#toilet roll holder stand

[doorbell15]

The Unsung Hero: A Closer Look at the Toilet Roll Holder

Introduction:

In the realm of bathroom accessories, the toilet roll holder stand as a humble yet indispensable element of our daily lives. Often overlooked, this unassuming fixture plays a crucial role in maintaining hygiene and order in one of the most private spaces in our homes. In this article, we’ll delve into the history, evolution, and significance of the toilet roll holder.

History:

The concept of a dedicated holder for toilet paper is a relatively modern invention. Before its advent, people relied on various makeshift methods to store and dispense toilet paper, such as wall-mounted hooks, shelves, or simply placing the roll on the bathroom counter. The need for a more organized and efficient solution led to the creation of the toilet roll holder as we know it today.

The first patented design for a toilet paper roll holder was filed in 1883 by Seth Wheeler, who is often credited with the invention of perforated toilet paper itself. Wheeler’s design featured a spring-loaded spindle, which allowed the roll to rotate easily and facilitated tearing at the perforations. This innovation marked the beginning of a new era in bathroom convenience.

Evolution of Design:

Since Wheeler’s pioneering design, the toilet roll holder has undergone numerous transformations in terms of materials, styles, and functionalities. Today, these holders come in a variety of forms, including wall-mounted fixtures, free-standing designs, and even recessed models for a seamless aesthetic.

Materials such as chrome, stainless steel, plastic, and wood are commonly used in the construction of toilet roll holders, allowing for diverse choices to suit different bathroom styles. Some high-end designs also incorporate innovative features like dual-roll dispensers, built-in shelves, or integrated smartphone holders.

Functionality and Hygiene:

The primary function of a toilet roll holder is, of course, to provide a convenient and accessible way to store and dispense toilet paper. Beyond this, modern designs often focus on hygiene and ease of use. Many holders are designed with anti-microbial coatings or materials that resist bacterial growth, contributing to a cleaner bathroom environment.

Some holders also incorporate features like easy-roll replacement mechanisms, ensuring a hassle-free experience when it comes time to replace an empty roll. These thoughtful design elements enhance the overall functionality of the toilet roll holder and make it an essential part of the bathroom experience.

Conclusion:

In the grand scheme of bathroom fixtures, the toilet roll holder may seem like a minor detail, but its impact on our daily lives and bathroom aesthetics cannot be overstated. From its humble origins to the diverse and innovative designs available today, the toilet roll holder continues to evolve, proving its significance in maintaining order, convenience, and hygiene in one of our most private spaces. So, the next time you reach for a square of toilet paper, take a moment to appreciate the unsung hero that makes this daily ritual a little more organized and a lot more convenient.

Article Source: toilet roll holder

[coolhomeutensils1]

Toilet Paper Holder Stand | Dispenser For 4 Spare Rolls

Introducing the Toilet Paper Holder Stand, the best way to arrange and stylishly dispense toilet paper. Say goodbye to the inconvenience of searching for extra rolls or navigating cluttered and disorganized bathrooms. This stand’s creative design aims to add convenience, functionality, and a dash of class to your bathroom’s decor.

The Toilet Paper Holder Stand is a dependable dispenser for your toilet paper needs thanks to its stylish and robust design. Up to four extra rolls can be safely stored and released, ensuring that you never run out of toilet paper when you need it most. The stand’s vertical storage arrangement keeps your extra rolls tidy, arranged, and within easy reach while still conserving critical space.

[raajrajasharma]

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[kosagum]

how to fix a toilet — gojo satoru · fluff · 1k words

summary: while moving in with gojo, you fall in love with him again, again, again.

you’re watching GOJO fix a toilet and you think you’ve never been so in love in your life.

of course, you have loved him. but you haven’t gotten to love him like this, standing over the open tank of a toilet with a hand running through his white hair and a pout on his lips as he, with no knowledge about plumbing or waterworks or even toilet repair, tries to fix one.

you should be unpacking in another room, but instead, you lean against the doorway to the bathroom and just…watch him. that is, until he speaks up.

“baby, can’t we call a plumber?” gojo whines, peering into the toilet tank with one hand sifting through the toolbox at his feet. you stifle a giggle behind his back when he picks up a wrench, eyeing it with a frown.

“nope.” you certainly could, but you want to keep him like this longer. “you said you’d fix the toilet if it broke, and it broke. that’s the only reason i agreed to move in with you.”

“the only reason?” gojo looks over his shoulder at you and gapes. “not because i’m your boyfriend?”

that makes you smile, but that’s not it, either.

you’d been all but living together before this; you’d find his socks in your dryer and your favorite snacks in his pantry, he had a spare toothbrush in the cup by your sink and you had one in his, and you both wore the clothes—his jackets, your coats and sweaters—hanging side by side in your closet.

gojo begged you to move in with him every day. and finally, when you realized you didn’t want to live in a home without his socks, his toothbrush, or his jackets, without him, you said yes.

really, there’s no one else you’d rather move in with.

you pretend to think, listing with your fingers as gojo’s gape gives in to a grin. “you’re also annoying, stubborn…”

“still your boyfriend,” he says, pointing the wrench at you with pride. annoying. despite yourself, your smile widens and doesn’t fade when he turns back to the toilet.

malfunction aside, the toilet is shiny and new, as is the bathroom and the rest of this house. the empty rooms are full of sunlight and wet paint and half-unpacked cardboard boxes holding your and gojo’s things. any surface not covered by a box is by housewarming gifts: cookbooks from geto, puzzle sets from ieiri, and a too-big bouquet from all of gojo’s students that you both ended up having to split between vases, leftover bottles, and whatever else could be used as a container.

but the bathroom is not so empty. a shower curtain from gojo’s old condo hangs over the bathtub, towels from your old apartment pile in a corner, and a cup for your toothbrush and his is on the counter by the sink. not a spare toothbrush—his toothbrush, right beside yours.

your eyes fall back on him, still here in the bathroom with you, trying to fix the toilet. and you think this must be love, too. sharing a space, the toilet and the toothbrush holder and everything else in it, and falling just a little more from that alone.

feeling your eyes on him, gojo glances back at you and, to your dismay, catches you staring. “sure you don’t have any other reasons?” he grins again, and you roll your eyes as he tilts his head at you with a laugh.

oh, you have plenty.

you won’t tell gojo all of them now while he’s in the middle of fixing the toilet. but from the eager look on his face, you think he already knows.

“well,” you start, toeing at the tiles beneath you. they alternate between cream and baby blue, your color of choice for the bathroom tiling and his. “i do love you. like this.”

gojo’s grin widens.

he definitely knows.

he sets the wrench down on the bathroom counter and sidles toward you, an eyebrow raised in equal parts amusement and affection. “you love me fixing our toilet?”

you snort as he gets closer, face now only inches away from yours. “i loved you fixing our toilet. which you still haven’t finished fixing, by the way.”

“tell me more about you loving me first.”

you finally laugh, and he tries—and fails—to bite back a grin at it. “seriously,” he says, nudging your foot with his. “tell me.”

you look up at gojo, and in every single one of the thoughts that come to mind is him.

his shoes are kicked off by yours in the foyer. your reading glasses and his sunglasses lie side by side on the counter. two sets of keys are thrown into the tray, matching mugs are stored in the kitchen cupboards, and your clothes are folded next to his in drawers and closets in the bedroom. on walls and tables all over the house sit pictures of you both in frames.

and here in the bathroom is gojo himself, trying to fix the toilet and making you laugh while doing it.

“i love you here,” you finally say, gesturing with an arm at it all.

and gojo grins even wider at you, wide enough for his cheeks to dip into his dimples, and then you’re sure of it: you’ve never been so in love in your life.

he scoops you up, and you laugh again and throw your arms around him as he laughs with you, spinning you around once, twice, before setting you down on the seat of the toilet. your shared toilet.

“i love you here, too,” he says, grinning as he kisses your nose. “and here—” your forehead, “and here—” your cheek, “and here—”

and as you laugh and try to push him away, only for him to cup your face with his hands and kiss you on the mouth, you fall again, again, again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The glut of tears drains you until you’re forced to sleep. You do so heavily. Your head thrums even through your unconscious and you wake up in no better condition than you dozed off. 

You stay as you are, curled up on one side, and arm clutched the edge of the bed, refusing to acknowledge him. That won’t last. You look around the room that takes you back to that first morning after. A similar disorienting waves washes over you. 

You feel the change. Maybe now that you know the reason why, the symptoms only seem more intense. Your stomach is hollow but uneasy and you’re achy to the bones. And the fatigue. You can’t shake it. You feel like you could sleep for days and still be tired. 

Cautiously, you roll onto your back. You’re alone. He’s not in the bed but he’s there. The muffled clink of dishes assures you of that. You flinch as your heart gives a start. 

You sit up but refuse to get up. Standing up and walking out that door means this is real. It means you have to accept that it is and you’re not stupid enough to believe that won’t happen. You just need this moment to think. 

Barrett is dead. Your old life is over. Your job, your apartment, even your old body. Steve laid it all out. You’re going to quit or he’s going to get you fired. You’re going to have his baby or he’ll... you don’t know? Would he do the same thing he did to your husband? If you don’t have a reason for him to keep you alive, are you just expendable? 

You should be braver. You shouldn’t care. The grief is so gray but gripping that you should want it to be over. Who cares, I’d rather die than live like this. But that’s not true. The thought of death makes you nauseous. Or is that the baby? 

You lurch up to your feet and cup your hand over your mouth as you stagger around. You blink and find your way to the ensuite bathroom. You curl over the toilet and hurl into the bowl. You grip the edge of the counter and the seat as your body racks violently. 

Your stomach keeps squeezing even as there’s nothing left. Your bones feel like they could snap and your throat burns with acid. You collapse to your knees and hug the porcelain. Every now and them, you wretch but can’t even spit up bile. 

Exhausted and panting, you reach to flush, but stay hovering over the toilet water. This is horrible. Like any woman, you’ve heard of the horrors of morning sickness but this seems so much worse. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s shadow appears in the doorway. You sigh and turn your head to see him. He marches across the tile and comes to bend over you. You flinch as he rubs your back. “You okay? Rough morning , huh?” 

You grumble. That’s all you can do. Worse than being in this place that isn’t your own, your body doesn’t feel like yours. It’s as if every part of you is revolting. 

“Here,” he hooks his arm around you and stands you up. 

Your legs are weak as you lean on him. He flips down the toilet lid and sits you on it. You groan and hug your stomach. He draws away to open the cabinet behind the mirror. He takes out a packaged toothbrush and unwraps it. He puts toothpaste on the bristles and hands it to you. You accept it as he fills a white plastic cup with water and slides it across the counter. 

You scrape out the taste of vomit and brush your teeth until your headache is a siren. You stand to rinse and he takes the brush back, placing it in the holder next to his. He coos as he touches your hip and urges you out of the bathroom ahead of him. 

“Come on, I got everything ready for you,” he declares proudly. 

You bristle in wait of the true him. Those tones he growled through last night. That dangerous timbre you can’t argue with. This feels like a facade. Too soft, to nice. He’s playing out some script and you never got a copy. 

The couch has extra pillows and the coffee table has a small lap desk stood on it, a bowl of oat meals and a cup of layered yogurt and fruit, alongside a tall glass of a vibrant smoothie. He points you to sit and you do so only to make your body stop screaming. 

As you get settled, he moves the lap desk over you. 

“At least you’re small enough to use this still,” he chuckles as he stands back. “Oats with cinnamon and blueberries, yogurt with strawberry and chia seed, and a smoothie with lots of extra vitamins. Oh--” he storms away, leaving your speechless. Well, what can you say? 

“Supplements,” he sweeps back in. “The iron won’t help your stomach but the B-6 should. You can try ginger with tea if you still feel off. We’ll hold off asking the doc for medicine but we’ll make sure he gives you the once over.” 

“I already went to a doctor--” 

“My doctor,” he insists as he sets down the little tray of vitamins. “He knows what to watch for.” 

“What to watch for? What--” You wince as your hips pang and your stomach churns again. You tuck your hand down over your middle and force out a breath. 

“Well, I have enhanced biology. When they created the serum, we were at war. They never tested it on pregnant women,” Steve explains. 

“Huh? Serum?” You stammer. 

“The fetus.” He sits lightly beside you and reaches to rub your shoulder. “They assume there would be some effect.” 

“They assume?” You shake your head. 

“Don’t worry, you only have to deal with Bruce. He’s a good guy.” Steve explains. 

You look down at the food. Your nausea blows away like shifting winds and a storm of hunger rises in you. It’s so overwhelming you have the urge to grab the bowl of oatmeal and gulp it down from the brim. Instead, you take the spoon and raise it shakily. 

“We’re gonna do this together,” he coaxes as he caresses your arm. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t ask for anyone stronger to carry my child.” 

That should make you sick but the hunger is too much to ignore. He keeps touching you as you eat. You're so intoxicated by each bite, you hardly notice. More, more, more. Your stomach mulches greedily with each swallow as the world narrows simply to the smell of cinnamon and tartness of blueberries. 

[drmaddict]

Pixie

Summary: The boys react to the new short hair of (Y/n).

Characters: Ghost, Soap, Rudy, König

Wordcount: 1.247

Authors note: To all my short haired girlies who just need a little support.

Ghost

"It's short." He looked at me emotionlessly. There was no reaction apart from this sentence.

"So?", I asked rather nervously.

He just shrugged his shoulders. "Cute.", he said. He tousled my now short hair. "Relax."

I pouted. "That was a big step for me, okay?"

He just took me in his arms. "It looks good." He kissed the top of my head and sneezed right after, because of the tickling stubble. Something he deeply hated doing in front of other people. Simon may be a bull of a man, but he had the sneeze of a kitten.

I stifled my giggles.

He just grumbled, "I'll have to get used to that."

I snuggled against his chest. "You really like it?"

He stroked the short hair on the back of my neck. Cuddled me properly. "I like it... now your spider webs of hair aren't flying around everywhere."

I punched him lightly on the chest. "Ass."

"Love you too." He tugged lightly on a strand of hair and smiled with this look in his eyes, that told me he was just remembering one of the few fond memories from his childhood.

"What?", I asked cautiously.

The tips of his ears turned slightly red. "When I was little, a girl in my class had short hair... Maybe I had a bit of a crush on her."

I grinned at him. "There was someone before me?" I groaned in mock shock.

He rolled his eyes. "I was eight!"

I kissed him lightly. "I love you."

He ran his hand over my head. "Love you, too."

Soap

I walked as quickly as I could through the apartment and into the bathroom. Annoyed, I ripped the shower head from its holder and held my head over the bath. The water ran through my cut of strands and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated the amount of mousse that hairdressers always slammed into my hair.

Like that would change the fact, that I hated the cut. I could feel the tears coming again. I rubbed my hair dry and looked in the mirror, exhausted.

Johnny hesitantly opened the door. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head. I had spent weeks looking for a cut I liked, only to leave the store with "something" on my head.

I pulled up the snot. Johnny gave me a quick hug and ran his fingers through the wet strands. "That's longer than the cut you chose.", he said.

"It's not what I chose at all." I took a deep breath. It was just hair, but the teasing from school still ran deep.

"You give it a quick wash now. Okay?",he mumbled.

I hung my head over the bath and started washing my hair until the sticky feeling was finally gone.

Johnny immediately wrapped a towel around my head and rubbed it dry.

"Sit down.", he just said and sat me on the toilet lid. I saw Johnny standing in front of me with his cell phone and a pair of scissors in his hand.

"What are you going to do?", I asked, irritated.

He just grinned. "I've been cutting my hair for years. I can manage it."

I sighed. "Why not?"

Johnny was beaming like a child at Christmas and studied the picture I had sent him a few days ago in detail. Then he set to work with great concentration, cutting my head more by feel than anything else. It couldn't get any worse than the mushroom hairstyle I left with.

He looked almost professional as he divided the hair and checked every now and then to make sure it was lying the way he wanted it.

Then he rubbed the towel over my head again and nodded with satisfaction. He reached for the hairdryer and put it in place before grabbing one of his various hair gels and styling it.

"Voilà.", he grinned and pulled me up to look in the mirror.

I stared. "That's perfect.", I whispered. Johnny grinned behind me. "I know."

I ran my fingers through the now more beautiful strands. "How are you so good at this?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've been cutting mine forever and every now and then I cut someone's hair at base."

I pulled him in for a kiss. "Thank you."

He ran his hand over the back of my head. "Always."

Rudy

"Morning." he murmured, smiling. I buried myself in the pillow again. I was slow to come back to the land of the living and realized that my scalp felt different. I remembered yesterday. I remembered that I had finally taken the plunge and cut off my hair. I remembered all too well that Rudy had shown me, what he thought of my new look. My neck felt sore. Rudy is and always has been a biter. I ran my hand over my head. "How bad is it?", I asked, still tired.

Rudy laughed lightly. "I thought we established yesterday, that I like it."

I grinned. "Yeah." I peeked at him through one eye. "I meant more the current state."

He stroked my hair. "I think it's cute."

I grinned. "I feel like an Araucana chicken."

He laughed relaxed. "My sweet Araucana chicken."

I buried myself against his chest. Gently, he ran his fingers over my back. "I must confess... It's quite pleasant to not swallow your hair all the time in my slepp."

I laughed. "You're welcome."

He kissed me on the nose and tousled my head. "Does my Araucana chicken want to shower with me?"

I grinned. "Only if my silky fowl comes with me."

He stumbled. "I don't look like a silky."

I grinned. "Just a little bit."

He buried me playfully underneath him and maltreated my neck with his mouth, grinning. I laughed and surrendered to his caresses.

König (Klaus)

I felt big hands running over my head. I rolled my eyes with a grin and looked up from my book.

The mountain of a man, who called himself my boyfriend stood behind me with an embarrassed grin and looked down at me.

"Sorry.", he mumbled.

I shook my head. "That's all right. Let off steam."

He lifted me off the sofa, sat on it himself and then draped me so that I could continue reading on his lap. His hands continued to run through the short strands of hair on my head.

I almost felt like a cat being cuddled. I could understand the little creatures. I put my book aside with a sigh and curled up on top of him.

"I would have cut my hair off much earlier, if I'd known I'd get a head massage every day."

He just grumbled and continued stroking my head.

I let myself be lulled by his fingers, until my eyes fell shut. I was almost in the land of dreams when I was torn from my relaxation.

Pumpkin the cat was standing next to us and screaming at Klaus. It didn't matter that I had rescued the little one. Klaus had been her human from day one. Klaus and only Klaus.

He laughed lightly and lifted the cat onto his lap too. She let him stroke her demonstratively and showed me which of us was number one here.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. Cats.

Klaus pressed a kiss to my lips. Pumpkin immediately rubbed her head at his chin.

"Hey, I saved you. He didn't want you at all!"

He laughed. "My two girls." he sighed.

[itslynzbitxh]

purple || sal fisher x gender neutral reader

fluff

1.1k words

I unlock the door with shaky hands before stepping into our shared apartment.

"Are you sure?" I say, turning to Sal as I kick my shoes off at the door. He nods and unbuckles his prosthetic, setting it down on the coffee table.

"You don't have to, you know," I mumble as I head to the bathroom with the paper bag.

"I know," he says matter-of-factly, trailing behind me. I roll my eyes as I set the bag on the sink before kneeling down to rummage through the cabinets for my supplies. "But I wanna match," he grins lopsidedly into the mirror, running his fingers through his pigtails.

I chuckle softly and stand up with two hair dye bowls in hand. Sal wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder, watching me. I smile softly, leaning into his touch.

"Why do we need two?" he asks curiously.

"Well, you got a lotta hair, babe. The dye's not gonna all fit in one bowl," I explain as I reach into the paper bag and pull out two bottles of hair color: Ppl Eater and Front Row from Good Dye Young.

I look up into the mirror, taking in both of our reflections. My hair was a freshly-dyed vibrant red-violet. It had been blue for months until I decided to dye it purple on a whim yesterday. Sal came home from Larry's that night and pouted, complaining that we didn't match anymore. This morning, he'd asked me if I would help him dye it purple. I hesitated at first as he'd only ever had blue in the time I'd known him, but he badgered me until I agreed.

I run my fingers through his blue hair one last time.

"I'm gonna miss it. Larry's not even gonna recognize you," I chuckle. Sal grins and tightens his grip around me.

"Larry can kiss my ass for all I care. I wanna match with my beautiful partner." He presses a kiss to my neck, eliciting a soft giggle from me. "Can't have you looking better than me, can we?" he teases.

"Watch yourself there, hotshot," I say with a smirk, rolling my eyes. Sal laughs, the sound reverberating into my back.

I start to squeeze the color into the bowls and mix the two colors together, trying to match the red-violet shade of my own hair. After a few minutes, I've gotten as close as I think I can get. I look up at Sal.

"Whatcha think?" I hold the brush up, letting a glob of hair dye fall back into the bowl. It makes a loud plop, splattering several droplets on the white sink. I grimace.

"I think we're not getting our deposit back," Sal quips. I stick my tongue out at him.

"That was gone the first time I dyed my hair in this apartment," I reply. Sal chuckles.

"I'm ready now if you are." I look at him.

"Fuck yeah," he says excitedly, nodding.

"Sit down, and we can get started." I gesture to the closed toilet seat lid. He kisses my cheek and lets go of me, sitting down. I gently pull the ponytail holders out of his pigtails.

"Ow!" he exclaims dramatically. I roll my eyes.

"So whiney," I tease. He pouts playfully at me. I laugh and take out the second pigtail. I rustle his hair a little. He smiles up at me.

"Gotta say goodbye to my blue-haired boy."

"Hey, you didn't let me say goodbye to my blue-haired lover," he reminds me.

"I've been a thousand colors, love. I didn't think you'd be so attached to my blue," I say as I section his hair up with a claw clip.

"Well, when you dyed it blue, I couldn't look at my hair without thinking of you," he says softly. "I liked that."

I blush slightly, my heart fluttering at his sweet words. I smile at him softly and press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"You're sweet. Now's your last chance to back out though," I tell him as I give the hair color one last stir before grabbing the brush and bringing it towards his head.

"Nope." He shakes his head with a grin. I laugh and apply the first streak of color onto the back of his hair.

I carefully start working the color into his blue hair, being more attentive than when I'm doing my own hair.

"This is gonna take a while. Wanna put on some music?" I ask as I apply the color in sections.

Sal nods, pulling out his phone and connecting to my speaker. After a moment, one of my favorite songs, "Black No. 1" by Type O Negative, starts playing. I chuckle softly.

"This song always reminds me of you," he smiles up at me.

"I haven't had black hair in years though," I tell him. He shrugs.

"Maybe we can do that next."

"Oh, a black-haired Sally Face would be unstoppable," I grin at him. He blushes slightly.

"You think?" he says softly. He always struggled to receive compliments, but so did I.

"I know. You'd be the ultimate emo boy," I tease, biting my tongue.

"I am NOT emo!" he exclaims. I laugh loudly. "I am punk rock, you bastard."

I laugh again as I apply more color.

"Uh-huh." He glares up at me. I grin. "I know you're not." He nods, satisfied by my answer. "But you know what song reminds me of you?"

He glares up at me again with a playful and curious expression in his eyes. "What song?"

I giggle and gesture for his phone. He sighs and hands it to me. I laugh to myself as I add a certain song to the queue. I set his phone down with a mischievous grin. He narrows his eyes at me.

"What song?" he asks again.

"Patience, Sally," he rolls his eyes at me. I continue coloring his hair, finishing up the back and moving on to a new section.

The Type O Negative song continues, and I forget that I added a song to the queue until after the eleven-minute song finishes. "Emo Boy" by Ayesha Erotica starts playing. I laugh to myself as Sally groans and blushes, glaring at me.

"I hate you," he mumbles, trying to suppress the smile tugging on his lips.

"Sure you do."

He shakes his head playfully and laughs, grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him to stand in between his legs. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my chest.

"You're lucky I love you," he mumbles into me. I yelp slightly, cold purple hair color getting on my white shirt.

"Sally!" I groan. He laughs and looks up at me with a smirk.

"Oops," he says sarcastically.

"You're lucky I love you." I repeat his words with a smile, not really caring that much about the shirt.

"Yes, I am," he says softly as he pulls me closer.

~~

this is my first tumblr fic ! (i wrote on wattpad back in the og days)

hope y'all enjoy! should i do a nsfw part two?

also requests are open !

<3

[skele-bunny]

okay okay okay gimme pregnant swiss!!! (with mountain ofc)

Self Conscious. (CW) Mountain/Swiss

CW - Self Image Issues, "fat" used negatively

Characters: Swiss, Mountain

(Hi STINKY 🫵 Swissalps for you. Fluff post! Divider by @ wrathofrats )

Staring into the mirror felt like a burden. A disgrace and reminder of how tormented and swollen Swiss felt. His eyes lingered as he turned, grimace worsening as his very obvious, very big, very fat pregnant stomach looked back. Carrying twins wasn't pretty, Swiss knew it wouldn't be. He just didn't expect it to look so bad on him. After all, Swiss was only three months pregnant at this point. He felt disproportionate. His keyhole scars around his chest just a bright pink as his breasts started swelling again, leading to another thing Swiss hated about his current stature.

Stretch marks ran up his sides, armpits, and more importantly his stomach. The soft flesh just above his genitals had started swelling just as much to the point he required help to shave himself. Needless to say, Swiss felt fucking ugly.

The multi turned to see skin rolls on his back, and that just seemed to set him off. Tears slowly swelled before openly crying, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He used the sink counter to lower onto the closed toilet seat, tail wrapping around his thigh and squeezing for some kind of reassurance that did nothing but make it worse as Swiss eyed the extra fat it squeezed.

His sobs wracked through his body, setting off a surge of both hormones and elements, dead flowers popping up through his frazzled hair he hadn't gotten done yet. Even worse, his body felt hotter than normal, hand going to his chest as a warning burp made itself known. He was a mess. Through and through. Another wail left, finger pads pushing into his round stomach.

"Petal?" A knock at the closed bathroom door echoed, Mountain's scent of worry becoming obvious as the smell of wet dirt clouded. "Are you alright? I could smell you from the kitchen."

The sentence hit worse, Swiss now too obvious of his own body odor from not showering yet. "G-Go away!" He sobbed again.

"Oh, darling... What's the matter?"

Swiss couldn't find it in himself to respond, frantically wiping his cheeks and shaking his head. The door knob jiggled before a silent curse, a tiny vine slipping through the keyhole and the wooden door opened, Swiss snapping his head up and grabbing the roll of toilet paper near to throw at Mountain's head—Who thankfully ducked in time.

"Get out!" He now grabbed their toothbrush holder, throwing it next. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Mountain lifted his hand, catching the container quickly but placing it back down with gentleness. "Swiss... What's the matter?" He got down to one knee, ignoring as Swiss pushed at his shoulders and chest.

He kept sobbing, "Get away from me! I-I smell bad, and you said you could smell me, and I don't even know how you can stand looking at me!" Swiss fumbled as Mountain carefully grabbed his wrists, concern written on the earth ghoul.

"Darling, you smell distressed, not bad... Sweetheart..." Mountain whined, lifting his hands away to carefully wipe away tears that fell from his mates puffy face. "What's ailing you?"

Moving to lean into Mountain's calloused palms, Swiss sniffled again, his ears drooped. "I feel so ugly, Mount... I can't stand looking at myself anymore. I try t-to find positives in everything but I just can't. I'm not cut out for this..."

In an instant, Mountain's heart shattered. In his eyes, Swiss was the representation of the sun and moon, the existence of both life and death. He was beautiful. Represented every single thing Mountain loved, packed into one. To know his mate seen himself in such a negative light hurt him, better yet the fact of how much his mate was hurting—unbeknownst to Mountain this entire time.

"Are you having second thoughts?" He asked quietly, leaning up to rest his chin on Swiss' shoulder so the other could dead weight against him.

"No—Maybe? I don't know... I feel so lost. I feel so disgusting about everything. I love you, I love our children, but I can't... Love myself. I can't love the fact that me growing our kits is doing this to me."

The earth ghoul trilled, tail swaying some as he thought for a moment. "Can I use my logic?"

"I love your logic." Swiss laughed some, letting tears continue to quietly go down Mountain's shoulder.

"Okay, well... Tell me what you're not liking."

"My breasts are coming back."

"Well, since you stopped testosterone, your estrogen is coming back in play. Our bodies are quick to adapt, and you're in another adaptation stage. They're now clicking into your other hormones like prolactin which is causing the growth. However, since you had top surgery, your prolactin is trying to fill in the gaps which is causing the bumps." Mountain moved back, showing Swiss the bumps along his chest. "They're swelling your ducts more to prepare for the kits as you're carrying multiple and don't have bigger areas to swell at. However, once the kits get out of a nursing stage, you'll start getting flat again."

"So it's not," Swiss looked up, grimacing just a bit. "Forever?"

"No. Not forever. They may have a bit of a swelling for a long time, but not outright breasts. You'll just have some Aether tits." That caused a laugh from the multi, slowly kicking his feet back and forth.

"My stomach."

The taller moved down again, nuzzling his face against the bump and kissing it gently. "Your uterus is creating extra layers of protection and enlarging itself for nutrients and more blood flow using endometrium. Since you're growing two rascals, it's having to expand more to adjust to their sizes. Earth kits are known for being giants... Let alone the sac placed around them. But your body is adjusting to the size change and actively going to keep them healthy."

Swiss stayed silent, looking down as Mountain caressed his stomach. His fingers were so delicate, going up his stretch marks to his belly button. He leaned in once more to place a kiss.

"If you're worried about what you'll look like after, our skin is elastic. It's how we're able to shift through our forms without ripping ourselves open. You can maintain your size, if that's what you want, or simply use your elasticity to shimmer back down. Your stretch marks, though, won't go away..." Mountain sighed, admiring his mate's skin. "But I love them. Baphomet save me, I love them so much. Every single one of them."

A small laugh, "Even the ones on my cooch?"

"Even the ones on your cooch."

Leaning down, Swiss gently cupped Mountain's jaw so they could make eye contact. "Do you promise that you still love me? That I'm attractive? I don't even fit in your clothes anymore..."

"Oh, petal... I think if mother nature was a person, it'd be you. I think you're more beautiful than the earth." Swiss' heart jumped, tears swelling up more.

It was a serious mockery to ghouls to whisper your love more than your element, but such a strong example of devotion. Swiss wrapped his arms around Mountain's neck, crying harder against his shoulder. Never once did Mountain let go of Swiss, purring and sending comforting pheromones to try and relax.

Wiping his eyes on Mountain's collar, Swiss exhaled. "I need to shower and do my hair, I just need to feel... Better."

"Want me to help you?"

"...Please." Swiss nodded. "I need to shave."

"Ahh, deforestation. The bane of my existence."

Swiss broke into hysterical laughter, covering his mouth as he snorted. Even Mountain kept a smile as he leaned over to turn on their shower, making sure the temperature was comfortable.

"Am I washing your hair?" He asked, questioning to grab Swiss' shower cap or not.

"Yeah." Mountain placed the cap back on their shower caddy.

Slowly stripping himself, Swiss couldn't help but eye the stretch marks Mountain had on his back, slowly looking down at his thighs that had similar design. He smiled somewhat, rubbing his thumb over the discolored line.

"And what would my darling like his style to be once we're done?" Mountain scooped Swiss up, stepping them into the warm water, sitting him on the shower stool. "Are we thinking buns, are we thinking top knots, maybe even twists?" His claws gently began to rake through Swiss' messy afro, pick carefully sectioning his hair.

The sigh of relief that left Swiss could easily be mistaken for a moan, Mountain's tail twitching in response. He gave a chuckle, moving to kiss his mate's forehead.

"Dealers choice?"

Swiss nodded, moving his back against Mountain's fur-covered legs. "Yeah... Dealer's choice."

[nattysstargirl]

The Beast of my Dreams

Chapter 3.

Word count: 3250

TW 18+: dry humping, dirty talk, fingering, cursing, praise, brief anal play(over clothing)

A/N: enjoy

Natasha walks her back to the dorm building. She stays close but keeps her hands in her jacket pocket. Y/N steals looks at her. Clothes cover most of her skin, but a strip of skin on her neck is visible beneath her undercut. Dark red ink swirls from the collar of her shirt and licks toward her hairline. Y/N tries to imagine the rest of the tattoo, and she decides it covers Natasha's whole back. She can't guess at the design from the few strands she can see, but she knows she'll wonder about it later. 

"Do you live on campus?" Y/N asks after a few minutes of silence. 

"Slightly off," Natasha says. "Walking distance though. I live with my family." 

"Oh, that's nice." Y/N always tries to keep the sadness out of her voice when she talks about family, but apparently she doesn't succeed this time. 

"Are you not close with yours?" 

"Not really. No siblings, Dad bounced a while ago, and Mom... You know how moms are." 

Natasha smiles sympathetically, but Y/N can tell she doesn't empathize personally. They arrive at the front door of Y/N's building. She turns to Natasha. "Well, thanks for the rescue. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime at all," Natasha says quietly. 

The security light sparks gold to life in her green eyes. They're pretty. 

"Do you want to come up?" Y/N asks suddenly. "My roommate might be home, but we could...watch a show or something. I've got ice cream." 

Natasha smiles. "I'm lactose intolerant." 

"Ah." Y/N's heart sinks a little. 

"But I've got nothing going on tonight." 

Y/N smiles. "Really? Awesome." 

The elevator ride to the sixth floor is quiet. Y/N's mind is solidly on MJ's advice and wondering what Natasha's hands look like. She wishes she'd take them out of her pockets. And the tattoo on her back... Excitement curls through Y/N's belly.

Natasha's definitely into girls. The way she dresses and walks and how she put those guys in their place like they were nothing. There's no way she's straight. Y/N peeks at her without turning her head. Natasha watches the numbers climb on the little LED screen. 

She doesn't fidget or rock on her feet. Just standing stock still with her hands in her jacket and her jaw set. The elevator dings, and Natasha waits for Y/N to leave first. 

"Thanks," Y/N says, feeling stupid for it right after. It's not like she pulled her chair out for her. She just doesn't know where Y/N's dorm is and couldn't reasonably take the lead. Y/N hurries to her room and unlocks it, peeking in and smiling when she sees Peggy isn't home. She must be out with her boyfriend, and it's early, so they probably have a few hours. 

"Come on in," she says. She closes and locks the door after Natasha is inside. Natasha evaluates the dorm silently. 

"It's not much," Y/N offers. "But here..." She pulls the extra pillows she keeps stored under her bed and props them in the corner of her wall, making a cozy little couch situation. "You can leave your shoes and jacket there, if you'd like. I need to pee, but make yourself comfortable! Snacks in the fridge." Y/N hurries into the bathroom. She pulls her hoodie off. Her outfit is limited to what she has on her, since Peggy has a strict rule about no clothes in the bathroom. She has a toilet and mirror to work with. She leaves the hoodie on the back of the toilet and evaluates her outfit. 

Jeans, red long-sleeved flannel, and a ponytail. She yanks the ponytail holder and fluffs her hair. She washed it last night, so it looks...fine. She rolls the sleeves of her flannel to her elbows, undoes the top two buttons, then undoes the bottom few to tie it in a knot above her navel. It looks a little try-hard, but for all Natasha knows, she was wearing it like this under her hoodie the whole time. She looks cute. She uses the toilet while she's in there, then heads out and hurriedly washes her hands in the kitchen sink. She dries them thoroughly then turns to find Natasha relaxed on her bed. 

She took off her boots and jacket, leaving her in a skintight black t-shirt with sleeves curling on the edges because her biceps are so thick. Y/N gulps. Natasha is wearing gray joggers, and they're set low on her hips, exposing a strip of toned abs and the band of gray Calvin Klein underwear. 

"Oh, hey!" Y/N says. She unbuttons her flannel two more down to expose her sports bra. "We match." 

Natasha's eyes track slowly down from Y/N's eyes to her chest. "Look at that." Y/N smiles and leaves her shirt unbuttoned. She bends to pull her laptop from under the bed, where she keeps everything, and climbs in next to Natasha. 

"You wearing jeans in bed?" Natasha asks. "I can barely wear them walking around." 

"You're so right. Do you mind if I...?" Y/N drops one hand to her jeans hem. 

"Your house, babe," Natasha says. 

Y/N turns her head to hide the blush at being called "babe" by a hot dyke. She tugs off her jeans like it's a totally casual thing she does with near-strangers all the time. "Whew," she says, "that's better." 

Natasha scoots a few inches over to allow Y/N room to stretch out beside her. They rest their backs against her pillow corner, and Y/N plops the never-used ironing board attached to her wall down to hold the laptop. It was already installed when she moved in, and it makes a great Netflix desk. It hovers a foot above their laps, trapping them in together like babies in a double highchair. 

"What kinda stuff are you into?" Y/N asks. She glances at Natasha. Natasha's face is only a few inches from hers, and her eyes are moving around Y/N's torso and neck before locking with her gaze.

"Whatever you're into," Natasha says. 

Y/N's stomach flips. "Okay..." She clears her throat and hits "shuffle" on her Netflix profile. 

A quiet period drama she's never seen starts playing. It seems pretty benign and not particularly interesting, which is exactly what she was hoping for. Y/N tries to look casual, but every inch of her body is on fire and acutely aware of every small move Natasha makes beside her. Natasha shifts her hips and chuckles. 

"Ow." 

"You okay?" Y/N asks quickly. 

"Small bed," Natasha offers. She bops her head gently against the wall as an example of the close quarters and smiles. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Y/N says, immediately insecure that she's being pushy and weird. "I can um, I can move to my roommate's bed, or—" Natasha moves one arm behind Y/N's back and one under her knees. She pulls her into her lap. It's not as obscene as it could have been, because Natasha has a pillow over her thighs, so there's a buffer between her crotch and Y/N's ass. Tragically. 

"Oh," Y/N breathes. 

"Yeah, this works." Natasha watches her face carefully as she pulls the blanket from her knees and up around Y/N's shoulders. 

"Are you still cold?" she whispers. 

Y/N's entire body is flush as she turns her head back to the laptop. "No, ma'am." Natasha's arms tuck Y/N close to her chest, and she rests her chin on her shoulder near her neck. Y/N can feel her exhale, and her skin prickles everywhere it touches.

They pretend to watch the show, but every ounce of Y/N's attention is on Natasha's right hand tracing slow circles on her hipbone. It seems like an innocent caress at first, but the longer it goes on, the more Y/N's mind transforms it into something incredibly suggestive. 

Natasha's finger catches the band of her underwear and Y/N inhales sharply. Natasha's hand immediately retreats. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I just... Sorry if I misread something." 

Y/N twists to catch Natasha's mouth in a kiss. Her landing was abrupt, but she softens and slows to give Natasha time to adjust. Am I really doing this? Y/N's not sure how seriously she's taking the alleged curse, but she's always wished she was more daring with women.

Men are so easy, but Y/N can count the number of women she's initiated a kiss with on one hand. Natasha exhales and relaxes back into the pillow, gathering Y/N into both arms. It starts tame, polite and close-mouthed. Then Natasha's lips part to lick along Y/N's. 

Y/N opens her mouth to give Natasha access. She feels her smile. Natasha's tongue gently slips inside until it touches Y/N's. Y/N loses track of lips and tongues and forgets where she is until Natasha's teeth trap her bottom lip. Y/N moans. 

"That okay?" Natasha whispers. 

"That's so okay," Y/N says. 

She flips around to face Natasha with her legs around her hips. She wraps a hand around Natasha's neck and jaw to pull her face toward her. Natasha's pupils go dark, and she kisses Y/N. Hard. Y/N whimpers and quietly rocks her hips, trying to find some friction against the pillow to satiate the burning need that's been growing between her legs since they got back to the dorm. She's never been so attracted to anyone this quickly.

Natasha has something that's driving her insane, and she needs more, now. The pillow is soft, giving her nearly no satisfaction. She reaches behind her to pull it away, but Natasha's quicker. She slides down a little further so she can pull Y/N against the trunk of her midsection. Her abs feel even harder than they look. With just her underwear separating them, Y/N purrs at the sensation of warmth from Natasha's body against her clit. 

She grinds unabashedly. Natasha's fingers curl roughly into her hips, dragging her harder. She bucks her body in time with Y/N's movement. "Oh, shit..." Y/N's thoughts go hazy. She has a death grip on Natasha's shoulders, and she's sliding as hard as she can up and down her flexed belly. It feels better than any sex she can remember having. Natasha makes her head swim. One of Natasha's hands stays firmly on Y/N's hip, but the other moves to grip an ass cheek. 

"Yeah, baby," Y/N whispers. "That feels so good." 

Natasha seems to take that as an invitation and moves her hand down Y/N's crack to press her fingers against her asshole. She doesn't push inside, she just applies a delicious pressure outside of her panties that makes Y/N buck even wilder. 

"Are you going to cum on me like that, Y/N?" Natasha asks. 

"Do you want me to?" Y/N pants. 

"Yes." 

"Tell me. Tell me to do it." 

"Mmm." Natasha tightens her grip on her hip and increases the pressure she's putting on Y/N's ass. 

"Harder." Y/N doesn't need to be told twice. She grinds harder and whimpers. 

"Good girl," Natasha mutters in her ear. "That's a good girl." 

Y/N bites her lip. She's panting fast from the exertion and excitement, and her legs shake. 

"Cum for me," Natasha whispers. "I want to feel it."  

Y/N gasps and orgasms immediately. It rips through her whole body, from her scalp to her spasming pussy. Natasha must be able to feel it, because she groans and presses her hand against everything she can reach without moving Y/N's underwear. She keeps her grip hard there until Y/N calms down and rests against Natasha. Natasha releases Y/N's hip and brushes her hair behind her ear. 

"Very, very good girl," she whispers. 

Y/N shudders with pleasure and kisses Natasha's shoulder. With her demanding need met, an awkwardness creeps into her consciousness. She just humped a stranger's abs and came on her. She notices how wet she is now, and Natasha is definitely slick with her. That's an embarrassing thing to do, right? Natasha doesn't seem to think so. She's nuzzling her face from Y/N's shoulder into her hair and back. 

"Can I touch you?" Natasha asks. 

"You can do literally anything you want to me," Y/N says, out of breath. 

"Turn over." Natasha's voice is firm, but not rough. 

Y/N doesn't mind obeying. In fact, she's happy to. She didn't realize how much she enjoys being told what to do. This is kind of new. She turns over again, struggling on shaking legs, settling onto the pillow in Natasha's lap. She thinks about pulling it out again, but Natasha's already pinned her down with a hard arm across her hips. Y/N leans back against her chest contentedly, dropping her head to rest against Natasha's shoulder. 

"Do your worst," she says, completely comfortable and trusting with this stranger. 

Natasha keeps an arm around her hips, leaving her other hand free to rub across Y/N's thighs. She makes gentle routes up the outside of her thigh, down the inside, crushingly skipping her pussy, slipping around to squeeze her ass. Y/N hums contentedly, loving the feeling of surrendering control to this incredibly attractive woman.

This feels like a scenario she would dream up. Natasha pulls the blanket over Y/N, then tugs the buttons of her flannel until it's fully opened. She runs her hands over Y/N's midsection, up to her bra. She doesn't move it or take it off, opting to grab her gently over the thin material. 

Y/N's nipples are hard as soon as she touches them. When Natasha feels how quickly they respond to her, she growls. Y/N giggles. "Was that a growl?" Natasha bites gently at her earlobe and Y/N's eyes flutter closed. She presses her back harder into Natasha's chest. Natasha's hand grabs her whole pussy over her underwear and Y/N gasps, then moans so Natasha knows it's a good gasp.

She pushes her hips up to get more friction against her palm. Natasha's hand slips under the band, and her fingers are gentle in their exploration. She pets Y/N's soft curls, which are sopping wet, alternating between gentle tickles with her fingertips and rough grabs of the whole situation. 

Y/N rocks her hips again, silently begging to be fucked, but she's enjoying Natasha following her whims too much to request anything different. She doesn't have to wait long, though. Natash parts her pussy lips with her middle finger and runs along the length of it, dipping inside once to wet her finger and back out to rub circles on her clit. 

"Ohh," Y/N breathes. "Oh, you're good at that." Natasha releases Y/N's hip, dragging that hand up her middle, between her breasts, to wrap her throat. Her right hand moves from Y/N's clit to push three fingers inside her. She gasps. 

"You like that?" Natasha asks. Y/N nods hard. "Fuck my hand," she commands. 

Y/N braces her palms on Y/N's hips and pushes her hips up obediently. She finds a rhythm and winds her hips in circles as she slams into Natasha's fingers. 

"Fuck," Y/N whispers. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's so good." 

Natasha pulls her closer, biting her shoulder and keeping her free hand wrapped around Y/N's throat. Y/N is thrilled to realize that Natasha's legs have spread further, and she's fucking the pillow. Y/N wishes the pillow wasn't there so she could feel Natasha against her ass and inside of her at the same time.

That thought makes her groan loudly, and she bounces against Natasha's fingers harder. They're so thick, and she can feel her orgasm already growing again. She grabs Natasha's wrist with one hand to push her in as far as she'll go, her eyes rolling back in her head at how long they are. She's fucked men with shorter penises. God, this feels amazing. 

Natasha's panting just as loudly. "Good girl," she moans. "Good girl. Come on now." 

Y/N knows what Natasha wants, so she slams her hips harder, pulling Natasha's fingers all the way inside with each thrust so she can rub her clit against the heel of Natasha's hand. Natasha jerks her hips harder too, then finally releases her grip on Y/N's throat to tap her middle and ring fingers against her mouth. Y/N opens her lips and sucks the fingers in. Natasha pushes them to the back of her tongue, and Y/N eagerly opens her throat. When Natasha growls and grinds harder at the first choking noise, Y/N takes the fingers deeper and gags again. Natasha fucks her with both hands, and Y/N gets closer with every choke. 

"That's my good girl," Natasha whispers so quietly it's almost imperceptible over Y/N's moans. 

Her pussy clenches on Natasha's fingers, and Natasha pushes all the way inside, gripping onto her with her other fingers, like she needs to hold herself inside or she'll die. Y/N's back arches, and Natasha slides her fingers from her mouth so Y/N can moan. 

"Oh, my God! FUCK!" She arches harder as her orgasm rattles her body. 

Natasha grunts and shudders, gripping Y/N's hips with both arms and thrusting against her, hard, three more times before she relaxes. "Did you just—" Y/N starts, then stops. Natasha clearly came. Y/N smiles and flips over to straddle Natasha's hips. The stupid pillow is still in the way, so she reaches down to pull it out, but Natasha grabs her chin and pulls her into a long, gentle kiss. Y/N forgets where she is again. Natasha shudders a long inhale. 

"Mmm." She pulls from the kiss and looks at Y/N. "You're fun." 

"You're fun, what the fuck." Y/N chuckles. "I thought you were weird and creepy when I saw you in class. I mean—" Natasha narrows her eyes, then grips Y/N's chin and pushes three fingers into her mouth. The three that were just inside of Y/N's cunt. Y/N's heart thrums with excitement. She keeps eye contact with Natasha as she runs her tongue thoroughly over and between each digit, sucking contentedly as she cleans up her own mess. Then she pushes Natasha's hand in further, opening her throat to take the fingers as far down as they can go. Her throat constricts, and she gags until her eyes water. Natasha watches her with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Y/N sucks hard as she pulls Natasha's hand back out. Natasha's pupils are dilated again, and she swallows. 

"Anything else you'd like from me?" Y/N whispers. 

Keys rattle outside the door, and it's opening before they can react. Y/N slides between Natasha and the wall, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders. Peggy walks in and rolls her eyes as soon as she sees them. 

"Y/N. Communal space." 

"I was just leaving," Natasha says. She slips from the blanket without uncovering Y/N. She grabs her jacket and wraps it around her waist before tugging on her boots. She leaves without tying them, and without a goodbye. 

Y/N watches the closed door. Fuck.

[simdertalia]

🛀🏽 ACNH Bath Set 🧼

40 items | Sims 4, base game compatible, except for items that have the steam animation. This animation requires Cats & Dogs.

Some items have extra swatches added by me ❤️ All surfaces have slots. The Aroma Candle Holder has been made to fit the small tealight candle HERE (second post from the top)

Type “ACNH Bath” into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

I hope you enjoy!

Set contains: -Aquarius Vase (with steam animation) | 3 swatches for water color | 1196 poly -Aroma Candle | 7 swatches | 1068 poly -Aromatherapy Sticks | 9 swatches | 930 poly -Bidet | 8 swatches | 1218 poly -Bubble Tea Decor | 5 swatches | 546 poly -Elegant Mirror | 8 swatches | 1225 poly -Fan Palm Plant | 6 swatches | 1522 poly -Flower Shower (functional) | 6 swatches | 1198 poly -Humidifier (no animation) | 9 swatch | 706 poly -Humidifier (steam animation) | 9 swatches | 796 poly -Japanese Toilet | 1 swatch | 1200 poly -Jar of Soaps (made by me ❤️) | 10 swatches | 414 poly -Leaf Accent Table | 8 swatches | 956 poly -Long Ivy Planter | 9 swatches | 2307 poly -Magazine Rack | 60 swatches | 536 poly -Makeup Bag | 28 swatches | 1198 poly -Plunger | 2 swatches | 332 poly -Pottery Pitcher | 6 swatches | 1096 poly -Rattan Stool | 6 swatches | 730 poly -Rattan Wardrobe Closet | 6 swatches | 1206 poly -Sauna Heater (steam animation) | 2 swatches | 1202 poly -Shampoo Bottle | 24 swatches | 620 poly -Shower Cap Decor | 5 swatches | 1202 poly -Sink Stand (functional) | 6 swatches | 992 poly -Sleep Mask Decor | 1 swatch | 604 poly -Stairs Dresser (functional) | 5 swatches | 1814 poly -Bath Stool (surface) | 8 swatches | 1142 poly -Succulent Plant Pot | 1 swatch | 1189 poly -Table Mirror | 9 swatches | 952 poly -Toilet Brush | 4 swatches | 566 poly -Toilet Roll Holder | 2 swatches | 356 poly -Toilet Roll Single | 3 swatches | 242 poly -Toilet Roll Stack | 3 swatches | 950 poly -Toothbrush Mug | 24 swatches | 1148 poly -Towel Rack | 18 swatches | 1232 poly -Towels Folded | 11 swatches | 176 poly -Towels Folded with slot | 11 swatches | 176 poly -Tub Cabriole (functional) | 12 swatches | 2232 poly -Urinal | 2 swatches | 1188 poly -Wood Screen Shelf | 8 swatches | 1184 poly

📁 Download (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Download (still no ads): HERE 

-Mermaid Oil Painting CC

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming!

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Thank you for reblogging ❤️❤️❤️

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[440mxs-wife]

The Country Doctor, Chapter 2: Getting Moved In

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader (eventual). Other Characters are the usual suspects: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Spock, Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, and Pavel Chekov. OMC's Travis Myers and Miles Cooper.

Word Count: 4549

Warnings: Divorce, break-up, ruthless businessmen, mentions of infidelity, but still somewhat fluffy (for now), with an introduction of our supporting cast of characters

Summary: Fresh off of his divorce, Dr. McCoy receives word that he has inherited a 5,000-acre farm and home in Logan, Montana. Finally, he has an opportunity for a clean slate and to start his own clinic out west and leave his ex-wife behind. Along the way, he'll meet a cast of unique characters, each with a place in his new small-town life. But there could be trouble ahead in the form of a powerful CEO hell-bent on acquiring Leonard's property by any means necessary.

A/N: This idea was posted by @hailbop1701, with a specific list of plot points/dialog to be included. I won't put the list here, because it'll give away too much. Not sure how many parts there'll be, but I hope you like where I take the story.

A/N 2: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, or would rather leave the Crazy Train, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After your nickel tour, you and Leonard had time to unpack a few boxes before the pizza arrived. Each bathroom was now outfitted with clean, folded towels and a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder. He had claimed the master bedroom and in the ensuite bathroom, you put his toothbrush into a cup next to the sink. The kitchen was next, with the dinnerware and cookware all neatly stacked in the cupboards, then the silverware sorted by type in the drawer.

Next, you rolled Leonard's suitcases down the hall to his room and stopped in front of the closet. You placed the largest one on the seat of the chair near the window and rolled the other to a stop beside it. When you unzipped the first one, a wave of cologne was released. The concentrated and distinctly male scent should've knocked you over, but it didn't. It wasn't unpleasant, rather, it enveloped you in a warmth you'd been missing since before the break-up with Travis.

Leonard approached the open door of his bedroom in time to see you examining the contents of the open suitcase. He quietly observed as you smiled and slowly brushed your hand over the neatly folded T-shirts. Most of his shirts were of solid colors, like black, white, or gray for wearing under his scrubs at work. Though he wondered how you'd appreciate the humor in his shirts that had clever quips or if you'd question his musical taste from past concerts. 

He leaned against the doorframe and watched as you picked up a stack then carefully placed them in the top right dresser drawer. While you transferred the contents of his suitcase to their respective drawers, his ears perked up at the song you were humming under your breath. Even though he'd told Kirk his only interest was "doctorin'", you were certainly testing his resolve. He was intrigued by the sway of your hips as you moved around the room.

As you turned around to swap one suitcase for the other, your eyes landed on Leonard, whose lips were tugged into a wry grin. You stopped with a yelp of surprise and clutched a hand to your chest. "Dr. McCoy, um, how long have you been standing there?" you gasped.

He pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked over to the suitcases on the floor. "Not long, I came by to let you know that Jim and Nyota are back with pizza. Time to take a break, then after dinner, we can tackle whatever unpacking we have left," he remarked, holding out a hand for you to take.

"Are you sure? There doesn't look to be too much left to unpack. How about I finish up this last little bit, then I can join you all after I'm done," you offered.

"Nah, it's break time. I promise this will all be waiting for us after we have some food, darlin'," he drawled, the endearment slipping out effortlessly. "Besides, I'll bet you haven't eaten much of anything since you and your friend drove out here."

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly in response, bringing a flash of heat to your cheeks at the noise. "Sorry about that, Dr. McCoy," you giggled nervously.

Leonard shook his head in amusement. "Nothin' to be sorry for, and you can call me 'Leonard', since we're gonna be working together. No need to be formal," he winked.

Another rush of heat hit your cheeks, but this time it was for a different reason. Under other circumstances, you might have thought Dr. McCoy was flirting with you. However, you knew he was only being friendly and wanted to start the working relationship on a good note. You pushed these thoughts aside and invited him to call you by your first name as well. Then you slid your hand into his outstretched one and walked together out to the dining room.

***

As soon as the smell of the freshly baked pizzas hit your nostrils, your stomach growled again from hunger. Your first two slices were gone in nothing flat, much to your chagrin, but to the amusement of the others. You smiled sheepishly and acknowledged that perhaps you were more famished than you realized, which caused a renewed round of laughter. Another slice found its way onto your plate, this time with a thick crust and extra cheese.

Though the dining table had been put in its place, the surface was covered in moving boxes. The four of you made do by sitting on the floor, each with a moving box as a makeshift table. While everyone was enjoying the indoor picnic, you and Uhura brought the other two up to speed on the town.

You pointed out that Leonard's first connection should be with Mr. Spock, the pharmacist. "He manages Mountain Vista Pharmacy, so all of your prescriptions will run through him," you explained. "He has a somewhat....dry sense of humor, but he knows his stuff."

Uhura promised that at some point, she would introduce Jim and Leonard to Guinan, the bartender at The Tenth Avenue Pub. "She runs a tight ship, but insists that she just 'tends bar, and she listens'", she commented with a slight roll of her eyes. "Also, if you ever want to do any landscaping out here, like flowers or trees, or some gardening, you'll want to see Mr. Hikaru Sulu. He runs the plant nursery called, 'Ev'ry Bloomin' Thing', and can tell you what will grow best out here."

Jim chuckled. "It's a little late in the season for that and I'm not sure that's our forté. Still, it's good to know," he remarked, while Leonard nodded in agreement.

"And with any repairs or remodels of what you want to do with this house, Montgomery Scott will be your go-to for that," you mentioned. "We call him 'The Miracle Worker', because of his vast knowledge of how to fix almost everything with nearly nothing."

Leonard and Jim nodded as they ate, taking in the wealth of information you and Nyota provided. Soon there were only a few slices of pizza remaining in the boxes, which were later tucked away in the refrigerator. After the dinner remnants were cleared away, you resumed the unpacking in Leonard's room.

Once both suitcases were empty, you stowed them in the closet and moved on to the next room. By this time, the linens had been located and it was time to make the beds. You and Leonard put the sheets and blankets on his bed, while Jim and Uhura did the same in his room. It was close to midnight when you decided to call it a night.

The men thanked you and insisted that they could handle the rest of the unpacking, what little of it remained. Before you departed, you arranged to start working for Leonard on Monday at 9:00 a.m. "I'll bring the coffee," you promised. He let you know how he takes it, to which you responded with a nod and an assuring smile. As Uhura drove away, you stuck your hand out the open window and waved goodbye to your new friends.

***

That first Monday marked your debut with the Homestead Health Clinic, as it came to be known. As the weeks turned into months, you and Leonard settled into a good working routine. You handled the front office duties, while Dr. McCoy took care of the patients. Jim worked on the house, making frequent trips to see Mr. Scott at his shop, called "The Tool Box".

With your three-month probationary period completed, you were made a full-fledged member of the staff. A formality, really, because you ran the front office not only with efficiency, but with charm and grace. You always had coloring book pages available to entertain the children or the occasional parent who needed a break from a hectic day. Your candy dish held a variety of sweets; however, the one rule was that any kid had to get permission before taking a piece.

Most of your time with Leonard was spent in a professional setting, leaving you to wonder what he was like outside of work. What his favorite drink was, what kind of music he liked, was he always this tightly wound or did he relax at any point. Jim would have the answers to these questions, but there was no way you wanted to ask him because he'd want to know why. You weren't exactly prepared to answer him at this point, so you kept your questions to yourself for now.

>>>

"There you are, Mrs. Henderson, all set," you assured her. "Here's your after-care summary, and your prescriptions will be waiting for you at the pharmacy. Do you have any questions, or is there anything else you need?" you asked.

"No, dear, thank you. Dr. McCoy explained everything perfectly for me," she replied. "Now all I have to do is pick up my meds and figure out what to have for dinner besides chicken nuggets," she noted with a weary sigh. "I'm afraid that one more night of that and my kids will be chicken nuggets."

You chuckled lightly at her response, then offered some ideas for her to consider in place of the breaded chicken. Most of them were favorites from your childhood, such as macaroni and cheese, with diced ham or hot dogs in it. "That way, they'll get something other than bite-sized chicken pieces," you suggested.

"That's a great idea, thank you so much, my dear," she gushed. "It's so wonderful to have a doctor in the area again, and I'm glad that he has you to keep things running smoothly."

"Thank you very much. You're kind to say that, though I'm sure Dr. McCoy would do all right around here without me. He's very good at what he does, and I can tell he truly cares about the health and well-being of his patients," you remarked.

Little did you know, but the man to whom you were referring had just walked around the corner and heard you say his name aloud. His curiosity piqued, he wondered what other comments you might make about him. A soft smile crossed his face at your remark assuring Mrs. Henderson that he could get along just fine without you. Maybe, but it wouldn't be as fun or enjoyable around the office, and he would miss seeing your beautiful face. Wait--what? he thought as he turned his attention back to your conversation.

"You know, I have a cousin who's about your age, I should introduce you. He's around 6'3" tall, with an athletic build, wavy brown hair, green eyes. Very swoonworthy, my dear," she mentioned.

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. "Ha ha, well, Mrs. Henderson, I'm sure he's a lovely fellow. It's just that I kind of have my eye on someone at the moment, only he doesn't know that. However, if I change my mind, I promise you'll be the first person I call," you assured her.

With a conspiratorial wink and a goodbye wave, Mrs. Henderson sauntered out the door of the clinic. You breathed a sigh of relief and dropped your head into your hands, elbows resting on your desk.

Leonard observed from where he was leaning against the wall in the hallway. You were interested in someone? Whoever he is, he was lucky to have your attention, even if he was too blind to notice. He started to ponder what kind of chance he may have with you, then shook his head to clear the notion. After Jocelyn, he was reluctant to get involved with another woman so soon. But these past few months of being around you have had him reconsidering his stance and possibly testing the waters.

***

"Did you get Mrs. Henderson squared away?" Dr. McCoy's voice startled from behind, your head jerking up out of your hands.

You cleared your throat to try and regain your composure. "Um, yes, all taken care of, Dr. McCoy. I let her know that her prescriptions had been called in with Mr. Spock and I reckon they should be ready by the time she gets back to town. I also gave her a couple of suggestions for her dinner that involve something other than chicken nuggets," you grinned.

"Something wholesome, I hope," he replied and laughed when you responded with a shrug. "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment, your patient roster is clear for the day, Dr. McCoy. I have some data entry left to do, a bit of paperwork to file, then I'm done," you explained. "Unless there's something else you need me to do before I head out for the weekend?"

Leonard shook his head and watched as you organized your paperwork and prepared to begin the data entry. "Tell you what--how about you leave the paperwork and stuff for Monday? That way, we can have a bite to eat at the Java Station Café. Jim's busy tonight, and I don't really feel like cooking for just me, especially on a Friday. Would you care to join me?" he asked. "Unless you already have plans," he added hastily.

You looked up from your keyboard, mouth slightly open in surprise. A dinner invitation was the last thing you expected at the end of a busy week. Wait, if Jim's not joining us, does that make this....a date?? you pondered. Nah, he didn't mean it like that. Just two friends, catching a bite to eat, don't make a big deal about it, you admonished yourself. "No, no plans to speak of. Sounds great, we can leave right now, if you're ready."

He smiled and shuffled back to his office to drop off the papers in his hand, grab his jacket, and lock up for the night. When he returned, you had put your unfinished work in the file cabinet under lock and key. "Shall we?" He gestured towards the door with a tilt of his head.

Switching off your desk lamp, you stepped out from behind your desk and headed for the exit. As you passed him, you flashed Leonard a warm smile, which he returned. On the way out to your car, you could swear you felt the barest touch of his hand on your lower back. It was a comforting feeling, although you figured that it was likely automatic for him and his Southern gentlemanly ways. "Let's go," you smiled.

***

Dinner with Leonard was an interesting experience. The two of you took turns asking each other questions, mostly superficial in nature at first. As the night wore on, the subject matter got a little deeper, with Leonard mentioning his divorce from Jocelyn as his reason for moving from Georgia. In return, you shared details of your past with Travis and explained that leaving him in Bozeman brought you to the town of Logan.

"So that's why you left the big city to come here," he chuckled. "What was the final straw, if you don't mind me asking?"

You walked him through the events of the night you caught Travis cheating on you with his assistant, Brenda. How your friends helped you pack up and leave town so you could settle in Logan, where you used to live with your parents. "They're both gone now," you added softly, staring down at your hands resting on the table. "Thank goodness they didn't have to witness any of the drama with Travis."

Leonard reached over and covered your two smaller hands with his large one. "I'm sure if they could see you now, they'd be proud of the strong woman they raised," he affirmed.

A flash of heat bloomed on your cheeks at his compliment. "Thank you, I hope so," you gave him a watery chuckle then cleared your throat. "So, what's the story with your wooded estate? Has it been in your family for long?" you wondered.

He admired your curiosity and sat back in his chair as he wove the tale of his encounter with the attorney while he was still living in Georgia. "I didn't even know I had an Uncle Walter McCoy until the meeting with this attorney. I mean, I'm newly divorced, and the next thing I know, I'm walking out of a law office with the deed to an estate out West, in Montana."

"You should do some research on it, Leonard, find out its history. It's possible that it could be connected to someone famous. Ooh! Maybe Jesse James and his gang of outlaws used your house as a hideout once. Or, what if Wyatt Earp tracked some fugitive from the law to where he was hiding in your barn, and there was a big shootout," your eyes widened with each new possibility.

He couldn't help but shake his head in amusement at your wild theories of what events may have taken place on his land. He noticed how your eyes took on a sparkle as your excitement grew in your speculation about the history of his family's property. With his marriage to Jocelyn ending in divorce, his thoughts drifted to how different his life would've been if he'd met you first.

"Whoa, slow down there, darlin'," he chuckled, returning his focus to the conversation. "I'm sure there's nothin' quite that interesting going on, but I'll admit I'm curious."

"I think you should have an expert come out and survey the land. You never know, there could be gold in them thar hills," you jested.

"Might not be a bad idea. Before I ever came out here, some big shot company from out East offered me a good chunk of money to buy the place, lock, stock, and barrel," he mentioned. "I got the notion they weren't too happy that I turned them down."

"All the more reason to have the land surveyed, so you know what you've got and what it's worth. Although, with it being family land and all, I'd say it's more or less priceless," you remarked. "Out of curiosity, who wanted to buy this from you?"

"I believe it was NorthStar Corp," Leonard replied. "The paperwork came from the head guy's office, a man by the name of Miles Cooper."

You slowly digested this blurb of information, which had a ring of familiarity to it. While you were still with him, you remembered Travis mentioning NorthStar Corp. They were one of his biggest clients, and as such, he more or less reported directly to Miles Cooper. It has to be a coincidence, you thought.

"Hey." You felt the weight of Leonard's warm hands on yours, bringing you back to reality. "You okay there? Seems like you zoned out there for a minute," Leonard asked, a bit of concern in his voice.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I'm fine Len," you assured him, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. "It's just...." and you proceeded to tell him what you remembered about NorthStar from when you were with Travis.

"You really think there's something on my land that they want and would stop at nothing to acquire?" he wondered.

"It doesn't hurt to have a surveyor look at it. NorthStar is ruthless, Leonard," you insisted. "The last person that wouldn't sell to them? They put pressure on his brother's business, nearly shut him down to where it was nearly impossible for him to operate. Then, they contacted his son's university and had his admission blocked. Once the sales paperwork went through, NorthStar Corp's pressure tactics went away."

"I've talked to this 'Travis' guy on the phone a few times, and Jim had to run him off once. So, he works for them?"

You nodded. "He was their leading performer when we were together. Even back then, he was known to get as close to the edge of the law as possible without going over it to seal the deal. Can't imagine what he's like now," you mused.

The two of you lingered over coffee until you noticed the staff cleaning up around you. As you walked out, you and Leonard apologized to Mr. Chekov for nearly overstaying your welcome. He met you at the door and waved away your concerns with a smile. He presented you with a "manager's discount" card and invited you to use it on your next visit.

Leonard accompanied you out to your car, his hand occasionally brushing over the small of your back as you walked. Your conversation continued until you reached your parking space and dug into your pockets for the keys to your 1968 Chevy Nova. Before you prepared to slide the key into the door lock, you looked back and smiled at Leonard.

"Well, this is me," you remarked shyly. "I had a wonderful time with you tonight." After unlocking the door you opened it and turned to face him, not yet wanting to get into the driver's seat.

"Been meaning to ask you about this fine piece of machinery. Lotta horses under this hood, where'd you happen to get something like this?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"This car used to belong to my dad, left it to me when he passed. He found it in a junkyard, saw its potential, and we worked on it together. This car holds a lot of memories for me," you murmured. "Anyway, I'll see you bright and early on Monday morning, yeah?"

"You bet, Monday morning," Leonard agreed. He watched you climb in behind the wheel before walking towards his own vehicle.

"Hey, Leonard?" you called. He whirled around to see that you had left the driver's seat and were hanging on the door. "Maybe one of these days I'll take you for a spin in this 'fine piece of machinery'. See what these horses can do while I show you around. What do you say?" you asked as you cocked your head to one side.

A genuine smile crept across his handsome features, revealing perfect pearly white teeth. "I'd say that sounds great, just let me know when and I'll be there," he winked.

Fortunately your car door kept your knees from buckling and dropping you to the ground. That wink of his was enough to make you hit the deck. Which you certainly would have, were you not still hanging onto your door. "I will. See you around, Leonard," you replied.

He nodded and flashed you another toothy grin, then resumed his walk towards his car, while you slid behind the wheel of your car. As he drove past you, he gave a lazy salute before heading off into the night. You waited until he was well out of sight before picking up your phone and dialing your best friend's phone number. "Nyota? Oh, thank goodness you're home! Have I got some news for you," you indicated as you turned the key in the ignition.

***

"Mr. Myers? There's a call for you on Line One, from a Miles Cooper? He says it's urgent," stated Bradley Wilder, his new assistant.

Travis closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves. A call from the head office and the CEO of NorthStar Corp was not how he wanted to start his weekend. Especially since there had not been much progress on the McCoy property acquisition. On one of his trips out to the farm, he brought the new offer with him, one that was significantly larger than the last one.

Dr. McCoy read through the contract and his eyes had initially widened at the considerable increase in the payout. Nevertheless, despite the substantial amount of money offered, he told Travis that he was staying on as the town physician. Travis tried to work his charm to convince Leonard to agree to sell, except this time, Jim stepped in and "escorted" him back to his car. Since that meeting, all attempts at communication with Dr. McCoy had been largely unsuccessful, or, more accurately, completely ignored.

"Patch him through, Mr. Wilder. Thank you," Travis agreed as he steeled himself for the scathing verbal attack. He rolled his eyes at the sound of Mr. Cooper's voice in his ear, demanding a status report on the McCoy situation. Travis didn't get a chance to answer, though, as Cooper blustered on about the importance of securing the property and how money was no object.

"Bottom line, Myers, you need to close this deal. I don't care what you have to do to get it done, but it's time for the gloves to come off. If you can't make it happen, NorthStar Corp will have no other choice but to take its business elsewhere. I've had my eye on this property for quite a while, and no 'down-home, country doctor' is going to stand in my way," he growled.

"Yes sir, I understand. Consider the gloves taken off," Travis replied.

"Good. I'd hate for news of this botched deal to get back to the board members of your firm. Might make them reconsider whether or not to continue your employment," Cooper pointed out. He paused to let Travis mull over that threat before he continued. "I understand you have a wedding coming up in a few months, congratulations. Sure would make it difficult to support a new wife in your current lavish lifestyle if you were to be suddenly unemployed," he threatened. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Travis responded.

"Excellent. Wouldn't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I look forward to your next status report, due in two weeks," Cooper commanded before hanging up.

Travis pulled the phone away from his ear to confirm that the connection had been closed. "Yes, sir," he muttered before making a phone call. This one was to his fiancée, Brenda, during which he profusely apologized for missing Date Night. He explained that he was being sent out of town on business and wasn't sure how long he would be gone. She was initially upset, but when he told her to use his card and car service for a night on the town with her friends, she forgave him.

While he relaxed on the company jet during the short flight to Logan, he was thankful Brenda didn't press him for too many details. Mr. Cooper wanted him to pull out all the stops and let nothing stand in the way of his acquiring the McCoy property. This could get messy, he thought, but what the client wants, the client gets, he concluded as he drove his rental car to his hotel.

***

You were nearing the end of a long and busy day that left you feeling as if the whole town had paraded in and out of the clinic. There was quite a bit of filing to be done, due to the sheer number of patients Dr. McCoy had seen throughout the day. He has to be just as exhausted as I am, probably more, you mused. Maybe I should invite him for dinner at my place tonight, then he won't have to cook. I could even send home some of the leftovers to share with Jim. Or not, you giggled to yourself.

The bell above the door to the clinic chimed, indicating a visitor had arrived. Your back was to the door as you stood at the cabinet behind you, organizing patient files. "I'll be right with you, please have a seat," you called.

"Oh, I'm not here as a patient," the voice replied.

Your hand paused in mid-air above the file cabinet drawer. The voice was one you never expected to or wanted to hear again in your lifetime. Slowly you closed the drawer and turned to face your visitor. You were hoping against hope that you were wrong and that it wasn't who you thought it was. "And just what in the hell are you doing here?"

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Tags: @marvelouslytrekking  @spacedancer1701  @anna-phora  @hailbop1701  @writercole  @lassie-bird  @never--doubt  @phoenixisred  @wayward-dreamer  @erindiggory  @strangesgirls  @dumpsterhippie  @genevablog26  @lokis-deares  @medicatemedrmccoy  @rooweighton  @mamamercurymist  @d-doki-doki  @malmeansbad  @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @ghosttrekkie @noforkingclue @bellestalesoffiction @silversword7000 @maximumtacoshark @xspacedemonx @ilachoasgrem

[krak-jj]

Feb 7 2024.

Bo.

bokuto k. x gender neutral reader

!lowercase intended for this story!

summary: just little snippets of bokuto being a boyfriend to husband!

warnings!

slight cussing!

someone trying to be little bokuto

and definitely some fluff and angst!

hope you enjoy!-JJ

Unedited!

situation 1.

bokuto was trying, super hard not to burst out in a fit of laughter as your face turned different shades of red.

it's just that you are so adorable when defending him from people who didn't like him. calling him "childish" or "annoying" and things as such. he knew that if pissed you off. but it never bothered him to much.

and no matter how many times he tells you that it doesn't bother him, you will always turn red while defending his name.

which is why he thinks it's so cute!

you. his one and only significant other. walking up to the person talking shit and going. "could you repeat that for me?" and when they do, you can't help but feel you face turn hot.

but right now, he should stop you from trying to beat this kid up.

situation 2

you hate when the two of you argue. absolutely hate it. but he just does things that cross your boundaries sometimes, and no matter how many times you talk to him about it, it's the same thing every time.

"koutarou! how many times do I have to tell you, you are not the only one in this house! refill the danm toilet paper!" You yelled as your hand rested on the bare toilet paper holder.

"koutarou!" you yelled again. this time, he poked into the bathroom with a roll in his hand. and a pout adorned his face. "don't give me that face. we talk about this all the time. it's annoying."

"I know! but I forget all the time!" he looked upset. and you sighed. "just try and remember next time." your voice hit his ears as he saw you unravel the roll. "now get out so I can wipe my ass!"

situation 3

tik tok.

tik tok.

tik tok .

the room was silent. "y/n, please. talk to me." koutarou begged.

but you wouldn't look at him, let alone speak to him. "babe, please. " he looked at you with pouty eyes.

"fuck you.", "comon don't say that." his voice cracked.

more silence went by.

.

.

.

.

.

"this is the third time in a row, bokuto." You didn't look at him.

"is volleyball really that important, to the point you can't make it to date night!?" you finally looked at him while standing abruptly.

"yes, it is!" he stood as well, now towering over you. "it's my job, y/n!" "but i'm your spouse! I wear the ring!"

silence.

"koutarou. we haven't spent time together in a while. all I want is to be with you. that's all I want..." you sighed.

a couple seconds pass.

"I'm going to bed. you can join me if you want." you turned , heading for your room. but before you took a step. you were met with silence. "or sleep on the fucking couch. " you scoffed before leaving the living room.

he was behind you. looking at his feet, his thumb playing with the ring on his ring finger. a sigh left his lips. "fuck. "

__

masterlist

[sterekchub]

Super fat stiles who is starving (he’s not he just ate enough to feed a family) being horny and Derek’s not there to help and he can barely move but he wants more food. Trying and failing to sit up several times with his massive bulk and ends up rolling over on his tummy instead so he’s completely beached. Absolutely rock hard at the fact that he cannot get up and so fucks his belly as best he’s able to get off. Moaning and sweating and calling himself a fat pig. Derek finds him like that coming into his fat rolls and talking about how Derek’s just gonna keep on making him fatter …. Feel free to add more I can’t stop thinking about this

I will always have more to add to barely mobile Stiles :D Derek isn't even gone for more than an hour. Goes out for a quick grocery run- because Stiles' appetite never fails to throw him off guard. And he's told Stiles so many times to NOT try and move when he's stuffed to the point of immobility. It never ends well. More than once Stiles has gotten tired out, sat down on an end table or leaned on something that was not meant to support a baby elephant, and has gone crashing to the ground. Or Stiles has grabbed at things to help hold him up and....goodbye shower curtain. Goodbye toilet paper holder and half the wall. The bookshelf was almost a victim if Derek had been a few seconds slower. So he really isn't too surprised to see Stiles almost into the hallway, having clearly rolled a sparse few feet from the couch, ass in the air and legs flailing. Stiles is about 80% belly, so not really a shock that he can't managed to put his feet on the ground with the blubbery mass of fat under him. It is surprising that Stiles looks like he was out for a run before taking a quick lay down on the floor. "Hey...pant Derek." Takes him a few seconds, but he knows Stiles 'exhausted, walked too much heavy breathing' and also knows these sounds are NOT it. "Are you fucking jerking off?" "Yes," Stiles wheezes. "What else was I gonna do?" "I was gone for like thirty minutes!" "I was hungry. " Derek drops the arm full of grocery bags where he's standing. "When aren't you?" "If you had fed me more, I would have been too full to get off the couch!" "I'm going to make sure you're too fat too get out of bed," Derek threatens. "Then this won't be an issue." "Promises," Stiles grunts. "I wish I was that big." Derek can't help but laugh. Instead of helping Stiles up, he gets down on the ground near him and pushes Stiles hard enough he wobbles to his side before ending back on his stomach. "You are that big. Or maybe too many shakes and burgers have you just so out of shape you couldn't get off the couch without rolling like a beached whale." Stiles moans, feebly starts trying to thrust his flab-buried cock against his belly and fatpad. He grabs whatever fat rolls he can and squeezes, like he can somehow get a better grip and more friction that way. "Fuck. 'm such a pig. Need you to feed me." "Yeah? Not sure, you're getting kinda obese, Stiles." "Can't wait until I'm too wheeze fat to get out of pant bed. Need you to make me huff immobile." Doesn't take Stiles very long at all before he comes, letting out a long groan Derek teases him sounds more piglike by the day. And Derek debates helping him up...but decides he's got better uses for Stiles like that.

[mommys-gurl]

New Debutante

"Hey Stevie… look at this!" my sister said, leaning over and showing me an advert in the magazine she was reading. "Imagine wearing that!" she grinned.

"It looks like the toilet roll holder on Granny's cistern." I said. "One thousand two hundred and fifty quid?!" I exclaimed. "How do you even walk in a dress like that?"

"I don't think you're supposed to walk in it." she replied. "When all you need to do is be beautiful." she said, reading the tag-line below the Boybie logo.

"What's the point of it then?" I quizzed.

"It's a debutante dress. You just stand there." she told me.

"They're for when you're being presented to prospective wives." Mum told us. "Not that we'd ever be able to afford a debutante dress for you Stevie. It's an upper class thing."

"Thank the lord for that!" I gasped. "How do you go to the loo in it?"

"I think the idea is you don't." Mum said as she looked over our shoulders. "There must be a hundred layers in the petticoat he's wearing beneath it." she claimed. "It is very beautiful though." she said.

"But totally impractical." I replied.

"…and eye wateringly expensive." my sister added. "I'd want the jewellery included at that price."

"The people who can afford to put their sons forward as a debutante probably spend that on breakfast every morning." Mum claimed.

"How do you even sit down in something like that?" I wondered.

"You don't." Mum replied. "You just stand there; silent and demur… sometimes for hours on end when the parents are discussing dowries and such like."

"What are dowries?" I asked.

"A dowry is a sum of money given to the bride when a son is married off." she explained.

"Why?" I quizzed.

"Because rich boys grow up in a houseful of charboys doing all the household chores. They're no use as a househusband and nothing more than a trophy…. so aside from being beautiful, they come with a massive wad of cash… otherwise no-one would take them into matrimony."

"So if we were super rich…" my sister said. "…Mum'd have to pay someone to marry you."

"Fortunately you're a good charboy Stevie… which means you'll be a good househusband… so when we do marry you off, it won't cost me too much." Mum added.

[sadhours]

“I look for love in all the wrong places”

prequel to wicked sensations

a/n: this is my present to you all for 300 followers!!!! Thank you so much for enjoying my series. i hope i dont make y'all too sad with this one

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, messy Billy, sad billy, abuse mention, addiction, underage drinking, drug use, cocaine, marijuana, brief smut, Neil, homophobic slurs, sexism, angst lots of angst. This was sad to write.

masterlist (i accept requests)

taglist: @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani @sierrahhh @likeanimagepassingby2

Fingernails stained yellow from nicotine, Billy brings yet another Marlboro Red to his lips while Jennifer pours him another another shot of Jameson. He’s been here every single night for the past three months, the days bleed together but he’s under the impression he’s having a good time. Every evening folds out the same way and Billy likes a rigid routine. The liquor goes down without so much as a wince, the fiery sensation spreading down his throat and over his entire body. A comforting, numb warmth that’s become his most favorite feeling. In fact, Billy couldn’t go a day without it now. There’s a necessity to it, some might call it an addiction, but Billy thought it made the beatings guaranteed to him more bearable, therefore it’s a form of protection. Getting sucker punched by his dad didn’t hurt as much when he couldn’t feel anything.

The next bit of routine was also made certain by a woman double his age cornering him every night. Not usually the same woman, but always one old enough to be his mother. They’d all kind of bled together, dyed hair, heavy makeup and the same pickup lines. Are you old enough to be in here? or What’s a young handsome man like you doing alone in a place like this? And Billy would accept their advances every time, looking for attention anyway he could get it. Sometimes he wished he didn’t like compliments. The way these broads looked at him and talked to him made Billy feel powerful.

Tonight was no different, a woman he pegs to be roughly 40 situating herself between him and the jukebox as he’s flipping through songs.

Turning on the charm, Billy smirks, “Well, hi. Just what I was looking for.”

It’s a lie, he likes getting off and these women provide an escape but he always feels disgusting afterwards, so he drinks more to bring the numbness back. Regardless, he continues repeating the cycle.

“Does your mother know you’re here?” the woman teases and luckily Billy’s buzzed enough for it not to sting and spiral him into another episode. She never knows where she is. And he wonders where she is all the time.

“I’m a big boy,” he retorts, leaning closer to the woman.

She gives him what he thinks was supposed to be seductive laugh but it’s a little too deep and it brings him out of the moment, panic rising through his throat while he realizes this bar is dark and he can’t really be sure if he’s attracted to her.

Then she lifts up a tiny baggie filled halfway with an off white substance he’s beginning to indulge in most nights, “Want some?”

Billy knows he shouldn’t, he knows he’ll wake up tomorrow with the emptiest feeling in his chest that’ll drive him to chase after good feelings but no matter what, he won’t be able to get his serotonin back up for days. Nevertheless, he nods and follows the woman to the dingy, sticky men’s bathroom. She locks the door behind her and dumps a bit of the baggie out onto the toilet paper holder. Billy begins to think about what other disgusting substances have been on it as she cuts them each a line and pulls out a rolled dollar bill. He goes first, needing the courage from the drug to follow through with what this woman really wants. He snorts the cocaine, standing and hands her the dollar bill while he rubs his nostril with the back of his hand. He tastes the drip immediately as the warm numbness begins to wash over his mouth and descend down the rest of him. Then the excitement comes, his heart pounding out of his chest while he’s filled with a newfound confidence that was languidly slipping away minutes before. He watches as she snorts her line and when she’s finished, he hitches her foot up onto the toilet and undoes his pants. He fucks her quick and hard, glancing away when she turns her head to look at him. He doesn’t give a shit if it hurts her feelings. Billy pulls out and cums on her thighs.

He tucks himself in his jeans and tells her, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

However that’s not their only interaction of the night, like a fiend, Billy keeps returning to snort all the blow she has and let’s her buy him drinks all night. She gives him a crumpled napkin with her number on it and he purposefully misses his pocket, dropping it on the dirty bar floor.

As per his routine, he doesn’t stumble out of the bar until it’s closed and he drunkenly attempts to help Jennifer close it up. He drops a barstool on the bar only for it to come tumbling back down on his face, pushing him to the floor with it.

“Alright, Billy…” Jennifer sighs, “I think I can manage it myself. Get home safe, kid.”

He does, though he won’t remember the drive in the morning. His body crashes through his window, face planting on the hardwood floor and from where he lies, he can see a light flicking on from the crack under the door.

“Shit,” he mumbles, grappling to his knees and pressing his palms into his thighs.

He’s pleasantly surprised when a small redhead opens his bedroom door with wide eyes. His intoxicated smile falters when he hears Susan’s voice calling out for her.

“Sorry!” Max calls out, “Bumped into something. It was dark.”

“Go to bed!” his Dad yells and Max turns off the hall light after glaring at her drunken step brother. She closes his door and retreats back to her room.

She was a little shit but she was a really good sister, covering for Billy whenever she could. He stands to his feet and turns on his lamp, looking in the mirror to see his lip and nose are bloodied from either the barstool or the face plant, he’s not sure. He sighs, wiping his face with his sleeve before collapsing in his bed, succumbing to a hard sleep.

He’s not sure how long he’s been out when he wakes up, having no idea what time he even got home. But his heads killing him and the post cocaine blues hits hard, flashes of the older woman piercing his brain. He groans, reaching under his bed for a warm can of beer and sits up. He cracks the beer open and gulps it down, reaching for his pack of Marlboros to discover he smoked every single one last night. He winces as he stands up from bed, dropping the empty beer can to the collection strewn across his floor. He peeks out the window to see his Camaro parked halfway on the lawn and he cringes.

Billy strides to the bathroom, keeping the light off as he reaches for the rinsing cup and fills it with tap water. He drinks it and fills it again, repeating the process until his stomach churns and empties into the toilet. Over and over. Billy’s not a quiet puker either. He knows whoever is home can hear it but it’s common, they’ve got to be used to it. After collecting himself, he stares at his reflection in the dirty mirror and dim lighting seeping in from the tiny vent window. His lip is swollen, he’s got dried blood under his nose and massive bags under his eyes.

“God,” he groans before splashing water into his face. He braces himself as he exits, glancing up and down the hall before strolling back to his room. Before he can get there, he hears Susan’s hushed voice and he freezes.

“He’s a problem, Neil. Stumbling in at ungodly hours and he always reeks of alcohol,” she whispers.

“I know,” Neil responds, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

Billy shuts his bedroom door quietly, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. He digs through the pile of dirty clothes on the floor for a pair of jeans, pulling them over his legs and hopping into the rest them. He grabs a white muscle shirt, bringing it to his nose and wincing at the stench. He keeps digging through the pile until he settles on a black muscle tank instead. Then his phone rings, the shrill pitch of it sending a shockwave of sharp pain through his head.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, lifting it off the hook to be greeted by his girlfriend. Oh, shit, he’d forgotten he had one.

“Veronica, calm down,” he groans, slipping his Converse on. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I was busy.”

“Busy?!” she yells, “We had a fucking date, William.”

“Ugh, don’t fucking call me that,” he looks in the mirror, fixing his hair with what little energy he has. “Listen, I’ll be at your house in twenty. Bring weed.”

“You’re gonna make this up to me, Billy. I’m so sick of you leaving me high and dry.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he quips sarcastically before hanging up, hopping out his window and stealthily strutting to his car. He speeds off down the street before Neil and Susan can run outside to stop him. He takes a detour, stopping at a gas station to fill up his car and retrieve the ever needed pack of Marlboro Reds. “Ya know what, give me a shooter of Jack,” he adds, handing a wad of cash to the clerk who despite his disheveled appearance gives him fluttery eyelashes and blushed cheeks.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he winks to the girl as he shoves his change in his pocket. When he’s back in his car, he downs the shot and lights a cigarette before filling up his tank.

-

“You said twenty minutes,” Veronica scolds as she gets in the front seat, her blonde hair pristinely styled in big curls.

Billy snorts, “Hey, I showed up.”

“Yeah and you fucking reek of booze,” she complains. Billy shrugs, speeding off down the street. He whips through the neighborhoods, ignoring Veronica’s incessant yelling to slow down. He wonders why she even likes him, all she ever does is complain. He arrives to their usual spot, a parking lot a ways out that faces the ocean, no shore beneath it.

“Where were you last night?” she demands, sounding like a parent. She’s always like this. Well, she wasn’t at first. She liked Billy’s danger at the beginning, she used to call him wild child. She used to laugh hard at all his jokes and sing at the top of her lungs with him to his cassettes. She used to look at him with stars in her eyes. She used to love him.

“I was hanging out with Jennifer,” he deflects, not mentioning the coke or the middle aged woman he’d fucked without a second thought.

“You know she thinks you’re a loser, right?” Veronica reveals and Billy doesn’t doubt it. He knows he’s been going a little overboard since Susan and Max moved in. He know his dad grew to truly despise his mom over the years but he never dated another woman until he met Susan. Billy didn’t want to subject his mom to more abuse but he selfishly wished she’d come back, that they’d get back together.

“You are a loser, Billy,” Veronica seethes, “You’re turning into a total fucking burn out. We don’t even surf anymore.”

Billy takes the verbal censure. He always does, he’s heard the words so much they don’t even sting anymore. He no longer cares that he’s a huge wasting, disappointment to everyone around him.

“Did you bring the weed?” he asks, unbothered by the dumbfounded look on his girlfriends face.

She heaves a sigh and digs through her purse, imparting the bag of weed to Billy. He takes it, opening up his glovebox to grab his rolling papers. He grinds the weed between his fingers, hovering above the open paper, using his pinky to disperse the broken up buds. He rolls it expertly, eying his blonde counterpart as he licks up the side of the paper before sealing it up.

“Voila,” he sings, proudly holding up the joint to admire his handiwork. He brings it to his lips, flicking his zippo up to light it. He takes a deep hit, choking lightly as it stings his throat before offering it to Veronica. “I didn’t put any tobacco in it, just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so kind,” she sneers, her expression frozen in indignation. God, she’s such a bitch, Billy thinks.

He won’t let her ruin his high, he needs this. He’s gotta charge up before he can head back over to the bar.

“Do you even have a job anymore?” she wonders, venom lacing the question.

Billy snatches the joint from her lips before she can take a second hit, “I do. I work tomorrow.”

He dreads to think about doing any strenuous labor with a hangover. Maybe he’ll claim window washing and tire pressure duty when he arrives. His boss is getting suspicious of him, though. The other day, he made a snide comment about Billy having a long night when he locked himself in the bathroom to spew for thirty minutes.

“Good. Our anniversary is coming up,” she reminds Billy, “I expect jewelry.”

He bogarts the joint, not passing it when he’s supposed to. He sucks more than half of it down before she notices.

“Hey! Give it here, it’s mine anyhow.”

Billy obliges, turning the stereo out and shoving a Metallica cassette into it and turning the dial to tune out any more of her whining.

Luckily, the joint seems to get to Veronica and she’s quiet for a while. Billy gets to admire the waves, the vastness of the ocean as the blue of it fades into the sky. It always calms him, helps him forget about Neil, Susan and Veronica. He can stare at it and even forget he exists.

Alright, he’s pretty stoned.

All part of his rigid routine, Veronica moves to the backseat and pulls him with her. He lays her down and hovers above her, his head fuzzy while they awkwardly situate themselves. It’s rushed, quick and to the point. Like it always is. She’s a means to an end and he is to her.

When they’re done, she tells him he needs to get a grip before Senior year starts in two weeks. He ignores it, Billy thinks he’s doing just fine. He wouldn’t have his life any other way.

-

He takes it easy that night. Which means he still stumbles through his window drunkenly but he’s not blackout drunk. He remembers the panic of the drive home, constantly checking his rearview mirror but blue and red lights. He showers after his morning hurl. Standing under the hot water a moment too long, making him late for his shift.

He grabs his work shirt from his backseat and begrudgingly makes his way into the garage, clocking in under the judgmental eyes of his boss.

“I know,” he mutters before he can be ridiculed, “I slept through my alarm. Won’t happen again.”

Unfortunately, Drew beats him to calling window washing and tire pressure checks. Billy’s stuck downstairs draining oil. It’s so hot down there, he yaks a few more times during the day. On his drive home, he’s particularly introspective. Finding he’s actually disappointed in himself for the heavy drinking and late nights.

When he walks into the door, he’s met with his dad, Susan, Max and his grandparents sitting around the table. An intervention? Seriously?

Billy groans, barreling through them to his room. Neil’s quick to follow, pounding on the door when it’s slammed in his face.

“William Ocean Hargrove, get your ass out here now!” Neil bellows behind the think particle board. Billy revels in his mom giving him that middle name, forcing his dad to say it whenever he was pissed and no doubt bringing Billy’s wild-spirited mother to his mind.

Billy opens the door. “I’m covered in oil. Let me change,” he spits at his dad before slamming the door again.

“Neil,” Susan says pointedly.

He hears his dads footsteps walking away and he glances to his window, debating if he should run away again. He’s embarrassed with his grandparents sitting there and he’s sure Neil won’t hit him in front of them. Not until they leave.

He changes into a clean pair of clothes before making his entrance out, standing in front of five pairs of concerned eyes. He heaves a sigh and motions to them, “Go ahead. Tell me how my life’s going down the shitter and I’m a huge fucking disappointment to all of you.”

He thinks it’s unfair Max and Susan are here. They’ve known Billy all of six months. They don’t fucking know him yet they’re trying to be family. Well, as far as Billy was concerned he had no fucking family. This house, these people, they had no warmth. They didn’t truly give a shit about him, they just wanted to control him, didn’t want people to look at them differently because he was an embarrassment.

“Billy…” Susan starts and he laughs.

“Listen, I barely fucking know you. You can’t waltz into my life and expect to be my fucking mother. You aren’t and you’ll never be,” he spits.

“Maybe I should start…” his grandmother says and it breaks his heart. She was the tiniest bit of solace in his life. She was the escape when things had gotten too bad. When Neil couldn’t even fathom looking at Billy, he would ship him off to his parents. He spent every summer there until he was fourteen. Then Neil wanted him working.

Billy sits down at his grandmothers request, his breathing labored as he’s stricken with guilt.

“Honey… we’re all so worried about you. Your dad tells me you’re never home, you’re drinking all night and,” she can’t finish, choking out a sob as she looks to her disheveled grandson.

Billy feels tears threatening his eyes but he’s quickly reminded about all the times Neil bullied him for crying. Calling him a faggot, a fairy, a pansy, every name in the book. He told him men don’t cry. Last I checked you didn’t have a vagina, he’d said. Billy steadies his breathing. He won’t cry, he can’t cry.

“Your behavior is unacceptable, son,” Neil chimes in and Billy keeps his face stoic, doesn’t want anyone to know how deeply he’s hurting inside.

“You’re a bad influence on Max,” Susan says quietly and Billy feels his blood boil. He never agreed to being any kind of influence on her. He never agreed to having them forced into his life.

Billy doesn’t speak, he stares at four consecutive holes in the table and remembers how they got there, his dad stabbing his fork into the table during a heated argument at dinner when Susan and Max had first moved in. He wonders if they’ve even considered why Billy is acting out. He assumes not, his feelings never a concern of theirs.

“This has to change,” Susan pleads.

Neil puffs his chest out, “William.”

Billy knows what his dad is getting at, looking up at him and holding his domineering stare.

“We’ve got a solution. We’re moving,” Neil informs him, “I’ve already got a job lined up.”

“What?” Billy asks, hurt present on his voice and then panic, “Where?”

“Indiana,” Susan states.

Indiana? No ocean. No waves. No calmness. No one he knows. He’ll be even more alone. Billy’s stomach churns, the emptiness of it of no concern to the bile rising in his throat. He abruptly moves up from the table, stomping to the bathroom where he collapses in front of toilet, and he heaves. The fluorescent yellow fluid forcing its way up his throat, burning his eyes and tearing up his airways.

He rests his cheek against the seat, unmoving as he realizes his life is over. Neil can control him better so far away. He’ll be so isolated from everything he knows and loves so well.

-

Billy stares at his Camaro packed to the brim with his belongings. It’s so wrong. The October breeze chills him as his eyes fall on the scratch along the side of the midnight blue finish. Veronica keyed his car and he’d attempted his best to buff it out but it was still faintly there. A reminder that he’d lived up to her shitty expectations of him.

Neil pats his shoulder, “We’ll get that fixed in Hawkins.”

He was annoyingly chipper since the intervention, clearly excited at the prospect of a completely isolated Billy.

“Max is riding with you,” he shoots his soon a pointed look. “Can’t have you running off.”

Billy sighs, realizing just how trapped he is.

This is it. He gazes back to the house he’d grown up in, his chest stinging at how unalive it looks. He stands outside of his car and looks around while Max sits in his front seat. His feet are stuck. He can’t possibly move them.

“Billy! Let’s get a move on! We’re on a schedule!” his dad calls from his truck and Susan honks from the U-Haul.

Fucking bitch.

Billy cries quietly as he drives away from home, not caring that Max can see it. He fucking loathed her and her mother for doing this to him. He doesn’t say a single word to her the entire drive. He doesn’t speak to any of them when they sleep in motels where Billy’s given a pillow and small throw blanket to sleep on the floor in each one. He’s disassociated the entire three days it takes to drive there.

He thinks Indiana is ugly and he’s unbelievably distraught when he sees the size of Hawkins. A town like this, everyone knows each other which means higher expectations from Neil. They drive past the school, Max commenting about how that’s where they’ll go, and Billy remains silent. The only bright side is no one will know who he is so he can be anyone he wants. And he’ll be damned if he’s not worshipped in this town by the end of his first week here.

a/n: thank you so much for reading. i really appreciate all the love i'm getting for the series. i hope you enjoyed this lil look into billy's life before the move

[subspaceember]

Things I do not understand about the design of my parents house

Bathroom

The shower head is mounted a foot too low. I'm around 5'10 and my eye level is right where the pipe comes out of the wall. (This is the case for every shower in the house) which means the water starts to hit you around your nipples

The toilet paper holder thing is in between the toilet and the tub and requires an uncomfortable reach, actually hard to use, and so no one does

None of the towel racks are within reach of the tub, there's one on the opposite end of the room and on the opposite side of the toilet

There is a fan - however it just vents into the attic - no actual vent was ever installed - also it's the scariest looking fan ever made, you can put your hand through it. The one downstairs was a complete afterthought, when we moved in there was just a random plug hanging out of the ceiling that went to the fan - which vents into the drop ceiling... of the basement

That's right the bathroom that's in a basement and has no window that can open and also used to have carpet in a house with no HVAC system has NO FUNCTIONAL VENT FAN

There is a window - it's just a regular window that faces the front lawn, so hopefully no one's out there. There's blinds on it, but they're mounted away from the window so you can still absolutely see in if you stand in the right spot

It has an absurd amount of countertop - not really a bad thing, but it's very overkill for a bathroom

The soap tile thing came off the wall and refused to be glued back on - so there's just a big duct tape patch there now

General

The entire downstairs is drop ceiling, yup like an office building.

On top of that the entire downstairs was originally only lit by single bulb fixtures, like for closets, just bare bulbs in a dark, damp basement - except bathrooms which were fluorescent lamps

The basement has a very uncomfortable hallway, it's about 3 feet wider than most hallways and is of course lit by one light bulb

There's a random angled wall here, so one of the rooms has a random angled wall for some reason

The house has TWO water heaters, a more common full size one and a smaller like half sized one. Guess which ones plumbed to the showers - that's right the small one, the big one is only connected to the kitchen sink, washer, and the nasty added on shower in the garage that no one has ever used.

Right - there's technically a third bathroom, it is IN the garage, i mean it's literally added on it's like a box that just juts out into the room. No one has used this bathroom as it is - like i said in the garage and thus smells of dust and mold and also there's no floor.

The floor plan is very odd, there's a BIG room and I mean big on both the first floor and the basement, and lots of tiny rooms, including the one my parents tried to move me too, which is quite frankly too small for a twin bed what you're supposed to do with a room that size I don't know.

There's no water filter of any kind here, not really a big deal, although the water is literally pumped out of the ground so uh sediment is in everything - like, the water filter for drinking has dirt in the top of it

The dust the downstairs of this house has dust like no other dust, the networking stuff is out in the garage where the dust is the worst, and it's killed 2 ethernet switches and a modem, it's this thick brown dust that - even though the house has been cleaned - will never go away

The deck - which is covered in plastic fake grass terf carpet and is nasty - is actually held up by a big iron rod that was clearly added much later than when the house was built, along with a much newer staircase

There's just a big gap in the wall on the side of the carport with a 5 foot drop - no one knows why it's there

Oh yeah also- the carport is on top of the garage - the garage is not accessible for cars, as it's on the basement level, so hearing a car roll ON TOP OF THE ROOM YOU'RE IN is really nerve-wracking

There were no lights of any kind originally installed in the back of the garage, it was literally permanently dark (the part under where the cars park btw

I mentioned the lack of HVAC - the house does has an oil-burning furnace - which smells of oil and makes a loud BANG every time it turns on and off

The stairs

The stairs don't really fit so there's no landing and instead there's a angled stair to rotate into the hall basically right across where the landing should be - I've tripped and nearly died on this a lot.

The stairs have only one light, at the top, which is almost impossible to reach to change bulbs, (you have to put a ladder at the top so you're at risk of falling down the entire stairwell if you fuck up) oh and this means the weird angled step is ALSO in the dark :)

The stairs extend out into the hall which is great for tripping over and dying on the concrete floor.

I'm living in the house of leaves