t leave him alone and we can’t say to his uncle that his nephew has magically turned into a five-year-old!” Max reminds him, annoyed.

She’s not wrong but Steve really would like not to be the person everyone comes to when they don’t know how to fix their fucking shit.

“Steve? You’re not angry, are you?” Dustin asks quietly.

Of course, he’s angry, and worried, and has no fucking idea what to do with a five-year-old, but he can’t kick him out and he can’t leave him alone in the trailer, so he stands up, grabs his keys, and calls the three boys, “I’m going to drive both of you home and then… I don’t know. I’ll come up with something. Now let’s go.”

***

Once both Max and Dustin are back home, Steve turns toward the curly boy in the back of his car, “I hope you like pizza.” he mutters, while he places his order, and then he turns on the television. 

Like a little cat, Eddie gets on the couch, making himself comfortable against the armrest and occupying way too much space with his little body, watching a movie that’s definitely for kids older than him, but Steve has too many problems at the moment so he doesn’t care too much about it.

He feels uncomfortable, Eddie and he just split up.

It was consensual, more or less, but still, he practically kicked him out of his house two days before just to have a younger version of him standing in his living room.

Fucking kids.

Eddie is a messy eater, he keeps eating with his eyes glued to the television, getting tomatoes on his ratty t-shirt, and Steve is already thinking that he’ll have to convince the kid to have a shower before going to bed when he hears Eddie call his name and turns abruptly.

It’s not the first time the kid calls him, as soon as he learned his name he started to call him no stop just to annoy him, but this time the voice sounds scared, so Steve leaves the plates in the sink and runs back to the living room with the yellow gloves still on.

“You ok?” Steve asks, looking around for any kind of threat.

“Steve.” the kid calls again, “What… what happened to me?” 

This time the teenage boy looks at the kid with more intent and notices that he’s staring at his arms as if he didn’t recognize them.

“Eddie?”

“Steve? What… what the fuck! Did I… Did I shrink?!”

“Oh fuck. Ok, don’t panic. You and the kids had a very terrible idea but we’re going to find a solution soon.

“What… What kind of idea?”

“Making DnD more realistic using El’s powers. And something went wrong. But don’t panic. We’re trying to contact Owens and we’ll fix this, ok?”

“How?! How Steve?! How are we going to fix this?!” Eddie yells in his little voice and that’s the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I don’t fucking know, Eddie! Because I’m the boring boyfriend who wants to clip your wings instead of being supportive or some shit like this! Still! Guess where the fuck are you now that you and your amazing ideas fucked up again?!”

Unable to control his feelings, little Eddie’s lower lips start to wobble and he begins to cry silently.

“Oh, fuck. Don’t cry. Ok? Don’t cry. We’ll find a way to get you back to normal, we always do, right?” Steve whispers, kneeling next to Eddie and hugging him tight.

Ok, some painful words were exchanged but Steve loves Eddie, and even if maybe Eddie’s right and they’re too different to last, he won’t leave him in this mess.

“We’ll find a way,” he promises again, while Eddie clings to him, hiding his face in the crock of Steve’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean it. It’s just… you always talk about the kids, how you can’t leave them, and you never think about me. And I was hurt. And I want you to hurt too. But it wasn’t fair. I know that you’re doing your best to handle everything and it was a shitty move on my part. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

An apology isn’t exactly what he was expecting from Eddie, especially not from a kid who looks like five. Maybe Steve could have been more kind to him as well. God, Steve isn’t good at this feelings thing, none ever taught him how to deal with emotions and he’s doing his fucking best, even if he probably fucked up more than once.

“I’m sorry too, Eddie.” Steve whispers in the black mass of curls, “I didn’t mean that I’m not going to follow you, only that I needed more time and that I couldn’t make a decision in a split-second, but you were already saying that if I didn’t want to come with you it was better to end things and… I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry.”

Once the little body between his arms stops sobbing, Steve wipes away the tears from his huge eyes and suggests going to bed, “This day was long enough, don’t you think?”

***

It’s the phone’s ring that wakes Steve. Little Steve is still sleeping in his bed, his feet on the pillow and his head on the wrong side of the bed, his body entangled between the blankets and the sheets.

Steve quietly moves down the stairs, grabbing the phone and yawning loudly before answering.

It's Hopper, who asks him if Eddie is still there and if he can bring El over to fix the mess they did.

Steve immediately agrees and goes to the kitchen to prepare some Eggos and pancakes for the kids, even if seeing Eddie almost drown in his t-shirt is fun, he can’t wait to have the older version back.

When El and Hopper arrive, Eddie is eating his pancakes, sitting on a chair with a couple of pillows under his butt.

“Supergirl!” he greets her, “Can you fix this? Being a kid isn't as fun as I remembered!” Eddie complains while Jane apologizes profusely and promises not to use her power to play anymore.

They sit in the living room, eyes closed, and hand in hand. A little drop of blood from Eleven’s face tells Steve that she's doing her best, and then a bright light blinds him for a moment.

When Steve opens his eyes, Eddie is back to his old self, and El is cleaning the blood from her face.

“I wanted to move your miniatures back in time.”

“But you move me instead.”

She nods, adding a soft “Sorry.”

They hug in the living room while Hopper asks for some coffee.

“Fucing kids,” Hopper complains.

“Don’t tell me,” Steve replies, and they both giggle at the idea that they are complaining like old parents.

“Can you keep an eye on Munson today? Just to be sure everything is back to normal?”

“Normal? Eddie? Are you kidding me?” Steve snorts, but he nods “Yeah. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“He’s a good guy. A bit too loud, but a good guy.” Hopper tells him, and Steve has the feeling he means more than he’s saying, but he nods quietly.

In the living room, Eddie has found some old VHS and he’s yelling to Steve to come and watch it together.

They still have a lot to talk about, honestly, but if they can face interdimensional monsters and time travel together, they can probably survive a long-distance relationship.

[cam1lla]

My mom washed my mouth out with soap exactly once in my childhood and it was not traumatic at all really I was delighted by what a classic experience it was. Like when you see a Dalmatian in a fire truck or go to the grocery store with just milk, eggs, and butter on your list. Just classic. Back to basics. Would never do that to my own child tho.

[spideycatt]

Hair Day || M.M x BlackBoho!Reader

Oneshot

Synopsis:

You do Miles' hair, to say he's tenderheaded is an understatement... (can be read as 1610 or 42 Miles)

Word Count: 1.4K

Song Recs: Dangerous // Meek Mill, Trust // Brent Faiyaz, 2AM // SZA, My Boo // Usher

Warnings: Fem Reader, Reader has a potty mouth (use of the word nigga like 3 times), use of aave (mainly reader, some miles), smoking dojaaaa, shot-gunning, reader has locs, banter, suggestive jokes (Miles is a jokester y'all), reader is black (cuz some of y'all can't read), no spanish bc I'm rusty with it rn :(

I think that's it lol. lmk if I missed something!!

[not proofread]

"I was in love with you when we were younger, you were myyyy, my boo." You sang and nodded your head to the beat of "My Boo," playing off your speaker, bracelets dangling together as you got all your hair products together. Miles texted you a couple of hours ago asking if you could wash and braid his hair for him since his mom was at work. That leaves you here now, on the floor, searching for your mousse under your bathroom sink.

"You know, seeing you like this is funny.."

You jumped and hit your head on the cabinet (ouchie) as you heard your boyfriend's voice suddenly behind you. Whipping your head around to glare at the tall boy, quick to fuss at him. "Bro, who told you you could just pop up whenever you wanted without texting first?"

"Uhm, first of all, I'm not your bro," He said, pulling you off the ground. "And I did text baby, but it seems like you were away from the phone." He finishes as he tries to put a small peck to your lips, but you move your head to the side. "Damn, baby. It's like that now?"

"Nigga don't play with me. You fucking made me hit my head, so yeah, it's like that," you answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "How'd you even get in?" you wondered aloud, quickly getting your answer as you glanced at your now open window. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. You should start locking that."

"As if that shit would stop you."

"You got me there." He chuckled, looking at you walk to change the song on your phone. 2 AM by SZA starts playing. "Whatya looking for anyway?" your boyfriend questions you. "Mousse, you said you wanted braids, right?" You reply, looking at him over your shoulder as he nods. "Gimme a sec. I'm gonna go ask my mom if she has some," you uttered before leaving the room. Miles took a second to take in your room; it's been a while since he's been in here since you both have been busy with school and work. He missed the smell of your incense burning and the after-smell of the weed you almost always smoked before he got there. You snap him out of his trance as you walk back into the room with the mousse you'd been searching for.

"Aight lil' nigga get in the bathroom," You pat him on the shoulder. "Shirt off, too."

"Oh?" he smirked.

"Miles."

"Right."

You made quick work of setting the towel on the floor and another on the edge of the tub, having a feeling he was gonna wet everything up. "Okie-dokie on your butt." You say as you stand over him, removing your wrist jewelry and putting your locs up in a bun. He looks up at you with a weird smug look on his face. "Y'know, you standing over me like that reminds me of-"

"Don't een finish that sentence." You cut him off with a pointed look.

"Right."

"C'mon baby, lean your head back, and scoot down a lil bit. You know you tall." You guide him while turning on the faucet.

"You're really pretty.." he whispered, looking up at you getting the shampoo and conditioner. You chuckled while kicking off your long skirt to reveal shorts underneath, "Thanks, Miles."

Squirting shampoo on your hands, you lean over to massage it into Miles' scalp thoroughly, moving onto the ends once you finished soaping up his roots. You move one hand to fix your shirt, not doubting that your cleavage is all in your boyfriend's face. Not that he would complain.

It seems like you might've tugged your hand away from Miles' hair too quickly, making him hiss with a slight wince.

"Mami, at least try to be gentle." He whined loudly, bringing his hands up to latch onto your thigh.

"Boy, if you don't get ya ass off me while I'm trying to finish this! Stop being a baby, and it's not my fault you're so damn tender-headed."

"Rude..."

You rinse out his hair a little gentler this time, getting the wide tooth comb out to detangle his hair.

"Aight, just gotta detangle and condition it, and we'll be done!" You smiled and leaned down to peck his cheek. "Be good. This might hurt. If you start screaming and hollering, imma pop you."

And boy, did he get popped—a lot.

"Miles, calm down. This is the last section!" You laughed, tears coming down your face as you watched your boyfriend act like a little kid getting their hair done for the first time. He glared at you as a singular tear started to roll down his cheek. He wiped it quickly, though.

You finally finish conditioning the last section of your boyfriend's hair and start to towel dry it, kissing all over his face as an apology for 'hurting' him.

You both make quick work of drying his hair and moisturizing it, now sitting on your bed to have a quick smoke break. "You feeling better now, baby?" You ask Miles, guiding the blunt to your mouth with your beaded joint holder and inhaling, blowing the smoke in his face while he still pouted at you.

"You got some heavy ass hands."

"Keep playin', and Ima put these 'heavy ass hands' on you." You argue as you see him eyeing the blunt in your hand.

"You want some?"

"Mhm."

You smile as you take a hit and grab his jaw, pulling him into a sweet kiss and exhaling the smoke into his mouth. He smiles, sighing into the kiss. You put the blunt down on the ashtray sitting on top of your bedside table, stretching your arms as you spoke. "Aight, c'mon, big boy, I got somewhere to be later."

He eyed you as he put a pillow on the ground to sit on, obviously wanting to say something but deciding to bite his tongue. You try to move fast, sectioning his hair into four parts gently.

Dangerous by Meek Mill plays as you finish up his second to last braid, nodding your head to the song as you mumble the lyrics. "And when I'm in it, you be maxin' on a million... And when I hit it back to back, you make me still cum," you notice Miles smirking to himself in the floor-length mirror as you finish up his last braid.

"Miles. Don't even."

"I wasn't even gonna say anything!"

"I see that damn smirk. You ain't slick." You argue as you pop his shoulder lightly with the comb. "C'mon, get up. I gotta get dressed."

"Where you even going?" He questioned you, scratching his ass as he stood up and stretched.

"First of all, ew. Gross. Act like you got some damn sense while you at my house." You roll your eyes, walking to your drawer to grab your swimsuit and cover-up. "Me and my girls are going to have a drink at the beach."

"Any boys going?" He interrogated, walking over to see what you pulled out. "You not wearing that, right?"

"Uhmm, only one guy, [friend's name]'s boyfriend. And yes, I'm wearing this. I'm not finna argue with you about it either."

He pouted. "But-"

"But nothing, Miles, it's a beach. I'm gonna wear a bathing suit." you cut him off, walking over to him as you take your top off. "I know how to take care of myself. Now go somewhere, boy."

It was clear he wanted to argue about it more but decided against it. "Alright.. take some good pics for me, ok, ma? I'mma head out. Text me when you get back home. Love ya." He said, placing a loving kiss on your lips before stepping out your window. "And lock the window before you leave!"

"I will. Bye, baby." You shook your head, shutting the window and locking it after watching Miles step off your fire escape onto the pavement below, walking away as he turned around and blew you a kiss. Of course, you blew a kiss back.

And damn, did your back and arms hurt after all that.

And the kid didn't even say thank you.

[tinkabelle24]

To Build a Home

Chapter 8: Bad Child

A/N: The altercation between Val and her mother depicted in this chapter is loosely based on an incident I had with my own mother, at sixteen.

This incident is what prompted me to write this story, four years later, to help me cope with the lingering trauma. It's been incredibly therapeutic.

TW! Physical and emotional abuse inflicted by parent onto adult child.

Masterlist / Chapter 7

---

"Hey, you. How's it going?"

"Hey, Val," Liv answered. "Yeah, fine, I guess. School's still shit-"

"Hang on, lemme put you on speaker so I can keep going with this... There. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah... What are you doing?"

"Making dinner."

"At 8 o'clock? Bit late for you, isn't it, grandma?"

"Hardy-har. I have a friend coming over; he couldn't get here any sooner."

"He?" She could hear her sister's grin through the phone.

"Hey, don't get any ideas - he's just a friend."

"You said it, not me."

Val playfully rolled her eyes. "...Any more incidents with that boy?"

"Nope. I think bein' knocked on his ass by a girl finally did the trick."

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just... I really wish you didn't need to go that far, that's all."

"Yeah, well..."

"I know, I know... I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself, though."

"Thanks, Val."

"...Where's Noah?"

"In his room - playing his game."

"I wanna say hi."

"Yep... Hey... Hey, shithead! Don’t what me. Take your headphones off. Valerie's on the phone."

"Don't call your brother that, thank you."

"Yeah, don't call me that," Noah parroted. "Hey, short-ass. How's it goin'?"

"Don't call me that, either," Val let out an exasperated sigh. "I oughta wash both your mouths out with soap..."

"Can't do that if you aren't here," Liv retorted.

Was that a passive aggressive remark, or was she still messing around?

"...How's mom?"

"She's fine," her sister answered simply.

"Where is she?"

"In the living room, watching a movie - with Steve."

"Steeeve!" Noah exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

A small smile pulled at the brunette's lips. "...Is he nice to you guys?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Liv replied. She was using the word 'fine' a lot... "Sleeps over almost every night..."

"Okay..." Val wasn't sure what else to say to that. Her first thought was to suggest her sister inform mom of her discomfort, but it'd likely do no good. She did this herself once, when they overheard mom doing... things, with another man she introduced them to literally that day. It did not go well...

"Hey, it's been forever since we've seen you. Are you coming home any time soon?"

Val could no longer hear her brother’s incessant mouse clicking in the background; Liv must've gone into another room.

"...No, I won't be coming back to the house... I can't. Not yet." She finally replied. "I've got my own place now, remember? But I'd love to see you guys sometime soon. Maybe we could meet up at Central Park after one of my shifts next week? The three of us? ...Or maybe you'd like to check out my new place? It isn't much to look at on the inside, but it has nice views."

"Are you ever gonna tell us what happened with you and mom? Mom still won't tell us anything..."

Mom keeping shit to herself? Must've thought it was pretty bad... Good.

"We had an argument."

"Well duh," Liv was growing impatient. "About what?"

"I'm sorry, Liv; I really can't say any more than that - it's adult stuff."

"Yeah, whatever..."

Val sighed wearily. "Don't be like that, please... You know I'd tell you if I could. But I can't."

"Yeah, you can; you just have to open your mouth and speak."

"I'm sorry, Liv," the eldest sister doubled down. "I'm not gonna do that-"

"Y-you can't just take off like that and not expect me to ask questions!" Liv snapped, voice breaking. "What could mom have done that was so bad that you won't talk to her, or even come to the house? I don't understand. I just want my sister back..."

That last part felt like a stab to the heart...

"Liv, I-I'm so sorry-"

"Whatever. Bye."

Click.

"Liv? Hey, Liv! ... Shit!"

Panicked, Val went to compose a message for her sister. It broke her heart to hear her cry... But what else could she say that hasn't already been said? She wasn't about to involve a thirteen-year-old in adult matters, no matter how much it upset Liv. She wanted to preserve what little innocence those kids had left...

A text notification popped up on her screen. Immediately assuming it was her sister, she opened it without checking the ID.

She really wished she had...

[So, you'll talk to the kids but not your own MOTHER??? I see how it is. You have NO IDEA how difficult our lives have become since you upped and ABANDONED us!!! I'm sorry that I hurt you but YOUR SELFISHNESS drove me to it. In case you forgot, family HELPS and SUPPORTS one another!!! All I needed was a packet of cigarettes because I hadn't had a SINGLE one in THREE DAYS and you couldn't even do that for your own MOTHER. I gave you life and raised you BY MYSELF with NO HELP from anyone!!! And this is how you repay me??? It's been TWO MONTHS and they haven't seen you. We don't even know where you're living!!! I WILL NOT put up with the silent treatment ANY LONGER!!! When you're ready to behave like an ADULT and have an actual conversation, let me know. You're VERY lucky they still want anything to do with you after what you've put them through, because this will be the last time you hear from ME!!!]

Val fought back tears as she read through the wall of text. She knew, as soon as she realised who it was, that she shouldn't have kept scrolling. But, as usual, curiosity got the better of her. Or was it hope? A hope that her mom may actually be offering an apology without a big fat 'BUT' attached to it...

Selfish.

Mom liked using that word. She said it a lot that night; the night Val fled...

Selfish-

"No. Stop it," the brunette chided herself, promptly silencing her phone and placing it face-down on the kitchen counter. She quickly wiped away her tears.

In...and out. That's it, Val.

It'll be okay...

She returned to slicing her cucumber.

A soft knocking drew Val's attention to the window - it was Raph, carrying a backpack. She expected to feel many things in that moment. Excitement, mostly. A bit of anxiety, for sure. But not this...

Not dread.

The urge to hide was overwhelming. If he asked, Val was certain she'd cry again. She didn't want to cry in front of him; not so soon after the first time...

It took everything in her to step away from the counter and approach the window.

It'll be okay, she repeated her mantra. It'll be okay...

In...and out. In...and out...

"Hey," Val greeted, stepping aside to let him in.

"Hey," Raph replied with a warm smile. She attempted imitating it. "Smells great in here. Curry?"

"Uh, yeah- no." She was already stumbling over her words. "It's, um... it's one-pot chicken and rice. I found the recipe on Tik Tok, of all places, heh. It's one of my favourites... I was just finishing up the salad..."

The terrapin quirked a brow ridge at her. Val recognised that look; it was the same one Molly levelled at her whenever her friend suspected she was hiding something.

Please, don't...

"You alright?" He asked, setting down his bag. "You seem... upset."

Keep it together.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the brunette reassured, nodding a little too enthusiastically. She could feel the tears threatening to fall, again...

"Val," he insisted gently.

Hoo boy...

"I-I was just, um..." Val croaked, her entire body trembling with adrenaline. "I, uh..." One tear became two, then suddenly they were streaming down her cheeks.

She could not keep it together...

Raph caught her wrists as she attempted hiding her face, bringing her into his arms. She practically melted into him. He held her firmly while she sobbed, about a minute or so, before she finally pulled away.

"S-sorry, let me get this shit off you..." Val sniffled as she wiped his shoulder with her sleeve. She felt calmer, more clear-headed. But now she was going to have to explain herself; it'd be unfair of her not to.

"My mom... She texted just before you arrived... It wasn't nice to read..."

Raph nodded, compressing his lips; he looked to be contemplating whether to enquire further. After some hesitation, he finally asked: “Wanna talk about it?”

"...Would you like some dinner first?”

---

They decided to eat on the roof. Val passed the food and blankets to Raph from the fire escape, then was helped up herself. Neither really spoke to the other during this time, though she could feel his concerned gaze on her throughout.

“I’d planned on staying home as long as I could, for my siblings,” Val began, once they were settled with a plate of food. “I’d been paying my part of the rent, utilities, whathaveyou, pretty much since I started working. I left school to go full-time, so I could help more... I felt I was doing everything I could for my family... But then...”

She paused to compose herself, before continuing. “...T-the morning I left, my mom asked for my card. I asked her: ‘what for?’ She told me: ‘does it matter?’ … She didn’t say anything else after that; she just left the room... I thought she’d dropped it. I left for work. When I arrived home that afternoon, she wouldn’t speak to me. Wouldn’t look at me. Just completely ignored my existence... I went into mine and my sister’s room, and..."

---

Val barely had the time to register what was coming before it literally hit her.

She shrieked as the large object struck her chest, causing her to topple backward. Fortunately, her bed broke her fall. Once the initial shock wore off, the brunette quickly realised she was holding a suitcase. Confused and alarmed, she looked up - oof.

Another smaller, lighter object flew into Val's face, momentarily blinding her. She swiped it away only to be immediately bombarded with several, similarly weighted items. Arms, legs, chest, face...

When she could finally see clearly, she saw her mother standing before her; red-faced with clothing spilling out of her white-knuckled grip.

Clothes were strewn all over the floor and beds. Behind her mom stood Val's narrow chest of drawers, which had been ransacked. Nearly everything she had hanging up had been pulled down - ripped down. one of her more delicate dresses dangled haphazardly from its hanger with a torn seam.

She was stunned.

The brunette flinched as her mom suddenly slammed a fistful of shirts onto the ground, before jabbing a finger in her face.

"You can get the fuck outta here if you're gonna continue being a selfish bitch!" She bellowed, trembling with anger. "Go live with your dad, wherever the fuck he is. I don't give a shit. Just get outta my sight!"

Val was sobbing by this point, cowering on her bed while her mom raged. Her mom's done some pretty scary shit in the past, but nothing like this. No matter how angry she became, not once had she intentionally caused any of her children physical harm...

"You know, all I wanted from you was some goddamn cigarettes! Do you know how long I've been without them? Three days! Three days and not a single one, Valerie! I'm going insane, here, and you don't give a shit! ..."

Val was no longer listening. Her mind had taken her somewhere else; somewhere infinitely more pleasant.

By the time she finally came to, she was alone.

Val realised then and there she had to leave. What little hope she had left for a somewhat peaceful cohabiting situation had just been obliterated.

Her own mother assaulted her, plain and simple. She no longer felt safe. This was not something she could easily forgive, if at all.

---

"So, she blew up your relationship over cigarettes?" Raph was incredulous. "Are you serious?"

The brunette averted her gaze, unsure how to respond. She didn't want to believe her mom would be this cruel over something so trivial. Surely, she wasn't that expendable...

The terrapin scoffed, shaking his head. "What a piece of-" he promptly stopped himself. Exhaling slowly to expel his anger, he eventually returned his gaze to hers. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't... She's still your mom."

"Yeah..."

"Were your siblings around durin' this?"

"No, thank God; they were still at school. I haven't told them exactly why I left, just that mom and I fell out. My sister's upset with me right now; she wants to know what's going on and I won't tell her..."

"Why's that?" Raph enquired, confused. "I mean, I'd wanna know if someone close to me was doin' that shit."

"They're kids, Raph," Val countered gently. "I get where you're coming from, I just... I can't. They already know they can't rely on their dad; I'm not about to pull the rug out from under them with their mom, as well..."

"So, you're lyin' by omission."

"I'm trying to protect them," Val shot back, levelling the terrapin with a hard stare. "The things I've seen, the things I was told, at their age... I wished for this. I prayed for someone in my corner, to say: 'hey, this isn't right. She shouldn't know these things. She's only little...'"

At that, Raph's expression softened considerably. He lowered his gaze.

"...Believe me, if something even remotely like what I experienced happens to them, the gloves come off... Until then, it's between mom and me. If that makes me the bad guy, then fine - I'll be the bad guy."

"Fair enough," the terrapin nodded with sad smile.

The pair finished eating in silence.

"So... what'd you decide on - for dessert?" Val finally enquired. She let out a soft chuckle. "I hope it didn't need to be refrigerated..."

"Nah, it didn't." Raph avoided her gaze. "It's nothin' special, just a bar'a chocolate... I tried makin' mousse with avocado in it; figured it'd be somethin' you'd like. Tasted like ass, though, so I chucked it."

Val didn't know whether to be flattered by the gesture or horrified by the fact he threw out perfectly good food. “Did you let it set?” She braced herself for the answer.

Raph stared blankly. “Was I supposed to?”

“Oh, God...” The brunette laughed incredulously, shaking her head. “You’re supposed to let it set; the avocado taste goes away once it’s set.”

“...Oh.”

“Oh, indeed... Oh well, plain old chocolate will do just fine. Chocolate's always good.”

---

Masterlist / Chapter 9

@miss-andromeda @android-cap-007 @happymoonangel

[dragonbreth]

Time forsaken| TZ11

Authors note: We are going to pretend that I am not in the middle of my German class writing this! I’m so excited to write this cause my friend and I were watching Miss Peregrines home for peculiar children at lunch and I got the idea to write this!

Warnings ⚠️: slight swearing, pet names, just a warning that the ages might be wonky cause I’m too lazy to actually calculate how old the people would be! This is also just warning that most of this story isn’t about Trevor though he is in the story most of it is about Rowan’s backstory cause this is going to become a AU later on.

Aged!Trevor Zegras x Aged!F!Reader

“Grammy!” Kyrah yelled out in joy of seeing her grandmother “hi dear, how are my girls?” Rowan exclaimed looking at the 4 girls

“We are doing great mom. Thank you so much for watching them, it’s really helping me out tonight.” Spoke Michelle, Rowan’s only daughter “what kind of grandma would I be if I didn’t? Trevor is out with a few friends for the weekend so I was going to be lonely anyway.” Rowan told her daughter

The youngest of the three girls clung to Rowan’s leg, not letting go any time soon.

*later that evening*

“Girls! Who’s ready for a bedtime story?”

“Me!” Kyrah and Kacy yelled jumping onto the black L shaped sofa

“Kyland? You don’t want to listen to the bedtime story?” Rowan asked hoping she’d say yes just like old times

“I’m gonna pass grams, sorry but I’ve gotten too old for bedtime stories.” Kyland said as she walked into the guest bedroom closing the wooden door behind her

“Mhm…let’s begin shall we? Once upon a time there was a young girl named Rowan.”

“That’s you!” Kacy interrupted “hush kacy!” Kyrah yelled

“Rowan wasn’t like other little girls her age, she was smarter. She could memorize the whole Russian alphabet by the age of 6! Rowan’s mother and father thought she was too smart-“

There were three knocks on the front door of the brick home

“One moment love bugs.” Rowan exclaimed as she jumped up from the sofa and scurried to the door of the home

“Michelle! You’re back early. Is everything alright dear?” Rowan asked, her voice laced with concern

“Nothings wrong, just thought the girls would want to sleep in their own bed tonight.” Michelle said bluntly “oh! I understand!” Rowan said forcing a smile

“Girls! You’re mother is here to pick you up!” Rowan yelled to her 3 grandchildren

“Thank god.” Kyland mumbled walking past Rowan

“Bye girls” Rowan waved as she watched her 4 girls drive off in the white bmw she bought her daughter for her 21st birthday

Michelle drive steadily on the road as she listened to her 8 year old daughter Kyrah tell her about Rowan’s bedtime story

“You realize Grammy is just full of it, right?” Kyland said turning and looking at the 8 year old and 4 year old known as Kyrah and Kacy in the back seat

Kacy looked up at Kyland with tears in her eyes which Michelle noticed quickly

“Kyland grace!” Michelle exclaimed “what! Grammy is a wack-a-do!” “That’s no way to speak of you’re grandmother! I should wash your mouth out with soap for saying that!”

“You actually believe that her parents sent her away to a boarding school cause she was “too smart”?” Kyland asked “hey don’t spoil it!” Kacy yelled from the backseat

“Listen Kyland, I know it’s hard to believe but it actually happened. Grams told me that story when I was a young girl.” “God knows that was forever ago.” Kyland said under her breath “excuse me? That’s it. I’ve had absolutely enough of your nonsense! No phone for a week!”

“Mom I’m 13 you expect me to believe that crazy stuff?!?”

[spicywhumper]

@febuwhump 2024: day 16. came back wrong + @femslash-february bingo: hell

series: crimson history // rating: mature // word count: 1,990

cw: mentioned child abuse & non-con, minor sisters stepcest, kinda r*pe recovery

Prodigy

She was six when the training started, looking older for her age or not, Jessica was a child when Joan has marked her as the next War Dog; Jennifer was still her stepsister, Jocelyn was still her mom, and Joan’s already her Master.

Speed

She’s a fast learner, as you’d expect from a prodigy, from the one meant to be the most powerful wizard of her generation; a shame she doesn’t learn fast enough to avoid punishment.

First 

There are many firsts in the life of a girl, even one that has had her childhood taken away from her before she knew she was a person of her own; too many firsts are Joan’s: spell, punch, sparring session, kiss, and time.

Cold

Sometimes she lays on her bed, alone and in the dark, and hates that she feels cold when nobody’s holding the leash on her invisible collar.

Betrayal

When she was born, Jennifer had carved a promise in the fabric of the universe, I’ll keep you safe, and Jessica never quite cared that she failed at it for sixteen years; then Joan whispers on her ear, hands bruising her hips like she loved to do, that it’s Jennifer who told the Coven how where she was.

Bitter

Sometimes Jessica isn’t sure how the fuck her mom has fallen in love with someone that has a mouth full of poison.

Freedom

She frowns at the way Head Magician Cornwell (this is not a cove, kid, my title is professor) doesn’t set curfews of 7pm and doesn’t punish who is late for dinner, Sub-Head Magician Greenwood (uh, call me Peyton, kid) looks at her with a frown every time she looks confused: “it’s a little bit of freedom, this is a school, not a prison.”

Tiles

White is covered with blood mixed with soap, Jennifer looks tired, worried, and she doesn’t seem happy that Jessica’s already out of her bed.

Play

They call the vigilante “straightjacket psycho” – it’s not too accurate, Scarlet’s more a “straightjacket dog that doesn’t know what to do with Its teeth”; Scarlet’s more “a predator that must play with foot not that Its free”.

Suicide

She’s twelve when she seriously consider It for the first time, the day after Joan summoned her to her private quarters and told her to strip naked; she stayed there for forty minutes, just being looked at her, and thought if she should leave and find the handgun she knows Mom keeps around.

War

Jennifer’s envious of her, she knows, and doesn’t care too much, children shouldn’t go to war; (you’re a child too, the devil in her head says, I’m a weapon.)

Sky

The sky’s a beautiful blue when Mom dies, when Jessica decides that maybe she should teach Joan that you’re not supposed to tame an evil that has taken home inside a child.

Belly

The first carved rune she puts on herself after running away is on her lower belly, women has always found ways to not carry spawn of monters; Joan whips her back until she passes out of blood loss, but doesn’t dare corrupting a ten year-old spell.

Smoke

Peyton gave her a cigarette, offered with a smirk; after Peyton died, she uses all of the girl’s last open packet to burn little circles on her thighs and says that the smoke is what makes her tear up.

Wash

The Dog can’t wash Itself, so Joan throws buckets of ice cold water at It; Jessica scrubs her skin until it’s red, inflamed, but Joan’s touches are still there, they’ll always be there.

Blanket

She had a dream, once, about her and Jennifer and a happy family; she wrapped herself in the blanket, thin and old, because Jennifer’s the reason she’s back in hell. 

Stain

Joan’s invites a friend sometimes, she doesn’t know this strange woman’s name, but she knows the stains she leaves on her soul.

Name

She changes name again, again and again; settles for Scarlet, like the blood she reaps from people that are a little too much like her mother.

Red

The first time Patricia spells a diagnostic spell on her, Jessica’s surprised that her corporeal is a soft shade of blue; but she’s not surprised by the solid ball of red on her abdomen, even if Patricia makes the same pitying face Rachel made not even a year ago. 

Rage

There’s an inferno of hatred under her skin, she wishes it’d burn the ropes keeping her in place as Joan lists everything she has been thinking about doing to her in the last ten years.

Bite

There’s only one time that Joan tries to bring a male friend, he does look less enthusiastic than her lady friends when the Dog kneels in front of him; cuts and cuts down Its back to learn It can’t bite and spit out flesh.

Thunder

Jessica was scared of storms, of thunder when she was small, when she was Jocelyn’s daughter enough to be comforted by her; loud noises startle her still, Caroline frowns at her with how Scarlet always puts earphones with the loudest possible music as soon as it starts raining.

Water

Blood runs thicker than water never made sense until she heard the full saying, it rings true in her head when she sits alone with Patricia and realizes that this safety, this warmth, is what she’s supposed to feel around a motherly figure.

Empty

It’s not an odd thing, deep down, when she looks in a mirror and dead eyes stare her back; there’s nothing new about how she’s an empty shell.

Battle

The battle isn’t even a true battle, it’s a bloodshed; a weapon of mass destruction leaves a trail of blood, entrails and deserved death behind It – and It does twice, the thrice worse the second time.

Lay

She lays on the snow, shivering and breathing puffs of white air, half-naked, covered in bruises and wounds; she lets her brain idle, but not even the Dog has the energy to move.

Fear

Agent Fletcher has hunted her for months, has spent almost two years under her care, had accepted the memory spell, and never was scared of her; the Dog’s confused why there’s fear in her eyes now.

Leg

The first time she tries to have sex after Hell 2.0, legs around Caroline’s hips and pulling her closer, there’s a moment where it’s not her “friend” she sees; Patricia says it’s normal, and Caroline seems about to throw up.

Morality

There are books on morality, on ethics, in the library; she doesn’t read them, she doesn’t need them to know that everything about her is utterly immoral.

Knife

The Dog doesn’t feel anything, the Dog wants to feel something,  the blade cuts through It hand like butter and the pretty girl next to It screams (the girl in the back of Its mind hums in appreciation for the hurt.)

Castle

Jocelyn had taken her and Jennifer to a beach once, it’s a haze memory, she was barely a toddler helping her sister build a sand castle; when she lays on her bed, late at night, she wonders about the children she never had (never wanted to) and if she’d love them enough to take them castle-building in the breath.

Torture

They thought they knew horror, knew pain, with the torture Scarlet gave them; rumors spread quickly that this new version paints all the walls with their blood, leave them alive, but just a squirming torso without ears and eyes.

Horns

Her spiritual form has horns and a tail, somehow Caroline gets away with making fun of her (“somehow”, stop lying, you love her).

Beg

She’s not ready to see the way Jennifer falls on her knees and apologizes, her eyes begging to be believed, she didn’t know; and Jessica doesn’t put it above Joan to manipulate blood of her blood to believe Jessica’s the villain here.

Darkness

She’s unfairly comfortable, as if she’s a child who has the right to be on the lap of their mother, seeking this safety with Patricia: “I hate it, all this darkness inside me,” she whispers, Patricia just hold her closer, Patricia just whispers like a mantra, and I love you anyway. 

Shiny

Caroline’s eyes are shiny with tears, but she still brings the Dog closer, holding It blood-covered hand, she still helps It to clean up and takes It to bed; she sees a feral animal and doesn’t sacrifice It.

Mirror

Jessica learned, pretty quickly, that Joan likes when she has reactions; she wants to hit the mirror with her head, she doesn’t, she just let Joan watch her face as she’s taken like the whore the woman wants her to be tonight.

Freak

“So… you and Jennifer?” Caroline asks, her hand feels nice playing with her hair, “yeah, two coven freaks,” – two coven freaks that only found safety in each other, Caroline only hums and accepts as if that’s the most normal thing in the world.

Spite

The way she spreads Joan’s remains across the compound is out of spite, it’s almost petty, she leaves pieces of flesh and skin in every single place where Joan raped her; there’s almost not enough of the Head Magician for that.

Patchwork

Scarlet’s not ashamed of her scars, she’s ashamed of where most of them comes from; Jennifer takes a sharp breath when she sees her shirtless for the first time, it takes a second to notice she’s looking at the Carved Rune close to her waistband – she doesn’t even try to look annoyed when Jennifer steals her from Caroline for cuddles for the next week.

Clean

Patricia wraps her arms with clean bandages, covered in her own blood; she woke up with the ghost feelings of Joan’s hands holding her arms back and- “hey, hey,” she says gently, “stay with me, dear, you’re free now, you’re clean now.”

Collect

Apparently Scarlet collect hearts like they’re nice, neat action figures.

Laugh

Scarlet likes the way they laugh, Jennifer’s quiet like her, Caroline’s soft like mom was, and Patricia loud and taking up space; Scarlet likes it, she likes that they make her laugh too.

Forehead

Mom used to give her forehead kisses when she tucked her in bed, she pretends she doesn’t cry in some sort of relief and grief the first times Patricia did the same.

Memory

Sometimes, more often than she’ll admit, she’s seeing a memory in front of her and not Joan; Jennifer looks more heartbroken that there’s a reason for it to happen than because for a second, Scarlet sees her abuser in her.

Safe

Somehow, there’s nothing but understanding in both of them when Scarlet comes home smelling like sex; somehow they understand that she feels safe when she gets to kill who she feeds of.

Dimple

Scarlet’s sure Jennifer feels more than “friendly stuff because she cares about you” towards Caroline when she reached and poked one of her dimples; being a goner for dimples might be a family thing.

Liquor

She hates the taste of it – Joan grabbed her jaw and forced cheap tequila down her throat so she would take whatever Joan wanted her to now that she can’t switch easily, –and Jennifer apologizes when Scarlet gets a blank look on her eyes from a tequila-tasting kiss.

Pile

Part of Scarlet doesn’t really understand why Caroline and Jennifer like to pile on her for cuddles at every opportunity, she sees Patricia snickering (it hurts that there’s one person missing in her life, but it feels like who’s there tries to keep her warm enough so she can keep going). 

Complex

It’s a complex thing, Scarlet thing, with the biting, raging Dog that needs to be out from time to time; but maybe she’s not too complex to be loved by Patricia and Caroline and Jennifer (to be forgiven for not unlearning the habits carved into her bones).

[blot-squisher]

" Young man, we do not say foul words in this house. We say 'fudge' instead."

( I just had to send Gooseberry over to mom Marcus and Danny lol)

Marcus had no answer, simply staring with wide eyes at the woman in front of him. Slashers were scary at the best of times, but something about her just screamed, 'Don't say anything stupid for once or you won't live to regret it!' Danny let out a high pitched laugh, grabbing the vet by the wrist as he slowly backed away. "Well fudge the Entity then! I just remembered that my house is laundry! Fire! My laundry is on fire!" Not bothering to wait for Marcus to find his feet, Ghostface yanked him over a shoulder before opening a Door in the nearest available structure. Time to find Kenneth to come get his girlfriend before she decides to wash someones mouth out with soap!

(sorry it took me so long to answer!)

[soapver4]

𝙱𝚕⧲𝚌𝚔

Element hybridization-expansion idea: Racing honchos amused by a woman angling for the male-dominated world of Formula One trapped her in a racecar museum.

The race started in a wooden shack in a make-believe area of East Asia. One of Sanya's earliest pleasant memories was sticking little thyme flowers into clay a teenage sister had just plugged holes on a bedroom wall with. Sanya later learnt that her sister was trying to undress in peace for once by blocking the views of creepers habitually lurking outside. One of Sanya's earliest nasty memories was another sister hurling a block of charcoal at someone who made a great show of oh-so-accidentally smacking this other sister's chest. And then, as Sanya grew older, she herself would wrap her tattered blankets and fraying bolsters over her head to block out noise from all the quarrels in their corner of the slum so that she could focus on homework.

The one blocker that truly enveloped her as a thick, warm blanket was the roar of racecars. Now and then, Sanya's dad would take her to his janitorial work at a motorsport stadium to develop a strong work ethic in her from a young age. Paradoxically, it became an escapist trip where tsunamis of howls from hot-burning engines and tires silenced the rest of the world with utmost aplomb, blasting away her household and money woes. An impossible dream was blooming.

Teenage Sanya wasted no time cobbling together her own plethora of sanitation jobs to afford race-driving school and tournament fees. It was a guilt-ridden path, having to walk a tightrope between her dreams and her family's needs. Eager for security, her sisters married early, although they visited from time to time. Pretty soon, they had wailing little mouths to feed. Each time Sanya came close to saving enough for a legitimate course — scammers were always just around the corner — her dad's lungs acted up or her mom had a slip at another janitorial work site, swaddling them in thick hospital bills. To spare her from the burden, her dad resorted to loan sharks. Before anyone knew it, the family was salvaging a door from a garbage heap to replace the one the loan sharks broke in demand for payment. To the vehement objection of her parents, she also replaced their fully functional basic phone with a phone that had a call blocking facility to cut down the harassment.

Looking at how busy older colleagues lost the motivation and tempo to pursue their dreams over time, Sanya resolved to keep hers in close proximity, even if she could not pay for them yet, as a reminder to herself. After the motorsport stadium was demolished, she would put up with long commutes to sweep away at more distant motor racing venues, on top of continuing soaping gigs at automotive shops and car washes. That frequently meant dragging her weary body home along dim alleys around the witching hour or later. Out of caution, she spent what little remained of her weekends picking up blocking karate moves from borrowed video tapes.

A meet-cute was not on her radar when she finally had sufficient financial bandwidth for racing lessons but, boy, a tall young man with lustrous, silky hair and lively, crescent-shaped eyes totally swept Sanya off her feet. He would step in for her whenever the other students teased the only "chick" in their program and whenever he spotted her imperious instructor, who frequently snorted at her maneuvers, insisting on wrapping his burly arms over hers in front of the steering wheel. This sweet guy's reassuring presence reminded her of her dad's towering figure from her childhood days. The afternoon she finished first in a mini-race in the school, though, an alien expression seemed to subtly overshade his dashing facial features. Yet he continued to shield her everywhere, impressing her further still. That was, until she caught him scrawling vulgar graffiti across her vehicle. Ah, human nature. Sanya chuckled to herself although the heartbreak of lost first love was setting in. Keeping a stiff upper lip, she sprayed on fresh paint to block out his creative references to the world's oldest profession.

The darkest time in a woman's life befell her in spite of the karate, just days after Sanya completed her first actual race. The series creator flatly rejects any ChatGPT advice to flesh out this part of the account. Sanya's mom flew into extreme rage on learning about the alley attack, alternating between spewing curses at the dirtbag and haranguing her daughter for putting herself in danger and jeopardizing her marriage prospects. It became the toughest perception challenge of her racing career: Why did she deserve as much criticism as the dirtbag? Hating herself despite questioning it all, the young woman dropped out of driving school, stuck to daytime jobs unrelated to cars, which drivers were more often male then, and wore long sleeves and pants that blocked sight of her porcelain-like skin even under blazing summer suns.

The shove that got her out of the rut came five years later, in the form of a matchmaker's visit. Suppressing mentions of the attack and then pretending it never existed, her parents had been pressing her to tie the knot with some man who could protect her and take care of all her needs. To their dismay, however, Sanya's long-time reputation for unwomanly ambitions and hobbies put off prospective in-laws. But now, a financially comfortable family shrugged off her past as a one-time, youthful phase and believed anyway that a tough woman with the courage to hold her own in a large company of men would raise tough kids that could flourish in this rough world. Her parents could not be more relieved. Yet, the bitterness of the idea of consequently divorcing herself forever from her racing dream overwhelmed Sanya. At the age of 30 by then, she stared down an automobile maker's promotional calendar, its tiny, skeletal blocks of dates carelessly flipping by in a blur in her mind.

Fleeing back to race tracks was not as emotionally difficult as she thought. Cloistered away from handsy instructors as a self-learner and overage for the usual chick taunters in certain places, she could glide without a care in the world in her vehicle, the whirring soundtrack buoying her along. Expenses were the killer hairpin bend. Rentals, insurance, race entry fees and vehicular inspection fees had only risen over time. Ditto for her family's care expenses. Still too scarred to return to night jobs, Sanya rang up sponsors, who chortled at her patchy racing record. Her only formal achievement was clinching fifth place as a novice driver in that one official race, a small-town one at that. As gingerly as she could, Sanya tried to outline the ensuing events and her lifelong circumstances without triggering a meltdown on her part.

"I see you think life has been unfair to you. The wrong financial background, the wrong gender, the wrong legal system. Everything is wrong, except you."

"Perhaps they sure look like excuses, and I know I don't have evidence to back up my claims. Even if you cannot believe me, I certainly hope you won't throw out my request just because I come from an atypical demographic silo. The other day, I caught news of racers who were given sponsorships despite taking years off to recuperate from physical injuries," Sanya stated resolutely.

"Don't you cry discrimination."

"Is — this not the headquarters I'm speaking to?" Sanya's jaw dropped.

"Yes, it is. And your persistent appeals to overturn a final decision are an obstruction of business and a pattern of wanton harassment. This is our last warning: Never call again."

Sponsor after sponsor, she found that in the days to come, their phones would be engaged and receptionists she visited would claim that nobody in their offices was free to entertain her queries. It dawned on her that she was on their block lists, like how the creepers, the loan sharks and the car vandal were on hers. The harrowing realization was the second greatest perception challenge of her racing career.

The medical situation in the family was more dire than ever. Superstition dictated that one or more single persons within must be married off to save the lives of those who would otherwise depart. Money problems snowballed. Tongues started wagging about the pampered youngest daughter's selfishness. The matchmaker made more calls. A family friend even came up with a new marriage offer, sitting beside Sanya as the younger woman hung her head over her thighs in a hectic hospital corridor and reasoning how this other prospective groom's job as a sports car salesman would at least let her live alongside the dream she could never fulfill. But did Sanya believe in superstition or selling herself to a stranger she did not love for money? Just as the exasperated friend rose to leave, Sanya softly agreed. Tried as she did, she could not get herself unblocked by any sponsor, but she could now get a lifelong block of guilt off her chest.

Intimacy was beyond traumatic for Sanya, but she did not want to be unfair, in her opinion, to her husband, who was not responsible for the alley attack. They soon had a daughter. Sanya bought numerous collectible toy cars, storybooks featuring fun automobiles and more for the little girl. Her husband did not like to be distracted at work too much, so the girl would read the car stories aloud at home while Sanya smiled at her and worked on problems in her own mechanics textbooks, never mind that an engineering or science degree was off-limits to a housewife like her in everybody's view. In the evening, mother and daughter would scan the television listings for athletic programs. When the girl was eight, however, she came home stormily one afternoon, picked up Lego blocks for a toy car and dumped them into a foul drain outside. Why should she be Sanya's puppet, chasing an ambition that was not hers, cultivating hobbies that only made her a weird tomboy in the eyes of classmates?

Before Sanya could react, police investigators ominously turned up. Court trials commenced in time. Casting a look at her, one audience member grunted that the incident was bound to happen when a haughty modern wife would not do her proper job. Nausea ensued in her as a willowy salesgirl 17 years her junior bitterly recounted what transpired after a manager married with a daughter and whom the salesgirl was uninterested in suddenly closed the door to the storeroom the two of them were in one evening. Sanya's husband vainly maintained that everything was consensual and that he did not force the subsequent abortion. The car vandal's graffiti about Sanya and the oldest profession in the world came flooding back. Her younger self blocked the letters, but not the words.

Engulfed with dark flames of hatred, Sanya sat by herself in a court stairwell and decided there and then that if that was the lot of many a woman, she would gun for the biggest riches of all. Nobody deserved a cowering mother. Ignoring advice to stand by her child's convicted dad, she crammed the essentials of the language of the country most renowned for its motorsport industry and began a double life there with the help of post-divorce child support payments from him and parenting loans from his family. At home, Sanya would whip up wholesome dishes for her child, as well as for local kids she babysat to cover some more basic expenses, and ensure the little one kept up with her studies in the foreign land. But while her girl was at school, Sanya would travel around, courting industry executives whose intel she gathered beforehand and dangling, in exchange for educational and racing sponsorships, dates in which she outlined bit by tantalizing bit revenge schemes to get even with their rivals. Fluency in the language would take time, so she made up for the deficiency with stunning metaphors and the verve in her melodious voice. One executive was so absorbed with her evil proposal, he suggested marrying her to spite a cheater ex-wife known to be condescending towards Asian people. Sanya winced but took it a step further in a split second: hire her on his events team and she'll be his.

Their second marriage was another double life. They would act lovey-dovey in public, then return home to bicker over the minutest detail of the home decor, each blaming the other for how their privileged upbringing or upstart status made them ignorant and unappreciative. Complaints that Sanya were abusing her position and connections to enter races persistently annoyed her new husband too. What did she care by now, though?

One day, a mass shooting broke out before a tournament, and Sanya's distinctive look made her an easy target, so she took a bullet to the arm. The sniper smirkingly continued to aim at her, but a man's silhouette blocked their line of sight. She gasped not just because of the danger but also because she was not expecting her second husband in this particular tournament. He swiftly tackled the sniper down to the ground and people nearby rushed to help, but a shot tore into his torso. As blood continued gushing out of the slumped man moments later, he wiped at the tears of shock streaking Sanya's cheeks, remarking with a weak smile that he would miss even their inane squabbles and urging her to continue chasing her Formula One dream. Then he fell limp.

His family did not take long to claw back his fortunes from her after the funeral. People in the organization also wanted to redeploy her to light administrative or archival roles, supposedly to relieve the burden of the grieving widow. However, Sanya fought fiercely for her inheritance and opportunities, intent on living out both her and her one true lover's shares of life. The protracted tussles caused a stir in the industry in light of her current in-laws' and enterprise's fame.

Over drinks one night, a bunch of bigwigs, including her late husband's siblings, joked among themselves about an Asian doll playing house with their cars. One sternly corrected them on the doll label — because dolls would not grow wrinkles — and guffawed. The others slapped each other's back in hilarity. Someone among them had a brainwave. Legal battles over Sanya's management decisions began one after another. She was not backing down but had nobody's back either. That was how the in-laws eventually dangled a non-compete agreement to her: Accept in lieu of all other funds and automobile ventures a fancy block of racecar museum they acquired, which they would finance to keep her there to her powdered pretty heart's content for the rest of her life, or else face decades of those battles and more they could conjure that would leave her scant time for racing anyway until old age.

Sanya had no choice but to sign the document in light of her first husband's prospective difficulties in paying more child support as a shunned ex-convict, her legal bills and her daughter's own college plans. The youngster just chuckled at this turn of events before heading out for a nail painting date with pals. Family and friends from their homeland called to congratulate their old girl on achieving her dream. Why, she would live and work among racecars forever. As storeys of sleek vehicles surrounded Sanya in the cavernous museum, located in a remote area, the heroine clenched her fist and thought long and hard as the night wore on.

Curious bills after curious bills reached the in-laws. First, there were numerous book purchases. Ah, yes, decking out the giant dollhouse with a comfy library. Next up were legal consultation fees and countless rounds of paperwork fees. Odd, but on further thought and checks that Sanya was not purchasing or leasing land or automobile venues anywhere, why not? Let the doll wall in herself with more storeys of her toy cars. But then massive demolition fees emerged one day. That was one maniacal doll. Frowns were all around by the time astronomical construction expenses started making their appearances. On one hand, the in-laws rang up government offices and their lawyers, who scurried to re-check the wording of the agreement document. On the other, the bill items made no sense.

The final set of bills was, nay, is for drone, vehicular and roadside cameras, among other communications equipment. It is the new 20s. 52-year-old Sanya gets into her driver seat, her eyes twinkling at @hypersecs.zip Gallery's livestream audience through her racing helmet. The five red lights illuminate one by one, then go out simultaneously. Amid the familiar howls of combustion and friction, her unemblazoned vehicle zips along a highway spiraling up seemingly endlessly from the old site of the huge museum block. A pink-orange afternoon sky beckons.

[jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s]

Fic: If you ever need a helping hand - Chapter 5

Wow, this alpha-beta-omegaverse fic about Steve Harrington just will not quit. And neither will I! I have posted a fifth chapter, and it turns out that I will have to extend this thing into six chapters.

Here is a preview of Chapter 5:

Somehow, Steve does get Eddie into the shower with him. Eddie washes all the spunk out of his hair, even lets Steve use both the Faberge Organics shampoo and conditioner on him.

“You have to let it sit,” Steve tells him, scrunching Eddie’s curls in his wet hands. The conditioner leaves them slippery.

“Whatever you say,” Eddie tells him.

Their faces are so close that Steve sways forward. The heat of the shower makes the smell of soap and shampoo even sharper. Everything smells like honey. Eddie tastes like shower water.

He can’t talk Eddie into fucking him again in the shower. He claims his dick isn’t super powered, and Steve tells him that he doubts that. But Eddie leans back against the shower wall and puts both hands between Steve’s legs, jerks him off with one and fingers him with the other.

“Oh, this is why everybody wants to fuck guys who can play guitar,” Steve says. His mouth is on Eddie’s shoulder and the shower is running, but Eddie still hears him clearly. He laughs. His touch stutters a bit. Steve wants to put his arms around Eddie and squeeze him, even if it meant that Eddie’s fingers would slip out and he would stop stroking Steve’s cock.

So, he does it. Eddie’s fingers don’t slip out, though his hand does get pinned between them. His calloused thumb teases the slit of Steve’s dick as he comes.

Maybe it’s just the shower, but he feels lightheaded. He feels in love.

Eddie strips a few of the towels off the bed and moves ones from the pillows down over the sheets, while Steve is still washing his face and putting on the lotion that his mom bought him last Christmas. He thinks, vaguely, that he’s supposed to not use any lotion that’s been open for more than three months, but it hasn’t run out yet.

“I’m going to put these in the washing machine,” Eddie offers. “Do you want me to put anything else in with it?”

“Uh,” Steve says.

Eddie, with his arms already full of towels, tries to bend over and get Steve’s sweatpants off the floor. Steve nearly lunges at him for it.

“I can carry some of that,” Steve says. What he needs to do, really, is get dressed. He needs at least two or three layers, because something about Eddie doing the laundry for him is really doing it for Steve. It’s not a waterfall situation, like earlier, but it’s certainly… He could get hard. He could get fully erect all over again just because Eddie’s washing some towels for him.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks. “I mean, I sort of thought… You’re not tired? You can just lay down.”

Steve carries his dirty sweatpants toward the bed. He bends to pick up his briefs, which are all… sticky.

“Are you going to lay down with me?” he asks, once he’s up and turned back around.

Eddie’s eyes are huge. His hair is wet, but the curls look dewy and perfect. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his lips. It’s also apparent in some of his scars. He clutches the towels against his bare chest like something precious he can’t afford to drop.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie says. “After I did the laundry, I thought we might take a nap.”

“We just got up,” Steve points out.

[writebackatya]

I Think We’re Alone Now! WIP Preview

Doing my best to add more stories to the “Gandra Dee & Della Duck (Disney)” tag on AO3. I already posted two previews of this story, one showing Della’s introduction, the other showing Gandra’s introduction. Might as well share the scene where their two stories collide.

Some context for this scene, both Della and Gandra are at a bar in this scene. Della is there with Penumbra and Selene for a Girls' Night Out while Gandra is there because a coworker of hers asked to meet her there so that they could blackmail her after spotting her with Fenton. This story takes place after the episode New Gods on the Block! so Gandra is still with F.O.W.L. but most importantly, this story finally lets me write what I've always wanted to write and that is: Drunk Della Duck.

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Gandra stood alone by one of the sinks in the women’s restroom. Once she wiped her eyes, she finally had the courage to look at her own reflection. “You idiot,” she sighed to herself as she turned on the faucet.

SLAM

“WHY SHOULD I WORRY!?” Della belted out, slamming the women’s bathroom door open, “Why should I caaaaarrrreee? I may not have a dime! But I got streeeet savoir faire!”

The drunk duck’s singing ceased as the far more sober hen stood at the still running sink.

It was Della who decided to break the awkward silence. “Yo.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Oh just peachy.” Gandra answered through her teeth. “Yours?”

“Oh I’ll tell you how it’s going,” Della began as she pushed the door closing in on her away, “…peachy.”

“Oh good.” Gandra answered in a faux concerned tone, “I was worried that your night was anything but peachy.”

“Heh.” Della then snapped her fingers and fired two finger gun shots at Gandra while she waddled over to the one of the stalls.

“Why should I worry!? Why should I care!? It’s just be-BOPulation! And I got streeeet savoir faaaiire!”

Gandra said nothing as Della made her way into one of the empty stalls.

Once Della closed the door, Gandra felt as if she had her privacy again. The hen then proceeded to splash the sink’s cold water onto her face.

“AHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Della stopped her singing and instead gave out a sigh of relief that everyone in the bathroom could hear. A rather annoyed sigh left Gandra’s mouth as the running water showered down into the empty sink.

FLUSH

“Woo!” Della exclaimed as opened the stall door and chuckled. “Alcohol just goes RIGHT THROUGH ME!”

“I know.” Gandra replied, keeping her eye contact with her reflection while she shut off the cold water. “I heard.”

“Heh, sorry.” Della apologized, “I just really needed that.”

“The rhythm of the ciiitah! But once ya get it dooooown!” Della continued singing as she made her way over to the only other sink which was right next to Gandra’s. “Saidthenyou can own this toooown!”

Gandra’s attempt to tune out Della’s singing next to her was thwarted the moment the duck bumped her butt against her.

“You can wear the croooooown!” Della snapped her two fingers and pointed directly at Gandra.

After realizing she was not getting a response from the hen silently staring back at her, Della spoke up. “…Billy Joel.”

“Yeah,” Gandra dryly replied, “I know.”

“Cool!” Della winked as she fired two more finger gun shots at Gandra.

As Della went ahead and soaped her hands, Gandra cranked the hot water faucet on allowing it to blast out as she slapped some soap out of the dispenser and into her palm.

“So,” Della spoke up yet again, “how’s your night going?”

“You already asked me that.”

“Right, right.” Della cleared her throat. “…So, do you come here often?”

“To have conversations with drunk soccer moms, no. I can’t say that I do.”

“Ha!” Della honked, “fair enough.”

As the two washed their hands in sync, Della decided to silently continue her song.

“Ev’rything goes! Ev’rthing fits! They love me at the Chelsea they adore me at the Ritzzz!” Della hissed as she shut off her sink.

“Hey, you mind if I give you some advice?” Della asked as she leaned against her sink.

“For some reason I have the feeling I don’t have a choice.” Gandra sighed.

“I really think you should break up with your boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?!” Gandra shut off her sink as a mixture of various emotions (not to mention a whole bunch of nanites) ran through her body as the hen began planning for any possible scenario that might happen next.

“It’s just advice.” Della defended as she grabbed some paper towels for herself. “You don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to. I just think you can do way better than the guy you’re with.”

“Wait, what?”

“That rooster guy you’re with. He’s got that beak that I think might be made of steel. Dressed up like he’s attending a wedding being held in a casino. That guy.” Della said being a little more specific.

“Oh for the love of-, he’s not my boyfriend!” Gandra said as she shook her hands allowing them to air dry. “He’s just some jackass I work with.”

“Ah I should’ve known, sorry” Della apologized as she dried her hands. “It’s just I saw you two together near my table an-”

“He’s just not my type.” Gandra interrupted as she leaned against the sink hoping to end this conversation.

“Oooooooohhhh…Well cool! And hey congrats for gals like us, huh? I recently found about what has been legalized since I got back to Earth.” Della nudged Gandra.

“Hey!” Della spoke up before Gandra could say anything, “why don’t you join me and my girls?!”

“Thanks, but I’m good.” Gandra folded her arms.

“Oh come on, why not!?”

“No offense, but I normally prefer to hang out with people my own age.”

“Whoa, okay. Selene may be an immortal goddess, but she’s still just as fun as gals our age.”

“…I’m not in my thirties.”

“Yeah! Me t-…Fuck, no I am in my thirties!” Della realized as she rubbed her hand against her face and laughed. “So, I’m pretty drunk.”

“You just realized that now, huh?” Gandra pulled out her phone. “Well your better head back to your gal pals before you forget about them too.”

“Oh that ain’t gonna happen, chicky.” Della assured the unamused hen, “I may be drunk, but I’m just as sharp as I would be if I were sober.”

“That I might actually believe.”

“Well believe this, I know for a fact you’re scared to leave this bathroom.”

“Oh? Just like how you knew for a fact that the guy I was with was my boyfriend?” Gandra inquired. “Tell me, was it because he’s a rooster and I’m hen?”

“Whoa, hey. I was wrong and that was my bad.” Della defended herself. “Honestly I didn’t even think that at first when I first spotted you two; you looked like you didn’t really care for him. And the whole time I was like, “This chick looks like she’s the type that doesn’t take shit from anyone and plays by her own rules, why is she with this douchebag?”. And then my mind dug out some memories I haven’t thought about in long time and was thinking “Oh shit, maybe she’s in a toxic relationship!” And boyfriend or not, I can just tell that he was getting under your skin.”

“Well…you’re not wrong there,” Gandra admitted, “but’s he’s just a dumbass. I deal with him every day at work, he’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“But by yourself?” Della asked as she crumbled her used paper towels into a ball.

Gandra scoffed. “What makes you think I’m afraid?”

“Cause you’ve spent the last few minutes talking to a drunk soccer mom when you could have left her alone with her amazing talented singing voice.” Della said as she threw her makeshift ball into a trashcan several feet away.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Della proudly cheered as her trash went into the can.

As Della Duck rose her hands in the air, Gandra Dee stood in silence as she came to the horrible realization that yes, she was afraid.

“So I take it, I was right?”

“…There’s no way around it.” Gandra confirmed.

“Nothing gets past, Della Duck.” The aviator bragged to the off-duty F.O.W.L. agent. “Now come on, how are we going to deal with this douchebag?!”

“We? Oh no, I really don’t think that’d be a good idea. Things might get…worse.” Gandra warned.

“Oh please, I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Della shrugged. “Not to oversell myself, but I’m a bit of a badass and have been in my fair share of fights. And a good chunk of them I was drunk too! Plus I got my girls with me and the minute that cock decides to fight me, I know they’ll have my back!”

A soft chuckle made its way out of Gandra’s mouth, after it left reality set itself back in.

“Look, I appreciate you wanting to help, but it’s not that simple.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not that complicated.” Della said as she grabbed a few paper towels that she offered to Gandra which the hen declined. “Why don’t you tell me all about this situation you got yourself stuck?”

“Well-”

CREAK

Just then another patron of the bar entered the bathroom.

“HEY!!” Della yelled at the woman, “GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!! I AM TRYING TO HELP MY FRIEND HERE DEAL WITH SOME SCUMBAG AND WOULD LIKE A LITTLE PRIVACY!”

“Della! Della!” Gandra grabbed Della and held her back, “Della, it’s a public restroom! She’s allowed in here.”

“…Oh…” Della’s face flushed as she calmed down, “right…sorry.”

“Uh…it’s fine.” The woman replied.

Della turned to Gandra. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, come on!”

Della grabbed Gandra’s hand and walked over to the bathroom window.

“Boost me up?”

As Gandra gave Della a boost, the two looked back at the only other woman in the bathroom who was still standing in silence staring at the two.

“…We’re not dining and dashing.” Della explained. “She’s got an asshole she needs to deal with and I got my crew out there.” Della motioned to the front of her shirt that had Moon Crew printed on the front.

“We’ll be back!” Della assured the stranger as she jumped out the bathroom window.

CRASH

“MREOW!”

“I’m okay!!” Della assured the two in the bathroom from outside. “Also that cat you heard didn’t get hurt! It was just startled!”

“…”

Gandra stared back at the woman and then over to the bathroom window. “I uh, guess I’ll be following her…”

“…Well, good luck.”

“Thanks.” Gandra backed up and gave herself a running start before diving out the window.

“…Why do all the weirdos come to Duckburg?”

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This'll probably be the last preview I show of this story, I still got plenty more to work on but I wanted to share this because Della Duck singing Why Should I Worry? is the thing that made me go "Well shit, now I HAVE TO tell this story.