#we just wanted to hang out and eat bugs all day
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wonderfulworldofdarklords · 10 months ago
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We finally fixed the music cues in our first episode so they sync properly! And it only took us two years!
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moonstruckme · 10 months ago
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Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3
part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13
roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words
Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 
It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 
Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 
He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 
You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 
“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 
“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 
The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 
When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 
“What happened to your shoulder?” 
“You know how to cook?” 
“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 
“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 
“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 
You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 
“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 
“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 
There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 
“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 
“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 
“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 
James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 
“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 
“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 
“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 
“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 
“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 
“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 
You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 
James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 
“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 
“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 
“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 
“Do you?” 
James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.
He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 
“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 
You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 
James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 
He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 
“Does it hurt?” you ask. 
James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 
You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 
He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 
This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 
You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 
He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 
“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 
“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 
The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 
You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 
“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 
You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 
James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 
You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 
“Guess you’ll never know.” 
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mugglebornmarvelite · 3 months ago
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Husband Material
Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
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Summary: It was one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. A proper shit day and all you need is a hug from your boy.
Word Count: Roughly 1.1k words
Warnings: Domestic fluff, reader has a shitty day, one curse word, mild innuendo, slight angst if you squint
Author’s Note: A little drabble for those who need a Peter Parker hug. This was done at 3 in the morning and is barely edited.
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Divider by: @strangergraphics
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It had been one of those days.
From the moment you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. Work was a disaster. Your boss was unusually demanding and you got bad news from a co-worker. Plus, the heated argument with a family member during lunch had left a bitter taste in your mouth.
That sealed the deal.
It was a fucking horrible day.
By the time you got home, you felt like a storm cloud ready to burst.
It was a complete and utter shit day.
As you unlocked the door, Peter was on a call, gesturing to you with a warm smile and mouthing, “Hey, bug,” before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. It was a small thing, but it helped
You offered him a faint smile, the best you could muster, before muttering something about needing a shower.
The hot water didn’t wash away the bad day like you hoped it would. Instead, it just made you feel even more exhausted.
You got dressed with a deep sigh, trying to summon the energy to face the rest of the evening.
But your sour mood came to pause when you saw Peter. Your Peter.
Peter was on the couch, a mug of tea resting on the coffee table in front of him, his glasses perched low on his nose. His eyebrows were furrowed in an adorable scrunch as his long fingers absently toyed with the corner of the page as he read.
You couldn't decide if you wanted to bury your face in his sweater or have him buried inside you until you couldn't think.
He was wearing his softest sweater, the light blue one you always steal, and a pair of loose sweatpants that hang just right on his hips.
He looks impossibly cozy, his hair slightly messy, and the sight alone makes your heart ache in the best way.
Peter glances up as he hears your footsteps. “Hey, bug,” he says with a smile on his face, his voice warm, making you want to melt into him. “Everything okay?”
You nod, but the corners of your mouth tremble as you step closer. “I just need a hug,” you whisper, your voice small.
Without hesitation, Peter sets the book down, his glasses slipping off his nose and he rests them on top of his book.
“Come here,” he says, his arms already opening for you.
You practically fall into him, burying your face in his chest as his arms wrap securely around you. He’s warm and his sweater is so soft. The faint scent of his cologne and the tea he was drinking enveloping you.
Peter holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing circles on your back, the other cradling the back of your head.
“You’re okay,” Peter murmured, rubbing slow circles on your back. “I’ve got you.”
You sniffled, clinging to him tighter. “It was such a shit day.”
“I know, bug.” His lips brushed the top of your damp hair. “I could tell the second you walked in. Talk to me about it, or don’t. Whatever you need.”
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes glassy but thankful. “I just really needed this. You.”
His thumb brushed over your cheek, and he smiled softly, his brown eyes warm. “You’ve got me. Always.”
Peter leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You melted into him, letting his love wrap around you.
When he pulled back, he studied you for a moment, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “How about I make us some hot chocolate? We’ll watch something mindless, eat whatever snacks we have, and just shut the world out for a while.”
You let out a breathy laugh, the first real smile of your day tugging at your lips. “That sounds perfect.”
Peter grinned, stealing one more kiss before standing up. “Stay right there. I’ll take care of everything.”
As you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that still smelled faintly of him, you realized that even on the worst days, Peter Parker was the kind of husband material that made everything else bearable.
He's your home.
Peter disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later, Peter returned, balancing a tray with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, a plate of cookies, and a bowl of popcorn. He set it down on the coffee table then plopped down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
“Hot chocolate for my lady,” he said, handing you a mug.
You took it with a grateful smile, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into your palms. “You’re too good to me, you know.”
“Not possible,” Peter said, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. “You deserve all of it. Even on your worst days. You take care of me on shitty days, I'd be stupid not to do the same for my girl.”
You nudged him with your elbow, but he just grinned, pulling you closer. “Now, what are we watching? Rom-com? Thriller? Or do we just marathon bad reality tv until we can’t feel feelings anymore?”
You laughed softly. “Watching reality tv sounds like the exact thing I can handle right now.”
“Perfect,” Peter said, grabbing the remote. “I’ve got the trashiest shows lined up just for this kind of emergency.”
As the first episode of some ridiculous dating show began to play, you leaned against Peter, resting your head on his shoulder. He held you close, his hand tracing patterns on your arm as you both sipped your warm drink.
Halfway through the episode, he pressed his lips against your temple again. “Feeling a little better?” he murmured.
You nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. “Yeah. A lot better, actually.”
Peter’s gaze softened, and he reached up to brush a thumb across your cheek. “Good. Because seeing you upset kills me, bug. You don’t have to handle it all on your own, okay? I’m here.”
“I know,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” he teased, his lips turning into a playful smile before he kissed you again, this time slower and deeper.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and full of affection. “I love you.”
You smile softly. “I love you too, Pete. So much.”
He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Good. Now, let's relax and eat way too many cookies.”
You laughed, snuggling closer to him. And as the ridiculous show unfolded, Peter’s sarcastic commentary made you laugh even harder than you thought you would tonight.
No matter how bad the day had started, being with him made everything feel okay in the end.
Always.
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Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @laaundromat @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @bethies-world @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @chayceschultz @kdelarenta @alexxavicry @gryffindorsblog
If you'd like to be added to my taglist
Much love x
- Maeve
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tan1shere · 5 months ago
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Her Favorite - Pt 3
Billie Eilish x female reader !
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A/n: this is the last part of this series I hope you all enjoyed it !! This was one of my favs to write <3
Summary: you're the teachers pet. Her. Favorite.
Warnings: smut, tension ? A small tiny argument, fingering, strap, r sucks billies tits, teasing from both parts, slight angst ??? Scissoring - let me know if I missed anything !
Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu
Masterlist - pt 1 , pt 2
You didn't want to believe it, but she had been distant. Why? It was bugging you because all you wanted was her. Just her. And the more the time passes that's all you could think of. Her. Your God damn teacher. You could barely focus with the thought of her recently so when she had started this weird distancing. You were a bit hurt. But, you decide to try your best to ignore it. "Hey Y/n!" You hear Silvi say, approaching you. You turn to face her. "Oh hi!" You say cheerful. "Since we didn't get to hang out that one time I thought I'd invite you to this party I'm going to tomorrow night." You think for a moment.
"You know what yeah, I'd love to." She smiles and goes about her day. This couldn't hurt anyone right? That was unconvincing, you knew it'd bother someone. But then again that someone doesn't really seem to care currently. Why the hell not!
It was a Saturday and you were in her bed, things were quiet like they have been. Until she turns over and wraps her arms around you. "Sorry I haven't been that present. End of the year so it's hectic as a teacher." You look up into her eyes. Oh.. That's why, now you felt bad about going to this party. But why, you deserved to have fun. You just nod, going to kiss her cheek and sit up. "I uh, I'll just get going." Her brows furrow. "You know you can stay another night babe." You bite your lip. "Yeah but I just don't have a change of clothes here." She looks at you. "Those are fine, no?" You sigh. "I'm going somewhere."
Her head tilts with a grin. "What, no invite?" You stand up, causing her face to shift. Her features changing at your body language. "It's uhm, a school party. So it'd be a bit you know." She caught on. "Right, gotcha." Billies fear was infront of her, she didn't want to believe it. She was 9 years older than you ofcourse you needed to be around people your age. But she wondered if that was romantically too. She didn't want that, she just wanted you. "You hate parties though." It was true, you did. Then that jealousy kicks in. "Shes going to be there isn't she." You stay silent for a moment as you put your pants on, leaving her baggy t-shirt on.
You grab your keys,but she's up and out of bed. "Hey." She says when you don't respond, coming over and making you look at her. There was more silence as she finds the right thing to say. She wants to tell you to be careful and to not do this at all. But shes better than that. "Have fun ok?" You nod again, kissing one another before you leave. The kiss lingers on your lips, and you miss it. Did you even want to go to this party?
It was too late you were already there with Silvi, having a few drinks but never too much. You really didn't like parties but, you hadn't ever been to one so why fight something you haven't even tried. Laughing, talking, music. Honestly it was boring and you'd rather be spending it with Billie, in your underwear in the comfort. Eating crap, watching movies. That's all you'd want right now. But something pulled you out of that little day dream, you feel a hand on your thigh. Your senses going off, growing uncomfortable. You turn to see it was Silvi's you look at her as she must've done it subconsciously. Talking to whoever infront of her. But her next move wasn't so subconscious. Her hand slowly glides upwards making you get up from your seat.
Her face turns to you. But before anything else you go to find your way around into a room, not realizing she had followed. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't even-" You shake your head. "It's fine. I just think I want to go home." Not think. You were certain. "You sure?" Your brows furrow slightly. Feeling uneasy. "Positive." She comes over and sits by you. "We could go soon, you got somewhere to be?" Yes. At our teachers house. "No I just, don't really want to be here." She gets closer. You felt icky. "Please just take me home." Her demeanor changes. "Fine." Your brows furrow again, what the fuck was up with her.
You were close to Billies place. "Just let me out here." She slows down. "This isn't your place." You go to open the door. "I know it's a friend's." She didn't seem to really care. Wow, Billie was right she wasn't any good. "Bye." You say closing the door, watching her zoom off. You felt gross, wanting to get in there and find some sort of comfort. You knock on the door, getting greeted by a slightly sleepy Billie. "Hey, no fun?" You shake your head, noticeably seeming down. You step in. Being greeted by the smell of her place. It was such a beautiful smell. "Something happen?" You give it a moment. "Nah, just wanted to be in comfort tonight." She sensed something was up, but going to let it be for now.
"Ok well, the beds missing you." You smile at her. "I'm missing the bed." She puts a hand over her heart. "You and my bed might as well date, you like it more than me." You giggle, shoving her lightly. She loved making you laugh or even smile. It made her feel powerful that she could make that happen, it made her heart happy to hear and see. You both get into the bed once you get out of that annoying dress. You eventually fall asleep in one another's arms.
Wednesday, Wednesday. Wednesday. Things seemed to be normal again, which you were thankful for. Today was a stripped shirt and tie day. And she looked tasty as ever. You were in a very playful mood so today you went with yet another short skirt. Her eyes land on it instantly. Giving you a look, but you just returned it with an innocent smile. The shirt you were wearing wasn't helping either. Tight. You were honestly thanking the universe that Silvi wasn't there today. You don't need some repeat of a few weeks ago. At the end of the lesson you slowly get your things, everything was so slow, intentionally so. You go over to her desk, her eyes not meeting yours just yet even though everyone's gone.
"Hi!-" "What are you wearing." Her tone was calm, knowing good and well she was far from that. "Well hello to you aswel." Your eyes roll. "And I thought you loveddd my skirts." She stands. "Why are you testing me today hm?" You shrug. "Good thing Silvi wasn't here to drool over it." You cringed slightly, remembering she was right about her. But you soon roll your eyes again. "Whatever I seriously-" But her hand was around your neck, you tense slightly but only for a moment. It was just her, you didn't need to worry. You had actually been doing that alot recently, that whole interaction had frightened you to say the least, you felt weak and out of your own control in that moment that night.
It was frightening without a doubt. "Don't test me babygirl." Her tone was full of warning, you gulp. Clenching your thighs. Her head motion down as you do, letting out a dry chuckle. "Really? You like me doing this?" Your words go. But her hand soon leaves, causing you to whine. You wanted more. She goes back over to her desk. "I'll just finish that up then we can head to mine." You had forgotten it was the end of the day. Score. You think for a moment. "Yes ma'am." She laughs a tad, shaking her head. She thought you were being silly. No, you were dead serious. So when that doesn't work you resort to your next trick. Your eyes scan her desk.
Seeing a pencil laying there, your fingers go to move it off. "Oopsies, my bad." She wasn't really paying attention, she was finishing a few things. But her head turns as shes faced with your ass. Her eyes widen as she spots the second fucked thing you did today. Her eyes look around as if someone would see. Everyone left. Her eyes return as you slowly stand up. She grabs the bottom of your skirt pulling it as much down as she could. "Are you serious?" She then says. Your head turns to her. "Whattt?" Her eyes widen again, brows furrowing tremendously. "You were sitting there. For almost an hour with nothing on!?" You giggle. "Nooo, I just took them off. But you weren't looking sooo." Her temper shines through. "Jesus fucking christ."
She's surely worked up from seeing your bare cunt on display for her. "Office. Go." You bite your lip. And boom, you got what you want. So you thought. She locks the door behind her, coming up behind you and pushing you over her desk. Causing you to bend over. "Might just tease the fuck out of you and leave you here." Your head turns to look back at her. "You wouldn't." - "Oh yeah?" Her finger makes contact with your folds. "Imagine if someone had walked in." She was still mad, making her finger retract. This was going to piss you off sooner or later. She grabs her tie, bringing it over your exposed ass.
"Out in the open like that." It travels around to your neck, she wraps it around tightening ever so slightly. "With this stupid fucking skirt." It tightens more, you gasp. But it then loosens as she grabs your wrists, tying them together. Causing you to fall further into the desk, the coolness hitting your cheek. Her hand makes contact with your hair, pushing just a tad. "Please, I'm sorry." You then plead. She chuckles maniacally. "Bad girls don't get treated nicely." You bite your lip as you think of a response. "Teach me to be good then." You say, your voice soft. It was her turn to bite her lip. "You gunna listen?" You nod. "Answer me." - "Yes, Ms O'Connell." She lets out a breath, finding the way you say it so hot.
Her hands fiddle with the belt around her waist, pulling out your favorite one of her straps. It was the second most large one she owned. And in an instant it's prodding your hole, ready for access. Your back arches, moving around to try get it in. "Don't dig your grave further." She says stilling your hips. "B-" You stop yourself. This was already bad you couldn't make things worse. Little did you know. The tip slides in, not fast enough but you keep your mouth shut. No whines, no protests no nothing. Not until she bottoms out inside you. Your mouth hangs open at the feeling. "This fucking skirt." Her fury was still evident. Very. Evident. Especially when she snaps her hips hard against you.
The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, your legs almost doing the same but her hands make sure that doesn't happen. Your brain went into a frenzy, biting your lip so hard you draw some blood. Your tongue swipes over it, letting out a small hum. She looks at why you had done that, seeing your blood lip. She looks at it for a split second, then your eyes. The way they roll back as she's giving you backshots on her fucking desk. You were like a drug to her, she found you to be the most precious thing ever. "Gunna cum? Can feel you getting tighter." Her body leans over yours, her hands on the brown wood. Either side of your body. Her thrusts were ungodly. "Mm, yes!" You gasp as it hits your g-spot. "Found it." You moan. Cumming immediately.
She pulls out bringing you up and making you sit on the desk. Kissing your lips, tasting that same thing you tasted moments ago. Slowly pushing you back, feeling the cold desk against you. She was hovering over you, no words being said. She gets up close to you. "Maybe you should get it into your head..." Her voice low. Her hand moves to wrap around your neck her strength pulling you up and off her desk just slightly. Your eyes widen as she does. "You're mine." But you smirk, sealing the whole situation with one last kiss.
Fridays were probably your favorite, not only was it the end of the week, but you got to see your hot girlfriend. As you enter you're blinded by today's outfit. How would you ever focus. The dang glasses. The way her top fit perfectly, the long skirt. You sit down in your spot. Fixated on her cleavage. You needed to stop this was bad. Then you thought for longer. Was this pay back? Was she giving you a taste of your own medicine from the other day? Your heart skips a beat when she makes eye contact with you. Your thighs squeeze. She was so evil.
You were begging for this to be over and soon. You were also begging to suck on her t- "Y/n? You with us?" You gulp quietly, but her eyes watch your throat. She knew. "Oh, yes. Sorry." This was absolute torture. But you let out a relieved sigh when it was finally time. Everyone goes to leave as you go over to her. "Hi!" You say happily. She smirks. "Hi babygirl." That fucking nickname. "You good today?" Oh God the way she was speaking. "Yes." You knew she was asking how you were feeling, not how you would be acting for her. On your knees, obeyi- "Earth to Y/n?" Your head shakes. "Huh?" She smiles. She's got you right where she wants you. "I asked if you were ready to go my love?"
"Mhmm!" You say wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. You needed her. So bad. So when you get to hers your legs rush to her room, her slowly following. You whine at how long she's taking. "Billieee." She laughs. "Yes pumpkin?" You glare at her, getting frustrated. But you were just so needy there was no room for your bratty remarks. "Pleaseeee." You say, from your spot on the bed. She comes over, getting ontop of you. Thankfully there was a slit in the skirt so she could maneuver properly. Her hand moves over your body, moving to your soaked underwear. She hums to herself. Knowing exactly what she's upto. And glad she's succeeding.
Her finger slips past and enters you a little bit. You gasp. "Remember to breathe." ..... "Good girl." Her fingers enter you slowly. But your eyes are glued to her tits. They just looked so incredibly good in that outfit. Your hands move to touch but she grips them. "Uh uh. Since you didn't have a proper punishment the other day you need to learn your mistakes." You huff, is she serious? She can't be. You just wanted to wrap your lips around them and you wanted to do it now. "That's not fair." You mumble. Her brows raise.
"No? Not fair huh? Let's circle back to you wearing that tight, shirt and tiny tiny skirt. I had to focus on teaching, I had to refrain from fucking the living shit out of you because you indeed looked God damn hot in it. I had to wait a whole. Hour. You can't wait that, and a bit more. Can't you?" You swallow. Having no words. "Bu-" "Uh uh. Don't but me, you know good and well." You let out a moany, huff. "Come on now, don't be like that angel. You'll get what you want. You just have to work for it." You wriggle. "Ah! Lesson learned, I won't do it again." She doesn't even let your hand move to touch before she's pinning them down. "What, did I say."
And you caved, you were too far gone with need to care. "Please, Billie I'm sorry I wore such a revealing skirt like that in public, you know I won't do it again. I promise and if I break it you can do such horrible things and I'll have to take it just please. Please let me suck them." You were almost on the verge of tears, but man was she enjoying every bit of this. "You want to suck them huh?" She ponders as you nod manically. "Please, I need to so bad." She still thinks. "No wonder you were so wet." You whimper. Oh that sweet whimper. And within an instant that shirt is loose. Her tits spill out right before your eyes.
Your thighs sqish tightly as your mouth latches so fast. Closing your eyes. She bites her lip, watching you suck. Bite. Do it all. You were too far gone. Incredibly far. The way you swirld your tongue made her grunt. The feeling so good. Her hand makes its way into your hair, stroking it as you do so. "You are a good girl, shit." She breathes. But she nearly goes mental with your next words. "Mmm, mommy." Her eyes look at the headboard processing. She grabs your face, kissing you with such hunger. Your subby state makes it sloppy. Moaning into the kiss. "Say that again." She says against your lips. And as you were about to. Her finger is back in your pulsing cunt. "F-fuck! Mommy." - "Mm, good. Louder."
Her fingers speed up as you go to again. "Mommy!" It was music to her ears. If she wasn't inlove before she sure as hell is now. "Cum for me, go on." Her fingers enter deep. Making your head spin, and eyes roll back. Gushing all over her fingers. Her eyes look down, looking at the white substance. "You, my girl. Are just one sexy thing huh?" Your head rests back out of breath. "You're sexier."
Weeks pass. Things were back to how they were a few months back. Everyime something beautiful happens it gets ruined and by what? It was eating at you. Was it you? What was going on. You wanted to ask but that'd just opened room for her asking what had happened that night. She had asked the day after if you wanted to talk about it but you declined and said it wasn't important. Maybe you should've told her. You didn't want her freaking out or even saying- 'I told you so.' But when she notices your strange behavior over the last few days its making her want to know more.
The other day.
You had just woken up, making some food, when you hadn't heard her come in. You had on her t-shirt and some underwear, humming away to yourself. When a hand touches your thigh, the same thigh that she touched. You jump back, turning to look at her. She was about to apologize for giving you a fright, but then she remembered. She's done that dozens of times before. You always knew it was her and you always put your head on her shoulder. So when none of that happened she gets more confused. "You've been doing that alot recently angel, everything ok?" You're silent for a bit. "Yeah! Just didn't hear you come in." Such a lie. Even if that was true, she knew something had to be up with the way you reacted. "Okay.."
She thrusts into you slowly, it was all sweet. Everything was. The eye contact, the intimacy. Her thrusts soon speed up, wanting to get you to that bliss feeling. Loving how she always could. She was getting closer to. But everything in the room changes. She touches that sane spot on your thigh making you tense up and gasp. She hadn't noticed at first seeing as you gasp all the time. What was it with that thigh. It wasn't even because of Silvi. But for some reason she triggered it. Something happened ages ago and it was slowly coming back to you. Your hand wraps around her wrist.
Causing her attention to be on you, her brows furrow as she sees your discomfort. She would never ever want to hurt you in any way. "Too fast?" You think for a second, you had to lie you couldn't tell her what was truly bothering you. You then nod, her hand moving to your hip. Soothing any further discomfort. "Sorry babe."
She begins the lesson for today, writing on the board. After that one night things were still dry in the air. You honestly hated it, but it was probably all your fault all along. That's what you'd been telling yourself. But it wasn't all you. Billie was in fact distancing. It was the last thing that she wanted but she was falling hard for you. One half of her didn't care about the fact she was falling for someone so amazing. She loved it, and then the other half wondered if you could do better. When your in your early 30s she will be in her 40s. It didn't sound that bad but it was intense to think about. Let alone the fact she's still your teacher. Even if the year was ending for you this year, you wouldn't have to be as secret atleast.
This was her brain constantly, weighing out the pros and cons. But why should she, she knew what she felt was real despite all of that. But she cared too much about you. She just wanted you to be happy and she didn't know if that was with her. But she definitely looked good today. It made you miss how closer you were before the weird change. You hardly went over to hers anymore and it hurt. It really hurt. "Sorry I'm late." It was Silvi, she had been gone for over a month. You had no idea why. But you avert your gaze, feeling uncomfortable. Remembering that night so clearly. "That's alright, take a seat." Billie gives her a kind smile. Continuing to talk about today's lesson. When her eyes land on you, she notices that sane discomfort like the other night. All she wants to do is comfort you. But she had to stay professional.
She can deal with this afterwards. As the class nears the end she spots how you shift in your seat when Silvi walks past. Her brows furrow, now she was determined to figure out what had happened. Did she do something?
The car ride was silent. It was bugging the both of you but none of you say a thing. As the night goes on it proceeds to consist. Until she speaks up, finally. "You've been weird lately, especially that night that you came home strange from that party and you'd refuse to tell me what happened. And even the other night when-"
"Not now Billie please." - "So you admit something happened?" You stay quiet continuing to take your makeup off. "If not now when? Huh? You keep putting it off whenever I ask you if you're ok. I worry about you for fuck sakes." You turn around so fast. "Bull fucking shit. You've been distancing yourself again! I know damn well its not school. So what is it?" Now she's silent. "What, happened. At. That. Party." You turn to face the mirror. "If you won't tell me why you're distant I won't be telling you that." She was seething, you'd never seen her so angry before. But you didn't care you were getting annoyed too.
Then within seconds her hand Flys to your wrist, you jump getting a fright. She stops in her tracks. "She touched you. Didn't she." You Avert her eyes. "No." Hers squint, not believing that for even a second. "Did she?" - "Billie."
"Did she fucking touch you?"
"Yes. But I stopped it God, why are you so worried." Her brows furrow. "Because, you didn't give her consent to do that! That stupid bitch just thought she could do whatever."
"Why are you so worried when I stopped it." - "She could've pressured you." You shake your head. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She puts her weight on her left foot. "You know I don't think that." - "Again. Why are you so fucking worried when you're the only one I want touching me." The room fell silent, a slight need creeping in the air. Her face moves, eyes locking into your own. Her feet move, but so do yours. Lips instantly crashing on the others. Everything grew heated. "Only one?" You nod. "Only one." You both say between kisses. "It's only ever been you." Those words fuel everything in her.
Backing you up out of the bathroom and onto the bed her kisses trail down your neck, down to your cleavage. She takes all that you were wearing off, seeing you all. She then takes her clothes off, leaving you in awe about the special moment that was about to happen. Just you and her, closer than ever. When her cunt slots perfectly into yours you both let out a long well needed moan. This was all you ever wanted, it's all she ever wanted. To have you close in this way. She moves against you, her body moving closer to your own as your breasts touch. Her lips meet yours as she kisses you.
It was the sweetest kiss ever. Full of every emotion. As her movements pick up she pulls back loving how this all felt. "I love you." You were taken aback for a second. But that soon goes away. "I love you." You then reply, she was so happy. Your hands go to her face. "I'm inlove with you." Her heart melts, that's all she ever wanted. She just had no idea if you'd feel the same. "Together." She says softly, putting loose strands of your hair away from your face to see you better. You nod as she picks up momentum, feeling that amazing feeling building up. She feels it too, she feels it all. And with one last move of her hips your both gushing against one another.
You grab her face going to kiss her again, both smiling into it. She lays back on the bed, holding you in her arms. "Why I was distancing honestly had nothing to do with you. It was just my fucked up brain scared I'd ruin things and I nearly did." Your hand rests on her shoulder as you're both on your sides. "Bills. You could never ruin things, I think I've loved you for a very long time, but I too, was afraid. I'd never want you to feel like you had to choose me." She shakes her head. "I'd choose you in a million life times, over and over again." Her hands hold your face. This whole moment was just perfect. It was good to clear up things and communicate. Her eyes wander to your thigh. "I hope you know you can tell me anything at all. I'm here for you, always."
You nod as she says that. You trust her, which was hard for you. You thought this whole school would change that and it had. All because of her. You grab her hand moving it to that exact thigh. You let out a small breath as she watches your face, scans it. Her thumb moving over it soothingly. "Did something deeper happen to you?" You look at her. Thinking for a moment. "Nothing you need to worry about."
Except there was something deeper. Massively, that you knew youd have to tell eventually. And you would. Youd tell her everything. She was now your everything.
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sulliedgracee · 13 days ago
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How the survivors show their affection.
Eat up everyone. Here we go.
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Noob - Probably a little shy. Tries so hard to show their affection but usually ends up turning into a flustered mess. Probably blushes super easily too. I like to think they would give you little gifts. If you say you like something, they will give it to you as a gift. They also like cuddles a lot.
Chance - Tries to keep it cool, in reality he's a flustered mess like Noob. He's very romantic, will take you out on many dates and give you gifts. He also will spend a lot of time with you, even if it's just hanging out doing nothing and just enjoying each other's company.
Guest 1337 - He comes off as stern but he actually cares about you so much. He would definitely make sure to give you lots of kisses and hugs. I feel like he would have a huge soft spot for his lover, showering them in physical affection and he would try his best to tell you how much he loves you. Even if he's not great at it.
Two Time - A little awkward, wants to tell you how much they love you but can't ever find the right words. Probably gives you a lot of flowers. They like to hold your hand and would take you on dates to watch the sunset.
Shedletsky - Probably not that romantic in public. Alone he would be a lot more affectionate by giving you cuddles and kisses. He would probably ramble to you about little things he likes about you for hours.
Builderman - Definitely will make you something and give it to you as a gift. He would also love to take you to the park and watch birds as you held hands. He would also make you dinner after you got home from work.
007n7 - Despite being very anxious, he tries his very best to let you know that he loves you. He would take you to the movies a lot and dinner afterwards. He would also lay with you sleepily on the couch watching a movie. He would make sure to give you lots of kisses too.
Taph - Would definitely be a cuddle bug. He will tell you that he loves you in sign language a lot and also give you little gifts like a pretty rock to show that he loves you.
Dusekkar - He would write you poems about how much he loves you or how your eyes remind him of the stars. Very romantic with his words too. He would take you on dates to stargaze.
Elliot - A big gift giver, would probably save up his money to buy you something nice and take you on a nice date. He would also hold your hand a ton. He would definitely go all out for Valentines day and your anniversary with him.
Let me know if you'd like to hear more! My requests are open if you'd like me to write something for a certain survivor or killer. ^-^
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roosterforme · 8 months ago
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Aim for the Sky Part 17 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley loved settling in to a new routine with Rose at home. Taking care of you and the baby felt natural. If the most stressful thing he has to deal with was her godfather, then he counted it as a win.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, swearing, DILF Roo
Length: 3800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
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"Here are your books," Bradley said softly as he carried his daughter around her nursery to her bookshelf. "And here is your crib." She blinked up at him and yawned, and he broke out into a smile. "And here's the chair from your grandparents where Mommy is going to feed you so you can take a nap."
You were standing in the doorway with both hands on Tramp's collar while he whimpered nonstop. "He's not going to rest until he gets to sniff her again," you said, fighting to hang onto him. "And lick her, and roll around on the floor next to her."
"Fine," Bradley said with a sigh. Tramp just spent twenty minutes losing his mind over the baby, but apparently that wasn't enough. Bradley sank down onto the floor with Rose in his arms, and she stretched her fists up toward his face and gave a soft cry. She looked adorable in the outfit your parents bought for her, and his heart clenched like always when he imagined how his own mom and dad would have reacted to being grandparents.
"Here he comes," you said, releasing the collar, and Tramp bounded the rest of the way into the nursery, whimpering and shaking with excitement. He licked the top of Rose's head, making her cry in the process before he started sniffing her hands.
"For fuck's sake," Bradley grunted, trying to coax Tramp to sit down while Rose curled up against his chest. "He's more excited about the baby than I am."
Carefully you sat next to him on the soft rug that looked like a cloud in the airplane nursery, kissing his cheek before you said, "Don't swear in front of the child."
He rolled his eyes. "She can't understand it yet."
You gave him a pointed look. "Don't make me take away your privileges."
Bradley opened his mouth to ask what you meant, but he was immediately silenced as you pulled your shirt over your head and got ready to feed Rose. "Shit," he muttered, wondering how the fuck he was going to last six weeks with your tits in his face and zero chance at intercourse. "I'll behave."
"While Rose eats, I think we should talk about a few things," you whispered, taking her into your arms with a smile and kissing her cheek before getting her situated.
Bradley pulled Tramp onto his lap, doing his best to keep him from loudly sniffing his human sister and making her cry again. Bradley watched you fidget with your leggings around your waist. "What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?" he asked while you fed Rose.
"No," you muttered, not looking at him. "My body is like a deflated balloon."
"Baby Girl," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your ear softly. "You're only a few days postpartum. You birthed an entire person. And you look beautiful. You always will."
He gave up his quest to keep Tramp at bay and let the dog lick the baby's foot as you started crying. "I think my hormones are going insane again," you sobbed, and he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and helped you hold Rose with the other. "And I'm really tired."
"I know," he whispered, peppering your face with kisses. "That's why I'm sending you and the Nugget both for nap time as soon as she's done. Now let's talk about what you want to talk about."
"Right," you said with a sob, like you had forgotten all about it. "My parents aren't going to stop bugging until I tell them when they can come visit."
Now that the attic was available, Bradley didn't mind having them in the house all that much. "Since I'm taking the next week off, why don't you tell them to come out the week after that? So you can have some help when I'm on base?"
"That's a good idea," you said as you carefully maneuvered Rose to your other breast. "We also need to give Rose a godfather." Bradley closed his eyes and pictured literally anybody but Jake. "And I was thinking Jake."
He heaved a weary sigh. "Of course you were," he grouched as Tramp finally calmed down and curled up on the floor. You looked at Bradley without saying a word, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Hard. Jake was a fucking pain in the ass. He always has been, and he always will be. But... he took care of you when Josh tried to assault you while Bradley was deployed. And Jake was the one he turned to when he had a panic attack about getting himself killed before he got to meet his daughter. Jake even graciously promised he would look after you and Rosie and finish building the playset if something happened to him. And he never gave Bradley a hard time for any of it.
"Fuck. How the fuck is this my life?" Bradley groaned, sprawling out on the floor with Tramp and staring at the ceiling.
"What did I say about all the swearing, Roo?" you scolded, but when Bradley focused his gaze on your face, you were smiling. "Does that mean you're okay with Jake?"
Bradley looked at Rose and then back at you. "Yeah," he rasped while wincing.
"Perfect. We can tell him when he stops over tomorrow."
"He's coming over tomorrow?"
"Yes. With Cat and Jeremiah," you said, wiping Rose's lips with a burp cloth as Bradley sat up again.
"Let me hold my Nugget to help ease my pain and suffering."
"You're so dramatic. It's not like you'll suddenly be related to Jake," you said with a laugh, literally flaunting your tits as you stood up. "I'm going to call my parents and then take a little nap as long as you've got her?"
Bradley looked at his daughter as she curled up in his arms. "Yeah. I've got her," he promised, and you kissed him before you left the nursery. 
"We're going to take a little walk," he whispered, picking up the burp cloth that you left on the chair. Bradley carried Rose through the house, marveling once again at how tiny she was in his hands as he tried to burp her. Then he slipped out the sliding glass door to the backyard as he said, "This Jake thing wasn't my idea. You heard your mother. She's got some weird ideas sometimes, but I love her too much to tell her no. So let's set some rules. Under no circumstances are you ever allowed to think your godfather is funnier than your old man, okay?"
Rose simply yawned as Bradley sat down on one of the swings, cradling her.
"Exactly. He's a snoozefest. I totally get the yawning." He pressed his lips to her cheek. "And when you're old enough to talk, I need you to tell him that your godmother is way cooler than your godfather. If you agree, then don't say a word."
Bradley moved the swing slowly as she snuggled against him and silently closed her eyes. "That's my girl," he whispered, keeping her warm against his body in the early spring sunlight.
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When you woke up, your body was sore, and your stomach was growling. You didn't know what time it was, but your breasts hurt enough that you thought perhaps it was time to feed Rose again. You climbed out of bed and froze as you reached for your glasses. Something smelled good. Familiar. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you whispered, "Surely not."
Rose's door was closed when you walked down the hallway, and you found your husband in the kitchen, working in front of the stove.
"You're cooking Marry Me Rooster!"
He looked up at you with a bewildered expression on his face, like a deer caught in headlights. "I am," he replied, voice hoarse. "I've been training over facetime with your mom for months, but this is my first time actually trying it."
Your heart swelled with love as you took a step closer to him and your grandmother's recipe sheet, but he held up a hand and shook his head.
"I think it's best if I give this my full attention," he said, eyes wild as he turned back to the stove. "But maybe you should have the fire extinguisher handy just in case."
You backed slowly away from him, hand covering your mouth to try to keep your laughter in. Excitement bubbled inside you knowing you'd get to eat one of your favorite dinners tonight. Bradley was pretty good at cooking now. He could pull it off. Probably.
Your daughter's cries started ramping up in her nursery, and you had a visceral reaction to it. "I'm coming," you called out, already pulling your shirt over your head as you walked inside. The fact that she even looked adorable when her face was all scrunched up in tears was concerning to you; Bradley would be unstoppable with spoiling her.
As soon as you scooped her up into your arms, she quieted down. Her weight against your body was calming as you rocked her in the chair while you fed her, and you weren't surprised at all that Tramp was sitting at your feet with his eyes glued on the baby.
"Just wait until she can walk," you told him. "The two of you will be besties, terrorizing everyone else."
You heard some loud noises in the kitchen followed by Bradley's voice. "It's fine! It's all fine!"
"I'm kind of concerned," you whispered to Rose, running your fingers along her little bit of fuzzy hair. "But Daddy learned how to cook just for you and me. We are already spoiled."
To your surprise, dinner was mostly good. The kitchen was completely trashed, and Bradley looked like he just ran a marathon, but the food was edible. It even tasted good, if not a little bit on the salty side.
"I am so impressed, Roo," you said with a smile. He was holding Rose to his chest with one hand and inhaling the pasta and chicken.
"I wanted you to have something special. It's nowhere near as good as yours though," he mumbled with a shrug around some bites. "But it's okay. I'm kind of hoping Cat will bring food with them when they stop by tomorrow. She knows how to cook like you do. Jake and I would have probably starved to death by now."
He set his fork down to run his knuckle along Rose's cheek as you started to clean up the dishes. "I thought it was wonderful," you whispered. "Nobody else ever cooked just for me before."
That made him smile. 
----------------------------------
Bradley intended to write in the Nugget notebook while the events from the hospital were still fresh in his mind, but he passed out in bed as soon as you did. Rose cried three times overnight when she was hungry, and he realized he was actually quite useless when it came to that scenario. All he could really do to help was burp her. By the time he was making breakfast, you looked absolutely exhausted.
"That was kind of a rough night," he said while trying so hard not to burn the toast.
"I think that's just how nights are going to be for a while," you replied with a yawn as you carried the baby around.
Bradley spread some of the avocado concoction he whipped up onto the perfectly toasted slice of overpriced bread that you liked, and he took Rose from you so you could have a break.
"Thanks," you muttered before biting into your breakfast. "It's still so strange that you're the one cooking now."
"Oh shit," he said in delight as he kissed his daughter. "I almost forgot."
"Stop swearing!" you called as he walked outside to the garage where that fancy baby carrier thing was. 
He'd been using it to lift weights, training for this very occasion. He snatched it up and took it back in the house where he set Rose down on the couch to fasten the straps around himself. "Look at this!" he said, slipping the baby in against his chest. You were shaking your head and finishing your toast as he paraded around wearing Rose.
"You're so adorable, Roo."
"It's not me. It's the baby." He looked down at her cute face where her cheek was squished against his chest. "Can't get enough."
You wrapped your arms carefully around him, turning Rose into a sandwich as you ran your fingers through the hair along his temples. "You are such a DILF, Bradley. Gray hairs and heart eyes for your daughter."
"Stop," he groaned, turning to kiss your wrist. "Do you have any idea how hard it's going to be for me to not fuck you right now?" Someone knocked on the front door and he gave you a look. "What time did you tell Jake and Cat to stop by?"
"Tonight," you replied, heading across the living room. "It couldn't be them."
Bradley was relieved to see Maverick when you opened the door. "I'm not staying," he said as you invited him inside with bags in his hands. "I just wanted to see this little one for myself and drop some things off." He shook Bradley's hand and then just stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rose slowly fall asleep in her carrier. "My god," he whispered, eyes shining with tears. "A brand new Bradshaw."
"Do you want to hold her?" you asked him, already reaching for the carrier. But Maverick shook his head.
"No, let her sleep. I'll come back one day with Penny and Amelia. We'll bring pizza. Just let us know which night is good." He looked up at Bradley, cuffing him on the shoulder as he said, "I wanted to be one of the first to say congratulations. Your mom and dad would have been overjoyed."
"Thanks, Mav," Bradley whispered, tears in his own eyes now. "I'm kind of obsessed with her, so I know my mom would have been as well."
Maverick shook his head, still giving Bradley's bicep a squeeze. "Your dad would have never shut up about having a granddaughter. That's a fact."
Bradley pulled his godfather in for a hug before he left with the promise to return later in the week when he was invited. Then he kissed the top of Rose's head as you rummaged around in the bags that had been left behind.
"Penny seems to have gone a bit overboard with groceries," you muttered, pulling lunch meat, bread and some chicken breasts from one of the bags. "Oh! A bottle of pink champagne!"
"Put it in the fridge," Bradley said. "I'm going to need a drink after you tell Jake he'll be the Nugget's godfather."
You rolled your eyes and dug around in a gift bag that was overflowing with tissue paper, and you gasped as you pulled out two stuffed animals. They simply looked like birds, but when Bradley took a step closer, he laughed. 
"Mav really bought Rosie a plush goose and a plush rooster."
You had a bright smile on your beautiful face as you examined them. "He's quite the joker, but these are so cute. I'm going to put them in her nursery."
"After that, you should go take a nap," Bradley said, swaying slowly from side to side with his hand resting on the back of his daughter's head while she napped. "This little girl is sound asleep, and I can do a few chores with her in the carrier."
You gave him a look that would usually mean he was getting lucky later, but that was off the table right now. When you walked past, you kissed Rose's hand and then his cheek before you said, "Make sure you chill the champagne. We can have fun later."
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Jake, Cat and Jeremiah arrived with balloons, boxes of diapers, meals in tupperware containers, and a lot of excitement. 
"You didn't have to bring all of this," you said as Jake stacked things up inside the front door.
"Yes, they did," Bradley muttered, taking a peek in the food containers. "There's a casserole and a lasagna."
"You literally just ate dinner," you told him, handing Rose over to Cat who was practically vibrating with excitement. But Bradley wasn't listening as he followed the very inquisitive two year old boy around the living, making sure he didn't get hurt chasing Tramp.
"Why do babies smell so good?" Cat asked as Rose squirmed a bit in her arms. "So fresh and clean."
You didn't even get to respond before Jake squeezed you tight and said, "Congratulations, Angel. You mated with Bradshaw, and somehow the baby turned out cute."
"I would say something," Bradley retorted from next to the couch, "but I'm not allowed to swear in front of children."
Jake snorted. "I'm just messing around."
"Hey, I'm going to take him outside to play on the swings for a bit," Bradley said, scooping Jeremiah up before he could yank on Tramp's tail.
You gave him a pointed look and nodded toward Jake. "Don't we have something we'd like to ask him first?"
Bradley's smile turned into a bit of a frown. "No. I don't think we do."
"Bradley!" you scolded, and he tipped his head back with a groan.
"Fine. But I'm not saying it."
You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned toward Jake. "Bradley and I would very much like for you to be Rose's godfather. If you're interested."
The words were barely out of your mouth before Jake had you flush against him in a bone crushing hug. "Wooo, boy. Godfather to a Bradshaw? We do live in some wild times, don't we, Rooster?"
Bradley muttered something incoherent while you asked, "Does that mean you're interested?"
He released you and turned toward Cat. "Please pass the godchild to the godfather. I'm about to make this baby an offer she can't refuse."
"She's a burrito! Not a cannoli!" Bradley called out from the sliding glass door before heading outside with Jeremiah.
"Is Phoenix her godmother?" Jake asked softly while holding Rose and supporting her head.
"Yes," you replied, in awe over how careful he was being.
"You realize that spells complete disaster, right?"
"Sure," you agreed. But you'd never seen anyone hold someone else's baby with quite as much respect as Nat and Jake held Rose.
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Bradley played with Rose on the couch with an episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey on in the background. "You see what happens when you marry for money?" he asked his daughter as she wrapped her fingers around his pinky. "Sure, you get a Lamborghini out of the deal, but you also get arrested for tax fraud and embezzlement." He kissed her forehead. "Don't do that, okay?"
She cooed softly, and he took that as a sound of agreement.
"I'm ready."
Bradley glanced up to see you fresh out of the shower wearing the robe that Nat gave you. "I'll bring her right in," he replied.
"Grab the champagne, too."
He did exactly as he was told and handed the baby to you where you sat in the glider chair in the nursery before he carefully opened the bottle. The sound startled Rose, and she started crying hysterically. Bradley was on his knees in front of the chair instantly, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Nugget. That was way too loud."
"I think she's getting hangry, too," you mused, loosening the sash of your robe so you could feed her. And once again, Bradley was just captivated by all of it and so in love. He took a long sip of the pink champagne before offering you the bottle. "I can only have a little bit."
"I know Sweetheart, but it's your favorite." You had milk beading on your nipple while you fed Rose, and Bradley watched you lick your lips before handing the bottle back to him. He groaned softly, dizzy from all of it. 
"This is so fascinating," he whispered, taking another sip before setting the bottle down. When he reached out to touch your breast, you let him. You felt warm and heavy, and he took your milk onto his thumb and licked it clean.
"You know..." you whispered, switching Rose to your other side. "After having alcohol, it's probably a good idea to pump some of my milk to make sure she doesn't get any of it."
Bradley sat up a little straighter, willing to get you anything you needed. "Want me to set up the pump?"
"Nah," you replied, shaking your head. "I haven't gotten the hang of it yet, but I'm sure there's another way you can help me." Your graceful fingers stroked Rose's cheek as the milk drunk baby started slowing down. "When she's finished, it's your turn."
Bradley jumped to his feet as soon as Rose started to drift to sleep. "I'll get cleaned up and meet you in bed," you whispered as he took the baby from your arms. He deftly changed her diaper and got her zipped back into her sleeper before setting her in her crib.
"How about you sleep more tonight?" he asked. "Give me a chance to play with Mommy before she's too tired? I like her tits, too."
He could hear you laughing down the hallway. "I can hear you through the baby monitor!" you called out, but Bradley had no shame. He kissed his daughter one last time before turning on the night light and the ceiling fan, and then he was on his way to you.
When he stood in the doorway, you were sitting in bed with your robe open. Soft light from your lamp was making every curve of your body look irresistible to him, and now that he had you alone, he knew he was going to struggle.
He made a desperate sound as he ran his hand over his face. "Baby Girl," he whined. "I want you so bad."
"Come here," you coaxed, rubbing the spot on the bed next to you. He was there in an instant, sitting with his back against the headboard as you crawled into his lap. As soon as you nudged his shorts with your knee, he swallowed hard, saliva pooling on his tongue at the sight of your milk dripping from you and onto his shirt.
"Oh, shit," he whispered, letting you get yourself comfortable before he wrapped his arms around you. "It's my turn?"
You ran your fingers along his scarred cheek and back through his hair. "Your turn," you whispered, lips ghosting against his as he throbbed for you.
Bradley took your breasts gently in his hands, ran his thumbs along your nipples and rubbed his nose between your tits. Then he let himself taste you to his heart's content.
-------------------------------
Roo is living his very best life, other than potentially seeing Jake more frequently. Hopefully Nat will balance that out for him. Grandparents are coming to visit soon! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 18
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@chassy21
@solacestyles
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@bcon24
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
@katiebby04
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@nessjo
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@lyn-js
@marve2014
@furiousladyking
@godsfavoritebabe
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na0koz · 4 months ago
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some jinx hcs!!!!! just general ones
toxic!jinx masterlist
- her love languages are physical touch and quality time. since you met you’ve spent more time than not with her and she honestly can’t go more than two days without seeing you. most of the time you hang out with her she’s touching you in some way as well. holding your hand or a strand of your hair, anything.
- loves to sit in your lap all curled up while you hold her head to your chest. it makes her feel safe and loved. she just crawls into your lap whenever she needs a little extra comfort.
- we all know jinx is a genius, and it’s no secret when she makes little trinkets for you. ones that play songs or light up, all completely from scratch. they’re all specific and meaningful to you or your relationship too, like your favourite song.
- it took a lot of convincing for her to meet your family. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to she was just so scared of what they would think of her. if they were going to make you stop seeing her or something. she knows she’s a little strange but she has no idea how she would come across to her girlfriend’s parents.
- i feel like she wouldn’t watch any movies or tv shows. like if you say “have you seen ___?” she’s like “what’s that” every single time. the only shows or movies she’s seen were with you.
- the same kinda goes in reverse for the music jinx listens to. she listens to purely underground artists but not in a pretentious annoying way. that’s just the music she likes and you’ve never heard of any of the bands she likes. she also has never heard of super popular artists like arctic monkeys or whatever.
- prefers when you do her hair. she lets you wash it, brush it and braid it. she says you just ‘do it better’ and she loves the feeling of your fingers in her hair.
- she doesn’t sleep that much, and when she does she really struggles to stay asleep. it’s a little easier when she sleeps with you, especially when you’re holding her but she still struggles. she goes days with basically no sleep and then one day will spend the whole day napping on your shoulder/in your lap.
- knows literally everything about you. she knows where you fell and got the barely visible scar on your calf when you were 11, she knows your favorite pasta recipe exactly, she knows exactly how to make you feel good.
- lovveeeesss when you call her nicknames. like literally anything. simple but she likes baby the most. she calls you stupid ones like ‘sexy’ and ‘hot stuff’ because she thinks romantic ones like the ones you use for her sound weird coming out of her mouth.
- loves bugs. she just lets spiders live in her apartment. she’s one of those people that says you shouldn’t put them outside because they eat the flies or ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them!’
- really good at memorising numbers. examples include your phone number, street/house number, birthday, childhood home address… all coincidentally to do with you! coincidentally.
- tattooed your initial on herself somewhere you wouldn’t see at first. she was hesitant to have sex at first purely because she wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing the first letter on your name on her v-line.
- has so many clothes???? you don’t know where she gets them from and when you ask her about it, she says it’s because she hadn’t grown since she was 14 so she’s got like several years worth of clothes gathered up.
- doesn’t blink like ever. you could be telling a story and she just stares at you the entire time. when you notice how she hasn’t blinked or looked away from you and start to stutter, she’s genuinely confused when you ask her why she doesn’t blink. “i do blink! just not right now…”
- talks in her sleep and does notttt stay still yet still manages to keep touching you in some way. you could wake up with her on the floor but still holding firmly onto your hand. she just sleeps very deeply when she actually manages to get to sleep
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jealousmartini · 3 months ago
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STUFF I CANT WAIT FOR IN MY MHA DR .𖥔˚🎀
   ── .✦  ┆  𖤐  ┆  ␥ 
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⤷ a bit of FYI
Because I am shifting to my dr during the end of the 2nd school year, I will have already found vigilante Deku with the rest of class 1A, won the war arc against my own personal nemesis, and had my awesome quirk awakening. It's also 5 days before Bakugo's birthday in my dr AND it's the weekend (Friday) so I dont have to worry about patrolling or homework when i literally just got there! So it's free time!
«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»
... Super stoked for!
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing my entire appearance!
Not even gonna lie to yall.. I am SO stupidly fine in all of my mha drs actually. But specifically talking about my main mha dr, I literally am so gorgeous. My body is so undoubtedly bomb, my face card is fire, my hair so tea.. no wonder so many people are down bad for me. I know for sure the first thing I'll do when I shift is stare at my reflection, tracing my curves and all.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Wearing my hero costume, using my quirks and my gadgets
My hero costume is so iconic. It's like a mecha space suit centered around a cunty corset with big ass chunky boots like uraraka, a pair of bug eye looking goggles and a mecha headset with antenna. The space theme is fitting for my for my quirk, and my Twilight sparkle ahh hair.
My magnetism quirk is so much fun dude. I can make anything attract, retract or rotate to or from me, and manipulate it to mimic telekinesis. Uraraka wannabe yeah yeah I know but it's unique enough for it to be it's own thing. Using it creatively is gonna be a blast too!
In my dr, I am a pro at creating gadgets, weapons, and upgrading preexisting gear. I work in both the hero and the support course so my class mates get the best of both worlds cus they've got a mini Tony stark in their class. I even got the spare keys to the utility support room.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Hanging out in my dorm room, the dormitory and my best friends rooms
I made slight tweaks to the design of the dormitory, the rooms are a bit bigger and it isn't just green and yellow ew. Also the class rooms in the UA building have big ass windows to the left, the tables can fit 2-3 students and the rooms aren't a cold blue hue anymore.
My room is perfectly customised to my personality, my likes, my needs and all that stuff. I've got my entire pinterest closet in my wardrobe, my makeup, my trinkets and my gadgets on my tables and shelves. The walls are decorated in anime, game and movie posters, drawings and sketches of my gadget plans and polaroid pictures of my family, friends and classmates. My room has a colour pallet of pinks, burgundys and cream with dimly lit off white and orange accent lights. It's very homly, very comforting.
I also have a mini fridge, a ceiling fan and a two screen computer in my room. Each floor has bathrooms and shower rooms of their own. I'm on the same level as Momo, Ochaco, Kirishima and Katsuki. My most visited rooms are Uraraka's, Mina's Katsuki's, Deku's and Kirishima's. I like to welcome myself and relax on their beds. Sometimes I bicker, most times I gossip with them and actually more than most times, they visit me more than I do them. I can't wait to casually hang out with them, go out to eat, go on trips with them, especially since I'm part of "Baku squad"
And btw he dormitory has robot maids and floor cleaners that do most of the cleaning around the building, including the washing in the kitchen.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| The FOOOOOOD
See we've got some bomb ass cooks in our class already, me being one of them ironically enough. But we are actually allowed to order takeaway to the dorms. The house rules are that you shouldn't order food past curfew but most of the time, Aizawa doesn't notice so I do it anyway.
There is also a shopping center close to campus and some convenience stores with my fave foods and stuff I've always wanted to try like tteokbokki, pho, seafood boil, ramen stew all that good stuff🫠🫠
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing my crushes: Katsuki, Uraraka, Sero and Kirishima
Lord. I can't even say too much because I love these idiots so much UGHHHHH. I've got casual crushes of Uraraka, Sero and Kirishima but good GOD I am down bad for Katsuki.
I've scripted that me and Spikes end up together in the middle of the 3rd year but it's initiated by... ME. Yeah that's right bitch I scripted I grew a pair of balls and asked him out😝. I know it's pretty basic for an mha shifter to have cactsuki as their s/o but yall don't get him the way I do and I seriously don't care. I stood on business and pulled that bitch like my quirk was on. Period
I will admit tho Katsuki intimidates so bad but like in a good way. I love an intimidating, scary but funny, brash, stern babe. Like come here and kiss me but also don't cus ill run away.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| THE FAN EDITS, FICTION, GIFTS AND ART
Yall already know as shifters how exciting fan stuff are. Not a day goes by when Im not daydraming about the edits especially. I can't wait to see what my fans are up to, react to their edits, fanfiction, gifts and art on live stream. I scripted my fans are super creative and most of them ship me with people I actually like🤭🤭
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Going patrolling with my bbygirls
I'm so excited to use my quirk in action especially when I've already had my quirk awakening. I scripted I can formulate and act out plans perfectly and quickly. I also scripted most patrols are fun, relaxing, exciting or interesting. I'm always learning something new, meeting new people, going new places and growing bonds with my team mates.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Streaming and being featured on popular streams
One of my hobbies is streaming/vlogging/blogging. I have been recording my experiences as a student in UA and a hero since the beginning and I've got a big following that catch up with me every now and then. I use two different cameras; a high quality one and an early 2000s digital hand cam to make it look like I'm in 2006. I do a lot of eat with mes, I gossip, I do study with mes I draw and anime a lot and I also do gaming as well because I am the biggest game geek.
I'm also pretty siked to appear on popular Streamer lives like kai cenat and Speed. The interviewers are going to be so entertaining since I'm just a British girl talking about my experiences as a British student in Japan and the amount of culture shocks ive gotten.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing me in Horikoshi's art
Fun thing I scripted. Horikoshi made a manga of class 1A which is literally MHA but I'm in it this time. Idk how this is going to work but I thought this would be sick.
Speaking of art I am an artist in my dr too. I've got stacks apon stacks of notebooks filled with me and my friends, even my hw has little doodles in the corner. I'm very excited to draw my friends, myself, my favourite medias in my many art styles onto tiktok and tumblr and they actually get views😩.
ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Exploring Japan
And lastly exploring Japan has been one of my biggest dreams since forever. To explore the country with my favourite friends or just by myself in the day or night is a dream come true. The peaceful nature of it all motivates me to go walking every now and then. It is such a beautiful place.
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theyhavetakenovermylife · 8 months ago
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I’m cackling at the idea of the bayverse boys going through the “baby’s first swear” moment 
Since the kiddos live in the sewer and all the turtles don’t seem like the type to swear around their kids (maybe Raph if especially angry) they would prolly end up learning it from Vern or Casey. 
Like just imagine any of the guys chilling with their kids, and then their little toddler son/daughter knocks over their juice cup and they just go “Shit” in their lil innocent kid voice with a grumpy pout, meanwhile their dads have snapped a wide eyed stare to them cuz WHERE did you hear that word?!- 
Obvs Leo would probably be the one who hates swearing the most and would be pretty angry in the moment but how would they all handle the aftermath? Like would they implement something sorta like a swear jar system? Would they just give their kids a warning? Interrogate their family to find out who taught their kid to swear?? The chaos that would follow sounds hilarious!
Your Kids’ First Swear Word (Fluff/Crack)
Children Series
Bayverse!Turtles x reader
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A/N: I am Danish, and in Denmark, cursing is an important part of our culture. No beeping out curse words here! We say the shit fucking proud and fucking loud!🗣🇩🇰 Sure, we tell children that it’s bad, but we don’t care too much. Remember, the Danish versions of TMNT 1987 and 2003 had the turtles cursing. I learned a specific word for retard, because Shredder kept using it on Bebop and Rocksteady😂 But the turtles are American, and that is different, so here you go. Hope you’ll enjoy💚
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Warnings: Cursing lol.
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Leonardo:
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Romeo is 10, Marcello is 7, Gerardo is 4.
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The children always loved when uncle Vern, uncle Casey and aunt April came to visit in the lair. Other than their mother and aunts, these were the only human connections the kids had.
Funnily enough, the children took a strong liking to Vern, always hanging around him whenever he came to visit, which was way less than Casey and April. But why did the kids like Vern so much? Maybe it was his strong reaction of confusion and slight annoyance when one of them came running, wanting some sort of attention from him. Especially Marcello, who found that if he tugged enough at Vern, the human would start muttering all sorts of strange words under his breath, almost like he was spitting them in the boy's direction.
The other kids took notice of this as well, especially Gerardo who started taking on his older brother’s habit of bugging Vern whenever he was around, just to hear the strange words that he would mumble. Words that Gerardo found absolutely hilarious, and would save in his memory for a lifetime. Because then he learned what those words meant… or sorta.
Vern, Casey and April was once again visiting the lair, coming to eat dinner with the large underground family. In these cases they all ate together in the living area, at a bunch of tables, all lined out in one liner continuation. It was here, in the middle of conversations and laughter, that Gerardo suddenly perked up out of nowhere, in a way that only made sense for a child his age.
“Uncle Vern taught me a word!”, he said proudly to you and Leo, as he suddenly remembered one of the words Vern had said last time he visited, kicking his feet under the table in excitement.
“And what is that word?”, you asked smiling, eyeing Marcello as he poured up a glass of water for Romeo, no indication in the slightest for what was about to come out of your sons mouth.
“Shitling!”, Gerardo yelled out proudly.
Silence fell over all the adults at the table, all while the children kept talking and yapping. You and Leo made wide eyed eye contact, before slowly turning your attention to Vern, who sat frozen with his fork halfway into his mouth.
Needless to say, but from that day, Vern really had to restrain his vocabulary whenever he was around the kids.
Raphael:
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Joan is 11, Minerva is 7, Ragnar is 4.
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With your husband’s foul mouth, one would not be blamed for believing that Raph had been living his whole life on a ship out in the big open ocean, instead of in the sewers below New York City. It had long gotten Raph into trouble with his own father, often being the reason he would find himself in the hashish. Yet he never seemed to learn from his punishments.
Even as you and Raph got together, his foul mouth would be going. Never because of you, no no, never you. You could never do anything wrong in Raph’s eyes. No, Raph would curse at pretty much anything else. His brothers annoyed him - curse. He was angry and needed to get his frustrations out with a good work out - curse. He accidentally burned himself when cooking - curse. He watched a game and either something good or something bad happened - curse. Raph was in a good mood, and he wanted to let you know just how happy he was - sweet words with curses for emphasis. In order words, cursing was just a part of Raphael’s natural vocabulary.
But when you and Raph started having children, your husband was forced to keep his colorful words for himself, only letting his curses fly when none of them was around, usually when they were in bed. But somehow, even when he kept a careful eye on who was around, your children managed to catch a few of those words.
It was just like any other day in the lair. Your children was playing in the living area, Minerva and Ragnar’s laughter ringing out loud from the couch while Joan watched them from the armchair, making sure that her little brother and little sister wouldn’t accidentally knock each other out in their little play fight. You and Raph sat just a small distance away, seeing your kids jump around, ready to intervene should something happen, when all of a sudden-.
“Asshole!”, Mini yelled out loud, causing her and Ragnar to laugh even louder.
You and Raph sat up straight, eyes wide in shock, not fully able to believe what you had just heard, when Ragnar piped up.
“Fuck face!”, he yelled, making Mini fall over on the couch, holding her stomach in laughter, almost falling off and onto the floor below. Ragnar, continuing the game he and his sister had going, stood up on the couch, his little form looking so adorable as he tried to square up. “Shit maggot!”
For a solid five minutes you and Raph sat in absolute shock, still processing what the two youngest of your angels had just blurted out. That was when Joan turned calmly towards the two of you, shrugging her shoulders.
“If you think this is bad, you should hear them when you’re not around”, she said, before turning her attention back on her siblings’ play fight.
After this you and Raph started keeping a sharp eye on your children’s vocabulary, and started cracking down harder on Raph’s own use of words.
Donatello:
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Galileo is 12, Dorothy and Marie are 7.
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For a long time, you and Donnie had had problems with Marie’s tendency to suddenly blurt out things. You could be sitting at the dining table with family and friends over, when Marie would all of a sudden turn towards Vern and ask; “why do you look like that?”
Vern would in turn look at Marie a little confused and ask; “look like what?”
“Like that”, Marie said, pointing at his face. “Ugly”.
Casey almost choked on his drink, and even Splinter fought not to smile. And it would have been slightly adorable, if it wasn’t for the fact that she did this quite often.
Marie didn’t say these things to be hurtful, no, she said these things because she was honest and curious. She never thought that the things that she said could be considered mean. She just wanted to know, and just like she had been taught; if you wanted to know something you would have to ask. That was something Donnie had taught her and her siblings, but never had he thought that it would lead to Marie being so blunt. So blunt that sometimes even her siblings were shocked.
But one this was being blunt, asking out of the blue questions that would take people aback, but never had Marie cursed. But that changed fast one day.
You, Donnie and your children were sitting in the kitchen, eating your breakfast together, talking about whatever things families would talk about in the mornings. Dorothy was telling Donnie about her big plans for the day, aka, dress up, while Galileo told you about a new video game he wanted to play soon, when suddenly Marie perked up with a question that had been playing on her mind.
“Dad?”, she asked, leaving the spoon in her cereal.
“Yes, sweetheart. What is it?”, Donnie asked, happy to see that Marie was at least asking permission to ask a question, instead of just blurting it out in the open.
“There’s a word I don’t understand. Do you know it?”
“What word is it?”
“It’s actually more than one word”, Marie said.
“Is that so?”, Donnie asked. “What are they?”
“Shut the fuck up, shit face”, Marie said, looking up to the side, as if she was trying to remember the exact words as she spoke.
You and Donnie were shocked, staring at her with wide eyes. Dorothy was confused, looking back and forth between her parents and her sister. But not Gali. Instead he gasped, looking offended.
“I told you to get out when I was playing that video game!”, he gasped. “You snuck back in?!”
“You didn’t lock the door”, Marie shrugged, continuing to eat her cereal while you and Donnie was still trying to process what just happened.
Michelangelo:
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Sunny is 4, Luis is around 1.
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Your dear, sweet little bundle of sunshine, Sunny, was at that period of her life, where she would push boundaries, and say all the words she heard around her, just to get a reaction out of her family members, sometimes even yelling instead of actually speaking. She had also recently had her first real temper tantrum, which, thankfully was rare for Sunny, but sadly not the last to come in the next few years.
Sunny had recently taken to asking you or Mikey for food, only to bring it to the couch, and eat and play with it, causing her to spill everywhere, which you and Mikey obviously wasn’t too happy about, causing you and your husband to put in all efforts to get rid of her habit. That even meant that Mikey could no longer bring snacks to the couch, as that would totally undermine all that the two of you had been working for.
But that didn’t stop Sunny from trying, often ending in failure, which resulted in her first temper tantrum, screaming over the fact that she wasn’t allowed to bring her dino nuggets to the couch, but would have to eat them at a table. That didn’t fly by Sunny, what so ever, causing her to scream and cry for two whole hours, making Luis just as fussy by the sound. Oh, it was exhausting.
But that still didn’t stop Sunny from trying. No, in fact it made her attempts more elaborate, sometimes even taking you and Mikey by surprise.
It soon became a matter of principle for Sunny. It was no longer about her getting to eat on the couch, but simply the act of bringing food to the couch without you and Mikey noticing it. Chips from the cupboard, a pizza slice, a handful of popcorn and one time even a frozen chicken. But soon, Sunny came up with what she considered a genius idea - a cup of juice. If she could bring that to the couch, she would have won the battle. And so, Sunny asked you for a cup of juice while sitting at the dining table, drinking half of the cup, before slowly sliding off her chair, making her way toward the living area with her small cup of juice in her hands.
Here Mikey was sitting in the armchair, bottle feeding Luis. That was perfect for Sunny. With her father’s attention grabbed by her baby brother, there was nothing that could stop her. And so, she quickly and silently made her way towards the couch, her half filled juice cup in her hands.
Once at the couch, she placed the cup on the soft couch cushion, letting it whopple when she then began to climb up on the same cushion, when the cup suddenly tumbled over, spilling juice all over the couch. The exact thing her parents didn’t want to happen. And that was when a word graced Sunny’s lips. A word she had never used before, yet she had heard it being spoken around the lair in situations like this.
“Shit”.
That was when she caught the attention of Mikey, who stood from the armchair, still with Luis in his arms, seeing the mess Sunny had made, her small curse still ringing in his ear.
After that day, Sunny was no longer allowed to bring food into the living area, with each curse word he said from that day forward, resulting in a week without dino nuggets.
239 notes · View notes
lunaraindrop · 8 months ago
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We Are Not the Kissing Space Twins (part 2)
Fic by lunaraindrop
Well, you asked for it! Let's find out about Steve's secret twin!
The red numbers mocked her as her digital clock blinked over to 4:27 pm.
Robin's nerves were frazzled like the feather on her band uniform.
Tonight was supposed to be a fun night! Vickie had asked her last week if she wanted to come over to her house and have a movie marathon...and a sleepover. Of course she jumped at the chance! (Steve had said, excitedly and with way too many winks that Vickie was putting the moves on her.)
Robin had not known if it was a "friend movie marathon" or a "i-like-you-makeout movie marathon", but she had prepared for both.
But then Vickie called her earlier that afternoon to postpone. Apparently, her entire family got a stomach bug, and their house was a cesspool for germs.
Bummed, Robin tried to think of something else to do.
Hanging with Steve was out. His parents decided to grace him with their *lovely* presence after four months away on "business." They insisted on having a "family dinner." Steve always gets ultra stressed when he has to do the staunchy dinners in The Harrington Dining Room with the real silver, cloth napkins, and the Fine China that cost probably as much as his car. Telling him that her "maybe date" was off was just going to disappoint him too.
Eddie wasn't going to be any fun, either. All Eddie would do would be pine over Steve, try to sneak in a smoke, and eat whipped cream out of a can.
Nancy was spending the day with Jonathan. The kids made sure they all had things to do because Steve couldn't take them anywhere.
Then she had what she thought was a great idea. She could get her learner's permit! She had studied the written test bookelett front to back, as well as gone over all the driving rules and tricks with Steve and Eddie.
She wasn't working that day, and she was completely free. Perfect timing! All she had to do was get her birth certificate.
Which...proved to be harder than she thought.
Robin paced her bedroom, probably wearing a path in the carpet.
She never caught on that her parents were reluctant to give her her birth certificate. When she would suggest getting her permit or license, they would talk about how they couldn't afford to have her driving. A car and insurance cost a lot of money. Then they would guilt trip her into not driving at all with fears of her getting into an accident. She never knew her name, but that was how she was told her bio mom died.
She would always let it go when they talked about the "angel that gave them their precious baby girl."
But she knew now that they were hiding something from her!
When she pressed until they gave in, she saw what on her birth certificate. She felt so betrayed! How could they lie to her like that?
The taunting clock on her nightstand changed to 4:30. The DMV was now closed. Not that it even mattered!
She couldn't take it anymore! Robin picked up the phone.
"Hey, Nancy? I hate to ask, but could you and Jonathan come pick me up? I really need a friend right now."
---
In the Byers-Hopper living room, Nancy blinked up at Robin. "So, you are actually a year *older* than you thought you were?"
Robin threw her hand in the air. "Yes! And they didn't tell me! Evidently, it wasn't just that I took longer than the rest of the babies to walk! Oh no, I was in the NICU for *months*! I was so far behind in my milestones that my parents decided to just tell me I was a year younger and enroll me in school a year later than everyone else!"
Jonathan dodged a flailing arm and handed Robin a cup of tea. "Here, sit down and drink this. It's my mom's chamomile. I think you need it."
Taking a breath, Robin nodded her thanks and took a sip. Then made a face. "This tastes like laundry detergent and bourbon."
Jonathan shrugged with a small smirk. "I said it's my mom's."
Nancy went into investigation mode. "Okay, so your parents adopted you three days after you were born. Closed adoption. Your biological mother died, and no information about your biological fatherm. Instead of 1968, you were adopted in 1967."
Carefully putting the mug down on a magazine on the table, Robin ran her fingers through her hair. "Me being adopted is old news, Nancy. I've known I was my parents 'miracle baby' since I was able to walk...which I don't know when that is now! Was it *actually* six months after most kids, or *a year and six months* after most kids?!?"
Nancy waved her hand to cut Robin off. "Robin! I understand. I'm just trying to understand how nobody knew this information."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "About Robin being adopted?"
Nancy sighed. "No, about how Robin could go through the whole school system and sign government NDA's without getting flagged that her birthday was wrong. I'm wondering if her adoption records say something else."
She got up to grab a notepad and started scribbling. "The information given to the Buckley's, if they can believed- sorry Robin- is that the adoption was a closed adoption. Having records sealed makes sense, but not a closed adoption. There was no father, according to Robin's parents. Just her biological mother. Who died in a car accident. So...who made sure it was a closed adoption? Who isn't supposed to be contacted? Does that have anything to do with the year change?"
Jonathan got up and pulled out his wallet. "Robin, you've never had a physical ID, right?" He showed off his own driver's license with his awful bowl cut hair picture.
"No. I haven't even had a permit yet. At nineteen! I'm so far behind!"
Jonathan nodded and looked to Nancy to continue. When she nodded back, he handed Robin his license. "If you've never had an ID, the only time you would see your birthday written anywhere would either be at school or by your parents." He turned to Nancy. "If her school records say she was born in 1967, then they knew she was a year older, but didn’t say anything... If they filled out her forms saying 1968, then they lied to the Roane County Board of Education, and they didn't check her birth certificate."
Nancy pointed a pencil at Robin. "You might have accidentally uncovered a hidden adoption scheme in Hawkins."
Robin flexed her fingers. "That's nice, you guys. Really nice. I may be a part of some big adoption conspiracy. But the fact remains, I'm a year older than I ever thought I was, and my parents lied to me about it."
Nancy and Jonathan both flinched.
Right. Comfort Robin now, investigate later.
Nancy walked over and stilitingly pat Robin’s shoulder. She wracked her brain for something to cheer the woman up.
"Well, you and Steve can actually pretend to be twins, now! Your birthdays are now only three days apart!
Part 1 here:
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visceravalentines · 1 year ago
Text
fever dream
Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader
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7.6k words. dubcon ofc. reader is absolutely mentally bankrupt. stockholm is where we live, it's where we are, it's where we'll die. sporadic smut, pnv, fingering, and oral (fem!rec). blood and sweat everywhere. Bo calls reader a bitch a couple times but like, it's out of love or some shit. somno. alcohol use. nightmares. ghosts. swamp things. the ever-looming threat of death and depersonalization.
welcome back to my youtube channel. I have been. working on this fic. since May of last year. and it's finally done(?) it is long and weird and maybe bad and meant for you to get lost in. a journey with no destination. a haunted house only you are the haunted and the haunt and the house. tbqh I'm rewatching HoW today for the first time in months and months and I had to get this out of my drafts so I can check back into the sanitarium with minimal baggage, y'know?? I hope it makes you feel some type of way.
The summer heat is in your blood and the swamp is in your lungs and he is under your skin. 
You’ve never known an August like this, like a blister. You go to bed sticky and wake up drenched in sweat. The ceiling fan is a hurricane agent that offers no respite, just blows the humidity in vicious cycles. There’s no air conditioning in the house; it’s too old. Instead you wrap ice cubes in dish towels and press them to the back of your neck. 
A storm’s been hanging on the horizon for days. Thunder rolls out of a wall of iron gray, an idle threat. The air is soupy and super-charged. No rain comes. 
The nights are delirium. You go to bed on opposite sides of the mattress, oil and water. He sleeps naked, sprawled out like a water skeeter. The quilt sits scrunched at the foot of the bed for the season and he kicks the sheets off around midnight like something forcing its way out of a soft-shelled egg. 
You lie awake, listening to the cicadas and waiting. Just when you’ve started to cool down and drift off he reaches over and fumbles at your leg, grabs your arm. He pulls you on top of him, hands on your body beneath his old t-shirt. You ride him with your eyes closed and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever, the sweating, the shaking. 
You wake every morning suffocating under his arm in the center of the mattress with honey between your thighs. 
.
He drinks his coffee hot even though the steam can barely rise above the rim of the mug in the humidity. You pour yours over ice and savor the feeling as it seeps down your throat and into your stomach. You curl your toes on the linoleum and almost smile at him across the table. He’s golden from all his time in the sun. You can trace the lines of his wifebeater over his shoulders, across his chest. You stare at him across the table and think about the taste of his skin. You want to run your tongue along that tan line. 
He catches you staring. “What?” he says flatly. 
You redirect your gaze to your hands. Shake your head. Wait for him to move on so you can resume your perusal of his body.
When he looks away, out the window, the sun catches those eyes and turns them to sea glass. He needs a haircut; walnut curls crest over his ears like kudzu. When you get up to clear the table your skin peels from the vinyl seat cushion with a sting that makes you wrinkle your nose. 
“Be good,” he tells you before he leaves. You wonder what he means, what he thinks you might get up to in this house full of dust and guns and ghosts. You know better than to ask, and you nod and kiss him goodbye and feel his lips on your lips for hours afterwards. 
The day languishes. They all do. You kill a thousand flies. You mop the floor and track your own footprints across it before it dries. You hang his shirts on the clothesline in the side yard and feel like an insect trapped in the sap of time. You shave your legs in a cold bath and examine your skin:  sunburn, bug bites, bite marks. 
When he pulls into the driveway you’re on the front step eating a popsicle and counting the minutes. He saunters across the gravel like John Wayne, shoulders exposed, hair plastered to his neck. You meet his eyes and wrap your lips around the cherry-flavored mess dripping onto your fingers. He spits into the weeds and eyes you through his lashes. 
“What’s for supper?” 
You suck on your sticky thumb. There’s a full spread on the dining room table, ready and waiting. “Whatever you want.” 
He licks his lips. 
Supper gets cold. 
.
He brings home a bag of saltwater taffy, all raspberry. 
“Thought of you,” he says when he hands it to you. To your recollection, you have never mentioned taffy or raspberries or anything of the sort. You wonder who he thinks you are, whether he has you confused with someone else. 
You sit on the porch steps and amass a pile of wax paper wrappers beside you. It’s soft and melty, peels out of the wrapper with a sticky crackling sound. It’s salty and sour and tastes like cheap sugar. Like a memory of summer that may be real, or maybe not. Could be yours, or could be someone else’s.
You eat more than you want, until your teeth hurt and you can feel the hot spot on your tongue where a canker sore will form. You rake that spot back and forth across your incisors. You can’t help it. Sometimes it feels like things have to have a hurt to them. 
“You ever been to the fair?” you ask him over your shoulder.
He grunts from the porch swing. “Used to go when Vince ‘n me were little. Took Les a couple times when he was old enough.”
“You ever take a girl?”
“Nah.” His boot thumps on the porch, an offhand punctuation mark. “Couldn’t find one to go with me.”
You doubt that; you’ve seen his yearbook photos. But then again, maybe he was off-putting as a teenager. Spooky. Hadn’t quite learned how to camouflage yet. Came on too strong, wore too much cologne, used too many teeth.
You survey the vast swath of woods that surrounds Ambrose and try to imagine a ferris wheel, red and blue and blinking, rising from the green like the hump of a whale.  “I’d go with you.”
He snorts. “Yeah?”
You look down at the piece of taffy in your fingers. You don’t really want it. You unwrap it anyway. “Yeah.” You gnaw on the candy like a dog savoring a scrap. “Be like a date,” you say thickly.
“What, you wanna skip down the midway holdin’ hands? Makin’ out in the Tunnel of Love?”
You can picture it, sunset and a sundress. He’s laughing. You’re laughing. The crowd is made of wax. “You could win me a stuffed animal.”
He scoffs again, but then he asks you, “What kinda stuffed animal you want?”
You think for a second, unstick the taffy from your molars and push it around your mouth with your tongue. “A Louisiana crocodile.” A souvenir from your time in the South. Maybe it’ll be wearing a little trucker hat and a smile that doesn’t reach its eyes.
“Ain’t got crocodiles here, sugar. ‘S all alligators.”
“Fine, an alligator then.”
You run your hands over your shins, sticky with the humidity. The chains of the porch swing creak rhythmically behind you. The sea of trees is dark and still and endless.
“Fair don’t come ‘round here anymore,” he says finally.
You force the taffy down your throat, swallow hard, and reach for another one.
“Figures.”
.
You’re buzzed and reckless, sucked down a pair of beers too fast just because they were frosty. The shears snick like some needy, nipping thing. You found them upstairs under the bathroom sink once upon a time and you always put them back when you’re done. They’ve been there longer than you’ve been alive. You comb your fingers across his scalp and loose locks drift onto your clean floor. 
“Don’t take it too short,” he admonishes into the mouth of his beer bottle. “You butcher me, I butcher you.” 
You roll your eyes behind his back. “Have I ever?” 
He grunts in acquiescence. That’s as close to a win as you’ll get. 
The windows are open; the thunder presses against the frayed screens. A gigantic moth flings its feathery body repeatedly at the ceiling light. You run your hand through his hair slow just to feel it between your fingers, thick and soft. Your thumb glances off the scar on the left side of his skull and comes back for another pass. 
He jerks his head, puts a stop to that. “You done?” 
“Almost.” 
You’re particularly fond of the curls at the nape of his neck, always save them for last. You coil one around your finger. You want to ask him if you can keep it, but you’re afraid he’ll say no or worse, that he’ll say yes. He’ll ask for something in return. You’ll give it to him, no matter what it is. You give him anything he wants, everything he wants. It’s the least you can do, the most you can do. 
You snip them one by one, bittersweet. 
“Done.” 
He leans over in the chair to examine his reflection in the window. “Good enough.” 
He stands up and drains the dregs of his beer. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in and you bend like a reed, peering up at him, inspecting your work. He smells like sweat and sun. You grip his shirt in your fists and move with him as he sways lazily side-to-side. 
He gives you the gift of a smile, half-cocked and handsome. “You wanna dance, mama?”
Your fingers spider-creep up the shield of his chest and lock behind his neck. His skin is hot and sticky against your wrists, clipped hairs poking and itching. Your hips bump against his like a car on a back road, lost, no cell service. You wish there was music playing. 
He tilts his head towards you and you get caught in the trap of his mouth. The thunder moans. You can feel the sweat beading on your upper lip, in the pit of your elbows. His hands are heavy on your bones. 
His jaw scrapes along your temple like a razor blade and a fever chill rolls over your skin, hot-cold. “G’on upstairs, get those clothes off.” 
Have you always been such a good listener? 
.
He comes home drunk and fucks you on the table, in the midst of supper left cold and waiting for him. You knew he’d be hungry. You are right about some things and wrong about others.
You wince every time a dish topples off the table and shatters on the faded linoleum. He doesn't look at you, not once.
Afterwards, he disappears for a while and leaves you to clean up the kitchen. You are dazed, legs unsteady, leaning on the counter like an old friend. It’s been a bad day. Dinner has soaked through the back of your shirt and so you take it off, hang it over the back of a chair for later, and set to work on the mess.
You cannot puzzle out how he managed to get blood on every dish you are trying to wash until finally you realize it is yours, seeping quietly from a slice on your palm. When he comes up behind you your spine stiffens, arching like a snake making a final stand. He puts his hands on your bare waist and his lips against the back of your head like a sweetheart, like a husband, like a different person.
“Leave it, darlin’. Come sit on the porch with me.”
You bite your lip, lift your palm so he can see it, watch the world blur with saline. “I cut myself,” you say, and only then does the sting set in, so sharp you can feel it in your teeth.
He makes a sympathetic noise and cups your hand in his. “Now why’d y’go and do that?”
You open your mouth to answer but only a moan comes out as he lifts your arm and seals his lips over the cut. He sucks, gently at first and then harder, hard enough you feel the seam of skin separate and your fingers jerk like puppets to the pain. He lets you go and you cradle your hand to your chest as he laps your blood off his lip.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, takes your arm, tugs you from the sink. “C’mon. I need a smoke.”
You follow him onto the porch, curl up in his lap with a dishrag pressed to your palm and watch smoke and moths float around the light.
Your blood dries on the dishes with the gravy.
.
The clouds boom a reminder that they are still hanging above the house, but you are already awake in the split second beforehand. You are cocooned in the sheets and panic for a moment, arms pinned to your chest, bedroom black as a coffin. When you claw free, gasping, the air is like moss draped spongey and damp across your face. 
You worm out of the bed, out of the room, stagger into the hallway and down the stairs in the dark. You are mere steps ahead of some emaciated beast, its breath muggy on your cheeks and the back of your neck. You twist your shirt off and throw it on the floor of the den before it can strangle you, wrench the front door open and slam through the screen with both hands. 
The night is wet in your nose. One hundred million insects scream to God. In the back of your mind you think about joining them. Your toes scuff to a stop on the precipice of the porch and you peer into the darkness with round eyes, bare chest heaving for more air than you can hold. You are drowning here, surrounded by trees, surrounded by more green than you ever knew existed in the world. 
Somewhere out there, someone is mourning you. You can feel it tonight, crackling in the ozone like the storm that won’t break. 
You wrap your arms around yourself and sink to the ground, sit perched on the top stair in your panties and sweat-drenched skin. The nail of your index finger rips apart the cuticle of your thumb. Mosquitos float open-armed to your legs like swamp angels. It’s too hot to cry. 
The yellow porchlight struggles to life. The screen door bangs flatly behind you. He can’t ever pick up his feet, scuffing through the dust you haven’t swept. 
His fingers brush the bone of your shoulder. You don’t flinch nowadays, usually. “Y’alright?”
You don’t have to answer that. Let him wrap his hand around your throat and fishhook his fingers into your mouth to pull your jaw open, you don’t have to answer that. You grit your teeth and dig crescent moons into your thighs with all ten fingernails.
Your silence doesn’t bother him. He leans on the railing to your left, curling his toes on the concrete, looking out into the night. Sleep has mussed his hair to one side and left imprints of the sheet fanning across his chest. There’s a hickey in the shape of your mouth in the curve of his neck. Lightning flutters shy among the clouds and the thunder reprimands it. There’s something stuck in your throat, something you can’t swallow down no matter how hard you try. Moths flock to the porchlight. If anyone was alive in the town to look up the hill, they’d see you haloed, and him too. 
“‘S late. Come back to bed.”
You can’t remember your home address. You can picture the house, the sidewalk in front of it, cracks in the driveway. The rest is like a dream. The house behind you doesn’t have an address. No number, no mailbox. You can feel it sucking at the base of your spine like a leech, coaxing you in, tipping you backwards all wrong like a gravity hill. You feel eyes on you, all the time, no matter what room you’re in. 
“You listenin’ to me? Let’s go.”
You can’t go back inside. You can’t go back inside. Something in you doesn’t line up right. Someone is holding a pillow over your face.
“No,” you think you say out loud. The word flutters off into the night. You watch a mosquito drift beyond the reach of the porchlight and disappear. The stars bow gracefully into the arms of the clouds. 
After a beat, he shuffles out of your periphery. The screen door slams. Maybe this time. When you least expect it. Maybe he's sick of you at last. You pick at a scab on your knee until it comes loose and flakes off, and then you pinch the skin around the wound and squeeze until a bead of blood, scarlet-black, mounds and breaks and gets all over your fingers. You raise them to your mouth and suck them clean and it tastes familiar. Safe. 
He doesn’t come back with a knife, or a gun. He comes back with the quilt and sheet from the bed, a pillow stuffed under his arm. He unfurls the quilt on the porch. The pillow flops to the ground like something hunted to extinction. He follows suit. 
“C’mere.” He wrestles with the sheet, props himself up on an elbow and punches the pillow into place. “C’mon.” 
You breathe, just for a minute, watching him. You want to hate him so bad it hurts. You want him to hit you so you’d have a reason to hit back. You want to fight for your life because you can feel it slipping away, waning, evaporating in the heat. Already you’ve found shreds of yourself under the couch, covered in dust. You are drowning. You are thirsty. He is water, cold and brackish. 
You rise from the stairs and come to him because you need him, because he is all you have. 
“Get the light,” he says. 
You go and come back and his hand finds your calf in the dark, slides up the back of your knee, guides you to the ground. The quilt is a mockery of softness, the porch unyielding beneath. You curl up with him at your back and he folds his arm around you, thumb worrying aimlessly at your nipple. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck. 
The air roils in your lungs. The night surges in. You are alone, so alone, aching with loneliness, now and always. You close your fingers around his wrist and guide his hand between your legs. He rubs the cotton of your panties with something like pity and you let a moan seep from your throat. 
Your face lolls into the pillow and it smells like fever dreams and cold-sweat nightmares. The fabric of your underwear catches on your clit and you gasp, arching against his chest.
“Easy,” he murmurs as his fingers drag back and forth. He hooks his foot around your ankle, forces your legs open. You asked for this. You’ll take it and thank him. 
Lightning silhouettes the world beyond the porch in black and purple. When you close your eyes, you see the rooftops of the town in the colors of heaven. You rock against his hand and pretend you’re someone else somewhere else. You feel the thunder in your teeth and wish with all your heart the rain would fall. 
He puts an abrupt end to the friction and cups you in his palm, wide and warm. You make a plaintive sound and wiggle your hips, push your ass against him. You need to feel something. You need him to help you. Otherwise, you might disappear beneath the horrible blanket of the night. 
“Please,” you moan. 
He presses his lips to the back of your neck, whispers into the shell of your ear like a lover. “You love me?” 
You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes.” 
His teeth graze your skin as he slips his fingers past the waistband of your panties. 
“Good.” 
You wonder if he knows he keeps saving your life. 
.
The house is a midden of family misery. There’s barely space for you between heaps of clothing and glassware and mass market paperbacks. You live sideways amid the boxes and bottles and beer cans. He refuses to let you throw anything away. No matter how much you sweep and dust and tidy, the clutter seems to crawl right back across the carpet like morning glory. 
Late morning finds you in the master bedroom. It’s sweltering up here. The air sticks to your face like tattered gauze. The junk in here is of a particular breed, more meaningful—photo albums, baby clothes. Much of it has been stacked high just inside the door like a battlement. A fortification between this room and the rest of the house. You’re not allowed in here. 
Neither is he. 
Beyond the wall, everything sits untouched. A layer of dust rests primly on the bedside tables, the vanity, the yellow quilt still neatly made up on the bed. The art on the wall is sun-bleached in evenly spaced lines from the half-open blinds. The silence crowds your ears. It feels like standing in a tomb, the family crypt. 
With courage paper-thin, you've decided you'd like to confront the heart of the horror. Like shoving your fingers down the throat of the beast trying to bite you. Like making a home in its mouth, a bed in its bed. You want to eat me so bad, you’ll have to savor every scrap. 
It’s eerie in here. This room is brighter than the rest of the house by far. You can feel that parasitic presence all around you, cajoling you with hands that are soft and dry. There is a faint, floating smell of faded flowers. You breathe slowly to keep yourself from sprinting back downstairs.
You gaze at yourself in the vanity mirror. The dust almost erases you from sight, almost. You reach a finger out and draw a single streak across the silvery surface. You’re in there, somewhere. Sometimes you forget. 
The front of the vanity holds a trio of slim drawers with tiny gold handles. You catch one with the tips of your fingers and tug, just slightly. It creeps open without resistance. The inside is lined with green velvet. You pull it open all the way and search through the contents with your eyes. Blush, lipstick. Eyeshadow in seven shades of blue. You slide the drawer closed and move on to the next one, the widest one in the middle. 
This one holds a treasure trove of golden baubles:  a jumble of earrings, half a dozen hairpins, a long, thin cigarette holder. A string of pearls that look too chipped and dull to be real. And a locket, oval-shaped and decorated with a halo of tiny vines. You pick it up and the chain slips over your fingers like a thin, shining snake. 
You dig your nail into the seam and pop it open. To your muted disappointment, it is empty. No husband. No children. 
It’s yours, you decide suddenly. You want it. You've earned it. A prize, a consolation for the hell you’ve been through. For the fact that you have survived him, and she has not. You wonder if he’ll recognize it. Part of you hopes that he does. You imagine the look on his face and his hands on you afterwards. Your mouth is wet. 
This might be her house, will always be her house. But you do not belong to her. You have been spoken for again and again, and perhaps you should thank him for that. 
In the daylight you remember that you aren’t scared of ghosts, and that you have nothing left to give. Plenty of dead women have laid claim to you already. This one cannot have you, and for that matter, she can’t have him either. 
You hear the rumble of his truck out front and the thrill of fear that shoots down your spine is so cold it’s almost welcome in the stuffy room. You shove the locket into the pocket of your shorts and fling the drawer shut. It closes with a soft, complicit thunk. 
You pick your way back through the boxes and slip through the door like a reptile into water; smooth, silent. You make sure it latches behind you before you hurry to the top of the stairs. 
Out of the corner of your eye, just before you dip out of sight below the banister, you see something bend the light that reaches through the crack beneath the door. You freeze, turn your head only slightly. You see nothing. Only sunlight. Certainly no feet, dainty and bare, padding across the carpet with red-lacquered toenails. 
Panic, delayed, breaks loose. You gallop down the stairs so quickly you forget to skip the ones that creak. 
By the time he comes inside, slamming the door fit to shake the frame of the house, you are hunched over the dishes in the sink like you’ve been there all morning. If you are unduly quiet, he doesn’t seem to notice, and if he notices, he doesn’t seem to care. 
.
“I think I love you.”
You say it half-casual, half-pronouncement, the way you might tell your mom you’re dropping out of college. Tell your boyfriend you’re over him. Tell your boss you’re moving to Louisiana. “I mean it this time.”
Bo snorts, lifts his beer to his lips. “That so?”
You shoo a bee from the rim of your glass and suck down the last of your drink. You just might be drunk. “Yup.”
“Think that’s the bourbon talkin’.”
You roll your eyes, shimmy a little in an effort to make the busted lawn chair more comfortable. You thought he’d be more excited. “Why don’t you ever believe me?”
He smacks his lips like he’s considering his answer. The sunlight shifts through the trees and you close your eyes, blissful. “Lemme ask you this. You ever set a snare, baby?”
You can feel it in your blood:  the sun, the breeze, the brook bubbling over your toes. It’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.
“Hey.” He leans over in his chair and snaps his fingers, splintering your peace. “I asked you a question.”
“Nah. Never set a snare. Some of us were normal kids.”
He ignores this and you feel like you’ve gotten away with something. “Well, sometimes you catch a critter, but it don’t strangle to death like it’s s’posed to.” 
You frown. 
“So you gotta do somethin’ about it, right? But you gotta be real careful. Can’t get caught up by the sufferin’. Gotta keep your head about you, y’know?” He’s not looking at you, but you can picture his lips, twisted in something like a smile. “‘Cause it don’t matter what it is…raccoon, possum, bunny rabbit…that sucker’ll take your hand off if y’let it.”
Your throat is sensitive all of the sudden, feels closed off. Maybe you swallowed a bee. “What are you even talking about?”
His head lolls lazy to the left and he stares at you for a second in a way that makes your hair stand on end. Then he chuckles, winks at you, turns away and leans back in his chair. 
“Nothin’, sugar. You’re awful cute.”
.
The heat wreaks havoc on the lifeless inhabitants of the town. You trail behind him like a listless kite as he makes the rounds, checking for damage, hauling the worst afflicted home to Vincent. It baffles you how much he seems to care about them. How much investment he has in keeping the rot contained beneath a pristine cosmetic veneer. For what? For who?
You don’t tell him it’s all rot, all of it, the people, the buildings. The trees. The air. Him. You. 
Some days, most days, you can’t quite look them in their faces. It’s guilt, you suppose. Guilt and acknowledgement of a fear so pervasive you no longer notice the way it clings like a second skin. You’ve convinced yourself if you meet their eyes you’ll find them glaring at you, envious and accusatory. Or worse–you’ll see the future, suspended in the flat, glass pupils of a dead game animal.
Occasionally you punish yourself by looking too closely. You note the receding hairlines, where the skin beneath the wax has dried and pulled taut and shifted the scalp along with it. You observe the way the light shines through plump round fingertips that are only hollow shells of wax, all that soft flesh desiccated and shriveled to a skeletal wedge underneath. You wonder, sometimes, whether Vincent smoothed over any flaws–scars, moles, asymmetrical lips. You touch your face subconsciously and think about the things he might fix for you.
It makes you feel like you are tiptoeing on the precipice of sanity, arms wide, just waiting to topple.
You take a particular interest in their clothing, wonder whether it belonged to them or to someone from the town. You never ask Bo, although you know he could tell you. You ignore the obvious parallels like a badly stitched seam. None of the clothes you wear belong to you either.
There are more residents than you ever imagined, half the houses not as empty as you assumed. Ten years, three brothers, three hundred and forty-nine holes to fill. You were decent at math in a past life, but nowadays, you try your hardest not to solve problems, no matter how they howl and scratch at the door. You’ve become adept at avoidance of the obvious in favor of learning how to assimilate into the cobwebs and shadows. No one can kill you if you’re already dead. You believe that so hard sometimes you can’t see your own reflection.
You believe it so hard that when you find it, on a girl in a house on a street you’ve only been down once or twice, you can’t make sense of it for several long seconds, staring dumbstruck and stupid while the static subsumes your brain.
“Let’s go,” he barks from the sitting room. The couches are pink and floral and faded.
You cannot move. You are made of wax.
“You deaf? Come on.”
She’s wearing cutoff jeans and the t-shirt you bought on a trip two years ago, or maybe three. There’s blood, brown and faded from half-hearted washing, streaking the collar and left sleeve.
Her hair is lighter than yours, and shorter. Her feet are smaller. Her nose is bigger. But the shirt is yours, and so is the blood, and for a second, you know you are a ghost.
“Hey.” He grabs your arm and turns you around. You think maybe she’ll move, now that you’re not looking. “You got a problem?”
You cannot answer him, because you do not have a voice. Because your lips have been glued together and painted the perfect pink. His gaze flicks from you to the girl and back and you wonder if he kissed her the way he kisses you. You hope he can see it, the way you are withering under the wax. You hope he will pick you up, cradle you in his arms, take you home and take care of you, make you whole, make you human.
Isn’t that all you’ve ever asked for?
He snaps his fingers in front of your face and you flinch, because you are real after all.
“Let’s go.”
You let him push you towards the door, hear him close it behind you, feel the floorboards shiver as he follows you down the hall. He puts his hand on the small of your back and ushers you out of the house, down the sidewalk cracked and stuffed with weeds keeling over in the heat. You can feel your feet melting to the concrete, skin crawling, sagging. You try not to stumble. You don’t want him to leave you behind.
“She ain’t you,” he mutters at the end of the street, so low you barely hear him over the buzz of the cicadas.
You aren’t sure if he’s lying, now or ever. You don’t ask him where her clothes are and he doesn’t offer. She might not be you, but you might be her. And you both might be someone else.
Either way, the shape of her is burned into your vision in blue and green, and she shakes her head at you when you close your eyes.
.
You wake to the sound of rain on the roof and it pulls you immediately from bed, stumbling sightless over your feet to get to the window. You yank on the mangled cord to raise the blinds and sure enough, the dust of summer is melting down the window in waves.
“Bo,” you say hoarsely. “Bo, look.”
It is then that the silence of the room seeps into your brain, the conspicuous lack of snoring. Your heart sinks into your wringing stomach. 
In a perfect world, he’d be taking a leak. He’d stumble back to bed and wrap you in his arms, press a kiss to your temple, and you’d drift back to sleep in the bliss of air conditioning. 
Your world is a few dirt road miles south of perfect.
You have to go find him. Find him and haul him out of whatever dark place he’s waded into, before he comes back worse than he went in.
The hall is a throat you have to fight against to get to the stairs, black and humid with walls that breathe. You feel cobwebs on your face and slap them away only to realize it’s your own hair caught on your lashes. The glow of the TV laps at the bottom step like floodwater, makes the carpet undulate like something just sank below the surface. You hesitate, for just a second, before you step down and feel solid ground beneath your feet.
He sits slouched on the couch in front of a screen full of static, deadeyed, jaw clenched. He doesn’t seem to notice you, quiet, creeping thing that you are. The static sounds like rushing water. Mangroves rise from the shadows in the corner of your eye. Lilypads part around your feet. If you turn your head just right, his eyes flash red in the light.
You stop halfway between the stairs and the couch, unsure what kind of animal you’re approaching. Your hands float up like a shield, like a bridge. “Bo,” you say softly, and it echoes in the night. “Are you okay?” 
He blinks, like a person. You notice a bite mark, a purple half moon in the meat of his forearm. Your skin is well acquainted with the shape of his teeth. 
“Bo,” you whisper. You don’t want to get closer. “Come back to bed.”
You hear a splash in the kitchen. The carpet squishes between your toes. Something brushes your ankle and wriggles away. You need to get out of here. You can’t leave without him. 
“Baby…please.” You step towards him and freeze as he lurches forward, sits up straight. His hands dangle between his knees, his gaze still locked on the fuzz of the television. 
“I killed my mama, y’know.” 
His voice is pitched, low and dull. A sheen of sweat glistens on his upper lip and cheekbones. The color is gone from his face and here, in this place, he looks almost green.
You fight to form breath into words. “I…I know.”
He’s speaking again as though he didn’t hear you. You can see in his eyes he is far, far away. “I watched her die. Took a real long time. But I stayed…waited. Had to make sure.”
The water is rising, cold and slick, over your ankles and up your calves. Panic rises with it, packs into your throat like silt. “You were real brave, baby. You did it. You made sure.” Your voice is thin as a reed. 
A terrible, empty grin cracks his face and then vanishes without a ripple, and now he looks at you for the first time and his eyes are hollow and blue as marbles and he whispers, “Then why ain’t she dead?”
The water surges to your knees like it’s been displaced by something large, something prowling. You teeter forward, heart hammering, splashing as you regain your balance. Too loud, too loud. Do alligators eat each other?
“She’s dead, Bo. She is.”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch!” He rises to his feet so fast you lose your balance again, flinching back from him. “She ain’t and you know it. You’ve seen her, she’s here! In this fuckin’ house!”
You shake your head quickly and in your periphery something ducks beneath the surface of the water. “No. She’s not.” Convince him, convince yourself, make it true.
His chest is heaving, his gaze darting around the room, searching. You can picture a shadow in shadow, curled up and waiting in the corner of the ceiling like a fat black spider, fingers splayed wide and tipped sharp and red. 
Bo grips the back of his head and moans and it echoes off the trees, too loud, too loud. “Fuckin’...everywhere.”
Faded flowers. Blush, lipstick. A trick of the light. A locket wrapped in vines. Something hunting, just below the surface. If you let it rip him apart, would it come for you next?
“She’s everywhere…in my goddamn head….” He sways on his feet like he might fall and if he does, if the swamp swallows him, you’ll die here in this place.
“Hey.” You close the distance, push through the muck, brush his elbow. “Hey!”
He smacks you away, snaps his jaws closed. “Don’t touch me!”
You cringe and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Something groans in the dark. Something moves near the ceiling. 
His eyes on you are predatory, cold and empty, and his brow furrows. “Who are you?” he demands.
Wide-eyed, you open your mouth to answer him, but there is nothing on your tongue but moss. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
He leans toward you. “Who the fuck are you?”
You hold your hands up in front of you, backing away, mud between your toes. Your fingers are skeletal. Your nails are painted red. “I don’t know!”
A terribly low, vibrating sound is rising from the water, sending ripples in all directions, freezing your heart in your chest. He moves towards you and the swamp parts around him, allows him to pass like he is a part of it.
“You ain’t leavin’, baby.”
His teeth are sharp.
He lunges.
You scream.
The sound gets caught in your throat like a wad of feathers and bones and you choke, twisting, coming to in your bed. In his bed. Disoriented, you gasp for breath and release the death grip you have on the sheet. Your brow is so sweat-soaked your eyes are beginning to sting. The air is dry on your skin; the blanket is gone. The lower half of your body is tingling.
His head lifts from between your thighs and he looks at you with eyebrows raised. “Easy, sugar. Ain’t done with you yet.”
“Wh…what?” You rub at your eyes, trying to shake the sensation of water closing over your face. Somewhere, some version of you is bleeding in the silt.
His tongue makes another pass and you whimper, arms shaking with the effort of holding yourself up, of treading water, of fighting the maw of a monster. “Relax, baby. Go back to sleep.”
It’s all so insurmountable, the weight of it on your chest, and you sink back into the mattress without a ripple. His mouth is wet and warm. His dark hair is disheveled and you wonder absently if he misses it, that lock you stole. The room is silent save for the sound of your drowning.
“Is it raining?” you whisper, and hate yourself for the hope behind it.
He pauses, meets your gaze over the watery surface of your body. All you can see are his eyes and you could swear, for a second, they reflect neon red. “No.”
You let your head drop back onto the pillow, let him devour you, feel a tear slip over the brim of your lashes and disappear into your hair.
.
The storm breaks on a Wednesday. 
At first, you don’t register the rain on the roof. You don’t even take note of the thunder anymore, after weeks of torment. It’s become a fixture like the dust, like the pervasive smell of decay.
It starts slow, cautious, rolling into town like a tourist with a busted GPS. You mistake the patter for the familiar buzz of TV static even though that makes no sense, even though you’re the only one in the house, even though the TV is off in the next room. All you can hear is the rough swish of the scrub brush on the hardwood floor, coaxing flecks of blood from the gaps between the boards. It’s already beginning to reek in the heat.
You wanted to clean it up last night when it was fresh but he wouldn’t let you, strongarmed you up the stairs and pinned you to the mattress. You’d never admit it to him, to God, or to yourself—and really, is there a difference in Ambrose—but he fucks so good when he’s riled up like that, when it feels like he can’t get enough of the killing so he’s going to take it out on you, take everything you have to offer him plus a little bit more.
The cut on your palm is half-healed and hurts when you put your weight on it. There’s something about that—familiar, comfortable, not grounding, not really, but like static. Stable. Buoyant. Like the bruises on your knees. A constant that cradles you and takes you up and out of here, not too high, just above the trees.
A stair creaks behind you and you freeze like a hare in the shadow of a hawk. It could be Vincent, but he’s busy with last night’s batch. It’s not Bo.
You ease yourself up onto your knees, rock back, stand up, and creep to the foot of the stairs. They are empty. You are alone with the sense that someone has just disappeared out of sight, retreating up into the aching cranium of the house, skirt swishing.
You are never alone, not really.
It’s only then that the sound of the rain seeps into your brain, soothes the hair standing up on the back of your neck. A weight you have been holding on your shoulders since the end of July dissolves like sugar and your spine lengthens by inches. You drop the brush, forget the ghost, walk barefoot through the bloodstain on your way to fling open the front door.
It rains.
It rains even though the clouds are thin, the sun forcing its way through in places like it just can’t bear to admit defeat. It rains and pools in the potholes of the driveway that have been waiting open-mouthed to be filled. It rains and the grass and weeds release a sigh of bliss, stop begging for mercy.
You step down from the porch in a trance, palms up and open, trailing pink-tinged footprints that melt across the concrete like raspberry taffy. You walk across the lawn, scuff your feet in the grass, wonder if maybe you’re dreaming and decide you don’t care.
You sink to the ground, sprawl on your back, feel the damp soak into your clothes and your skin and it makes you whole, makes you new, makes its apologies for taking so long. You are floating, only eyes above the water, surrounded by salvinia and duckweed.
You hear his footsteps just before he calls to you. “The fuck you doin’, girl?” he shouts, but when you open your eyes, he’s losing a fight with a grin, picking his way up the slippery hill.
You sit up halfway. “It’s raining.”
“Y’don’t say.” He drops to his knees beside you, slumped with relief.
His wifebeater is splattered with blood and water but you grab it with both fists and pull him to you, catch his mouth and coax him to the ground.
“Crazy bitch,” he mutters, but he guides your hands to his belt and grips your ass with both hands as you fuss with the buckle, even rolls onto his back to ease your way and lifts his hips so you can tug down his jeans. “Right here, huh?”
“Yes.”
“In the front goddamn yard.”
“Yes!”
“It’s fuckin’ rainin’!”
“I know!”
He laughs and the heavens giftwrap it with a roll of thunder. You're giddy, beaming at him, and he traces your smile with the pad of his finger and something akin to admiration.
You're brand-new, him too, and both of you together. Like it's the first time, a better first, another universe. His hands are on your thighs and his shirt rides up above his stomach. Water drips off your nose and onto his lips and he licks it off like it might save him and maybe it just might. Maybe it’ll save you both.
Exhausted, exalted, you wash the sweat and grime off each other with filthy hands and thirsty mouths. You wrap your fingers around his bare shoulders and ride him with your eyes open and your breath hot on your lips. It’s a fever breaking, the panting, the shaking.
The locket taps against your chest, the lock of his hair tucked inside it. He cups your face, slips his thumb in your mouth, and there’s blood beneath his fingernail. You suck it clean with greed and obedience, savor it, turn your face to the sky and let the crocodile tears run down your cheeks.
“That’s my girl,” he growls, and you bask in the rare and wondrous glow of his approval.
You come apart in splashes like raindrops, small, staccato swells in your core while he kisses the rain off your skin. His hands find the bruises they’ve left on your hips and squeeze and it’s all you could ever ask for, to be held. To be hurt. To be his.
Maybe it’s not so bad, you think. Sometimes. It’s not so bad.
“Y'know, girl, maybe you're right,” he says. "Just this once."
You’re confused until you realize you’ve spoken out loud. You look down at him, cold skin, wet curls, a smudge on his jaw that could be mud or blood, his or yours or someone else’s. He looks back like he sees you.
“You love me?” you ask him before you can think better of it. Before the rain stops.
The corner of his mouth twitches. His gaze slides past you, goes somewhere else, above the sea of trees. The sky is in his eyes. “Sometimes.”
You don’t smile, don’t sigh, just push the hair off his brow and sink slow and gentle beneath the surface and into the green, not a ripple made in your wake.
“Good.”
434 notes · View notes
miniwheat77 · 2 months ago
Text
The One. (Creepy!Graves x Virgin!Reader.)
!DARK FIC, nsfw, smut, non con, dub con, proceed with caution. P in v sex, unprotected, virginity loss, scumbag!graves, oral sex m&f!receiving. NO MINORS!
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“Yeah yeah, I got it.” You mumble into the phone. “She seriously can’t have any human food Y/N. I mean it.” She sighs. “I got it!” You laugh. “Look, me and Ruby are going to be just fine. I’ll feed her exactly how you wrote on the note, no more no less. She’ll get her meds. We’re gonna be alright.” You laugh. Looking down at the little crusty white dog you’ve agreed to dog sit. “Okay. Alright. I’m trusting you with this Y/N.” She groans into the phone. “When have I ever tested your trust?” You laugh. “You’re right. I know. I’m just stressed with this work trip, that’s all.” She sounds exhausted on the other end of the phone. "And outside of all of this that dog is all I've got. You know this." She huffs.
“Get some sleep alright? I’ll send you updates about Ruby everyday. I’ll see you when you come back.” You smile. “Alright. Thanks again Y/N. See you in a few days.”
You hang the phone up. You sigh, this was going to be a long few days.
Her house is a little eerie and you have a hard time falling asleep, but you do eventually, not having gotten to her house until late the night before.
It’s early in the morning when a knock at the door wakes you, you skeptically make your way down the stairs and hate the fact that she doesn’t have a peep hole. You open the door slowly. “Hey I was just wonder-“ The man looking back at you gathers a look of confusion. “Uhhh… you’re not Jennifer.” He laughs. “Uh.. yeah. She’s um.. on a work trip. So me and my boyfriend are house sitting for her.” You lie. You don’t have a boyfriend but you don’t want to tell a random man that you’re alone. “Oh okay. She borrowed my lawn mower a few days ago and it doesn’t look like she ever got around to her lawn but mine needs done here soon.. so. I was just wondering if I could get it back but it can wait a couple days. Thanks anyways.” He smiles. “I can always call and ask her.” You look up at him, he practically towers over you. “Oh no. I don’t want to bug her if she’s on a work trip, it can wait. Thanks anyways darling.” He smiles. The way he says ‘darling’ has your stomach doing flips. “I’m Phillip by the way.” He reaches out a hand. You take it. “Y/N.” You smile.
As soon as the door is closed you’re on your phone sending her a text.
So we keeping secrets now?
Wym?
I mean your hot neighbor.
Ew.
You don’t think so?
He’s kind of a creep I’ve heard.
Oof. Didn’t give me a bad vibe ;)
Oh dear. Don't go getting yourself into trouble.
You laugh at her text, making your way back up the stairs.
Later the same day, you’d gone to pick up some groceries, not wanting to eat her food. She said you could but you felt that was rude since she was only going to be gone a few days anyways. You also had to pick up the remainder of Ruby’s meds. She’s turned into quite the problem child.
As you’re making your way up the walkway, you see him working on some roses. Trimming them down a little bit. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi.”
“I actually had a question.” He sets the trimmers down, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “Yeah?” Under his shirt you can see just how toned he is. You approach the chain length fence that he's just on the other side of.
“You house sit a lot?” He asks. “Not usually, but I’m not against it. Why?”
“Well, my wife is a night shift nurse and I’m in the military so I’m gone quite a bit. We pay a lot for our kids to be in daycare but we don’t always trust them. You good with kids?” He asks. “Oh uh.. well. It depends. How many days a week do you think they’d need to be watched?” You ask. “Probably only 2 or 3 days a week. Few hours at a time. Just until their grandparents or aunt can get them.” You nod your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d mind.” You shrug. He nods. “Alright cool. I’m sure my wife would like to meet you first. Although she isn’t off until about midnight tonight though.” He mumbles. “Uhh.. I’m sure I’ll be awake by then, I can just stop by.” You shrug. “That’d be great.” He smiles.
This could turn into a pretty good job, night shift nurse, military? They’d probably be willing to pay a pretty penny for their kids to be watched and you already have some debt racked up. This could turn into something pretty damn nice. You wait around and it seems like midnight may never come. You make sure Ruby is fed and has her meds before you make your way over next door, not sure how long it may take and you don't want to leave the little dog hanging. You make sure to go over a few minutes early to make a good impression.
11:47pm
You knock at the door and he smiles when he greets you. “Hey.” He smiles. “Come on in. My wife should be off work here soon.” He smiles. You step inside. “You can have a seat on the couch, you want anything to drink?” He asks. “Oh. No I’m alright.” You smile. “Thanks though.” You take a seat on his couch. “Alright. I’m just gonna grab a beer real quick.” He smiles, walking out of the room.
How’s Ruby?
She’s good but I’m out for a minute.
What? Why?
Just a second, your neighbor asked if I’d be interested in watching his kids for him. Yknow. Since I’m such a good house sitter ;)
At midnight?
It’s when his wife is off work.
I didn’t know he was married? Or that he had kids?
He said so. He said she’d be home soon.
No, I definitely remember. He doesn’t have kids or a wife. You’re talking about the neighbor on the left side?
You’re starting to get worried. Eyes drawing up from your phone. If something happens you want her to be able to call for help but you also don’t want to be the idiot that walked right into a trap this easily.
Oh no, the one across the street.
Oh okay, jeez. Had me worried there. They nice? I’ve never met em.
Yeah, super nice. His wife just got here actually. Talk to you later. Ruby misses you.
You put your phone down, the hair on your body standing up. Worry fills you. He walks back into the room, turning the cap off of the beer.
11:53pm
“So uh.. you said you’re in the military?” You ask. “Yeah, been in since I was eighteen.” He nods. “And.. your wife’s a nurse, that’s pretty cool.” You smile. “Yeah, she doesn't mind it.” He laughs. “How old are your kids? I forgot to ask.” You glance at his left hand.
Stomach falling when you don’t see a ring. “They’re 9 and 5.” He nods. “Drive me crazy.” You’re glancing around the house. Not a toy or anything related to a woman or kids in sight. “You said your boyfriend is staying with you, how long have you both been together?” He asks. “Oh.. uh.. 3 years.” You smile. “No kids?”
“No. Not yet anyways.” You laugh. “Do you want them?” He asks. “Uhhh.. we haven’t really talked too much about it.” You laugh. You exchange more conversation as the time passes by.
12:05am
“You know.. I hate to cut this short but I’m exhausted…” you mumble. Standing up.
He stands up quickly. “She should be home any minute, really.” He laughs, gliding a hand through his hair. “Yeah I’m really sorry, I’m not usually up this late. Maybe I can come back tomorrow night or a night when she doesn’t work.” You mumble. Rubbing your eyes. Feigning tiredness.
“Alright well. I understand.” He smiles. You walk for the door, surprised when he doesn’t make a move to stop you.
You grasp the door handle, opening up the door.
It slams shut, his hand above you. A gasp leaves your lips. You freeze. You say nothing and hear nothing from him. Just his heavy breathing from behind you. “Please… let me go.”
He raises his hand, grasping your hair and moving it to your other shoulder. “I’m not trying to scare you.. promise.” He breathes. “I’m not too good at this.” He sighs. His lips are right by your ear. You tug at the door handle again but he holds it.
“Look.. just talk to me please? I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.” He breathes. “Look my boyfriend is probably really wondering where I am-“
“Y/N.” He shakes his head. “You and I both know there’s nobody over there. Just you.” His voice is quiet and deep.
“How do you know that?” Your heart thumps in your chest, so loud he can hear it.
“I live right next door sweetheart. I’ve seen you around before.” He laughs. “Just.. sit back down. We can talk this out.”
“No. I want to leave.” You breathe. “Please.. I swear. One conversation and I’ll let you go.”
You hesitate. “Fine.” You breathe. Surprised when he steps back. You turn to look at him but you don’t move away from the door. He takes another couple steps back. “Why did you lie about having a wife and kids?” You ask. “I.. just wanted you over here. I needed some kind of excuse. I think you’re.. gorgeous and I realize now how creepy that probably soun-“ you grasp the door handle and rip it open.
But you’re not fast enough.
He grasps a hold of your arm, ripping you back inside his house and slamming the door, locking it this time. He shoves you up against it. Your cheek pressed against the cool wood. He hisses, pressing his entire body into you. “Fuck- now why’d you have to go and do that hm?” He breathes. You can feel him shaking. He wraps a hand in your hair, pushing your face into the door harder. “You’re so pretty. Fuck- and you smell so good too.” He breathes. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He shakes. “I know I’m a fucking creep. I’m not good at this.” His voice is shaky and he stutters when he speaks. Like he’s never done this before. Like some Virgin desperate enough to hurt for it.
“I- I just.. haven’t been with a woman in so long. And you.. my god. I knew I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you. Knew you were the one.” He’s nearly panting as he says it. “It’s.. it’s okay Phillip- that’s your name right?” You mumble. He nods. He releases the pressure he has on you, letting you spin around to look at him. “You don’t have to do this okay?” You breathe.
“But.. I do.”
He leans into you. “You can fight me.” He breathes. His lips are nearly brushing yours. “But you don’t have to. I saw the way you were looking at me. I know you want this too.” He breathes. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
You can feel tears gathering in your eyes. This is what you get for being so trusting. “Okay… okay.” You take in a shaky breath. “Don’t cry… please. I promise I’ll be good to you okay?” You nod. Closing your eyes tight. His lips brush yours and you take in a deep breath. He presses his to yours fully, and this is happening one way or another so you ignore what this really is. You don’t kiss him back. He kisses you hard, hands on your hips, pushing them up your shirt. When he finally pulls away your lips are blushing.
“I.. I’m sorry.” He breathes. He wipes his face in frustration. “Can we start over?” He breathes. Your cheeks are still wet with tears. “I.. I’m Phillip. I’m single, no kids. I’m in the military.” He laughs. He inhales through his nose. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.
He sees the slightest tug at the corner of your lips.
“I… I’m Y/N. I’m also single, and I’m dog sitting next door.” You breathe. Taking his hand.
“And.. that’s probably not what you should’ve started with.” You breathe. Eyes flashing to his lips and than back to his eyes. “What?”
“You should’ve said, ‘Hi. I’m Phillip. And I’m so horny that I look like a creep and force myself onto people.’ Maybe.” You laugh, looking down. He smiles. It’s obviously a sad smile. “God.. when you say it like that.” He breathes. “I swear I’m not usually like this.” He shakes his head. “Haven’t been with a woman in years but there’s something about you.” He trails off, shaking his head. “I’ve seen you around but talking to you was an entirely different ballgame. My god…” He breathes. “I am a creep, shit.” He breathes. “It’s okay.” You sigh. “I mean it’s not but.. I’ll let it go.” You breathe.
“Okay. I.. you can go alright? I’m sorry.”
You shake your head.
“What?”
“The proper way to get a girl alone, is to invite her over for dinner sometime. Not lie about having a wife and kids. Total turn off.” You laugh. “But lucky for you, I’m nice so I’ll let it slide.” You take a deep breath. “If you do that shit to me again though I might have to fight you. So just.. keep your hands to yourself and we’ll be alright.” You laugh. Your heart is still thumping in your chest. He didn’t seem like a violent man, but he’d just tried to force himself on you so you couldn’t assume too much more. He raises his hands in surrender. “Promise.”
“How long have you been in the military?” You ask. “I didn’t lie about that part. Since I was eighteen.” He nods. He skeptically sits down. You can tell he doesn’t want you to leave. “And how old are you?” You ask. “Thirty-five.” Your eyes widen. “Jesus.” You laugh. “What?”
“Older than I thought.” You mumble. Seeing as you’re still in your mid-twenties. “You.. want to watch a movie or something?” He asks. “Uh. Yeah fine whatever.” You mumble, sitting down.
Your brain is fried, should you take him being so into you that he nearly forces himself on you as a compliment?
You sit down away from him, the both of you agreeing on a movie.
You’re getting tired but you know you can’t fall asleep here, so you finish the movie and go back next door without any more issues.
———
“Hey.” He smiles. “I uh.. brought beer.” You laugh. He’s invited you to his house once again. Properly this time.
You step inside and he closes the door behind you. You’d picked a new movie to watch this time. It’d just come out. You take your places, you’d set Ruby up with some food and water and a couple treats so she was asleep when you left. He starts the movie and opens a beer, sitting where he usually does.
About halfway through the movie is when a sex scene comes on. The first of any of the movies you’d watched. You notice him shift uncomfortably. By the end of the scene, he’s palming himself in the dark. You can barely see it. You chew at your lip nervously. He’s laying back on the smaller love seat to your right, he can’t see you as easily as you see him. He clearly doesn’t know that.
When the movie is over, he’s got one hand behind his head, his eyes are closed. His lips are parted slightly, he’s clearly fallen asleep. You smile. You stand up, walking around. You cross your arms and bite your lip, thinking of what to do.
Should you just leave?
Since his arm is draped behind his head like a pillow, his shirt has raised. Showing off his toned stomach. Your eyes travel further down, seeing that he’s still hard. Must be dreaming.
Fuck it.
You slide one knee over him, straddling his knees. It’s a little uncomfortable because the couch isn’t too big seeing as it’s a love seat. You expect him to wake up or even stir but he doesn’t. Deep sleeper.
You reach for his jeans, unbuttoning them. Unzipping them and tugging them down around his cock. He’s still hard. You’re being rough and he still hasn’t woken up. You lower yourself down, taking him into your mouth. You’re gentle at first. Toying with him to see how he’ll react in his sleep. It takes a while for him to let out a whine and shift slightly. Taking in a breath. You take him further, hollowing your cheeks and sucking. Bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Making sure not to put too much pressure on him. He takes in a jagged breath. He moans out again. “Fuck- Y/N-“ he hisses. You think he’s woken up.
Your eyes snap to his face but his eyes are still shut. It’s you he’s dreaming about. Maybe he really did just like you.
You keep up the pace. His breaths getting heavier and more frequent, until he’s panting. He’s right on the edge. His eyes tighten. He’s really close. He’s never been this close before in a dream. Why is he so-
His eyes snap open, widening when he sees you on him.
“O-oh fuck.” He breathes. “Y/N- what are you-“ his lips open.
“Wait-“ he hisses, you don’t. You don’t relent for even a second.
You can’t deny it, he’s hot and he wants you.
He’s pathetic
“Sh- oh my god…” He breathes. The muscles in his stomach tense up as you start sucking at the tip of his cock. “Fuck baby- fuck..” he breathes. “Look at me.” He hisses, his teeth are gritted. Your eyes snap up to his and he moans out, resting his back on the couch, looking down at you. “Fuck.. I’m gonna-” He groans. His eyes screw shut and he cries out. He rocks his hips forward and you swallow down a gag.
He bucks his hips again, crying out a final time as he finishes down your throat. Panting as you clean him up. “Fuck… you didn’t have to do that.” He breathes. You finally look up at him, moving up further and straddling his still hard cock. He gasps when the seam of your jeans rub against him.
“Phillip?” You say. Your voice is unsteady and rough. “Yeah?”
“You’re pathetic.” He laughs. “And you still sucked my cock.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s because you’re hot, creep.” You go to stand up, but he stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”
You laugh. “Well I was going to go home.”
“You really want to leave after that?”
You shrug. “Why don’t you stay a while.” He chews at his lip, hand gripping his hard cock again. “Or maybe I’ll just give you no choice.” He smirks.
You roll your eyes at him. “What are you going to do?”
“At least.. meet you in the middle.” You look away from him. “Yeah, I’ll be honest. No one’s ever done that before.” You go to stand up but he stops you again. “Done what?” He asks. You roll your eyes, looking away from him.
“No one’s ever gone down on you before?”
You try to hide the smile of embarrassment. “Have you ever.. done any of this before?” He asks.
You swallow hard. Avoiding his gaze. “Shit… are you a Virgin?” He asks. You look down, setting your hands in your lap. The way you fidget with your hands is enough for him to know that you are. “Damn baby. I had no idea. I’m sorry I came on so strong before.”
You can’t help but hide your face, hearing him laugh. He grips your wrists, tugging them down. “Have you ever gone down on anyone else before, like that?” He asks. “No.”
He smiles. “You really had me fooled because.. that’s the hardest I’ve probably ever cum.” He laughs. He’s so straight forward you. You don’t know how to take him. “You’re already a pro and I haven’t shown you anything yet.”
“Yet?” You laugh. “Yeah. Yet.” He rests his hands on your thighs. His cock is still exposed. Still hard and blushing red. “You’re a bad girl, waking me up like that.” He laughs.
“Yeah right, like I couldn’t see you palming yourself through the entire movie.” You roll your eyes.
He sits up, you go to move off of him but he stops you, lifting you up with it. He sits you down on the couch like you would normal. “Slide your hips to the edge.” He nods. “What?”
“M’gonna eat that pretty pussy. Cmon.” He reaches for your waistband. “I- I haven’t shaved and I’m-“
He laughs. “Look at me.” He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m a man not a boy. Take your pants off.” He’s stern.
You swallow hard. Nodding your head. “Y-yes sir.” The words leave your lips before you even realize it. “I- I mean!”
“It’s okay. You’re working yourself up for nothing. Relax.” He wants to taunt you but doesn’t want to take this too far.
When your pants are finally off, you have your legs shut tight. It’s amusing, how nervous you are.
“Slide your hips to the edge and spread your legs for me baby. Go on.”
You take in a deep breath. Your heart thumps hard in your chest, he can hear it. He lowers himself to his knees as you do what he says, skeptically opening your legs. You’ve still got panties on. He holds onto your knees, opening your legs even more. “Fuck. You’re so pretty.” He licks his lips. He’s ready to devour you. He’s got it in his eyes.
He runs his thumb over your clothed pussy, rubbing back and forth over your clit through your panties. You take in a deep breath. “No one has ever touched you here before?” He taunts. You shake your head. “No.”
“Shame for them. And you of course. Not for me.” He laughs. “I get you all to myself.”
He lowers his head, gliding his tongue across your panties. You moan out, watching him tease you. He flicks his tongue over your clit through them, he can feel you shiver. Desperate for him to actually touch you. He uses the tips of his fingers to slide your panties to the side. Biting his lip when he finally gets a good look at you. “Fuck…” he draws it out. It’s nearly a moan when it leaves his lips. “You’re so wet..” He breathes. He glides his tongue up your slit, flicking it over your clit just once. You tense up, the sensitivity has you whining. “Phillip please!” You cry.
He holds your hands to your side so that you can’t touch him. He laughs. “Be patient. Don’t you want your first time to be special?” He smirks. Your eyes are glossy and your cheeks are flushed. You’re turned on and he can see it in your eyes. He lets go of your hands and leans in. He’s going to seal the deal. He draws his tongue over your clit again, but this time he doesn’t let up. He keeps the steady pace, flattening his tongue across it and abusing it.
He doesn’t stop or give you a break, keeping the pace and force on your clit. You’re squirming in no time. Whining and crying out for him. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging it slightly. He likes the way it feels. He draws away for just a second, gathering his saliva on his fingers and gliding them down. Returning his tongue back to your clit. You don’t realize what he’s going to do until he’s already done it. He slides a soaked finger into your hole, feeling you tense up hard at the intrusion. Your breath gets caught in your throat. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust. He pumps his finger into you at a fast pace.
You’re not going to last.
You’re nearly sobbing when he brings you to the edge. He sucks at your clit, fingering your pussy until you can’t even form a single word or thought.
When you reach your peak, you sob. Crying out louder than you’ve ever been. He keeps the pace until you squirm, stopping him.
When he finally pulls away, his lips and cheeks are flushed. His face glistens in your arousal. He smiles, licking his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “How do you feel baby? I make you feel good?”
You nod your head. He’s put you into a daze.
He laughs at your fucked out state.
“If you thought that was good.. you should see what my cock would do to you.” He glides his middle finger down your wet opening, sliding it back into your blushing hole. You whine out again. It’s too much.
“I’d stretch you so much more.. and reach so much deeper.” He slides his finger in and out of you slow, barely moving it. “You’d feel so full.” He breathes.
“You want to feel me baby? Think you can take it?”
You think for a second. You’re already sprawled out on his couch.
You nod your head.
“Atta girl.”
He exposes himself once more. He glides the tip of his cock over your slit. Gathering the arousal that’s still there from when he’d devoured you. “I’ve opened you up quite a bit already, you’re ready for me now.”
He notches the tip right at the entrance and pushes into you slow. He was right. He’s stretching you a lot.
It’s uncomfortable but he’d made your body ready for him.
He rubs circles over your clit as he pushes deeper and deeper. Keeping you stimulated. Your body takes him right in. When he’s almost there, you start to tense up. He knows he’s hurting you. Going deeper than anything you’ve ever taken, “it’s alright. You’re doing so good baby. Just keep your legs spread for me.”
You wrap your arms under your knees, spreading your legs further. You watch as he slides deeper. His cock disappearing into you.
It’s getting tighter and hurting more. “I-it hurts Phillip.” You whine. “It’s okay. Nearly there doll.” He keeps rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. He jerks forward, hearing you cry out as he forces himself the rest of the way in. Drawing his hand back from you. “There we go- all done.” He breathes. You have tears in your eyes. “I know it hurts but it’ll never have to hurt again okay. Look at me.” He nods. Your eyes snap to his. “There’s my girl. Doing so good.” He shakes his head. He draws his hips back and slides back into you, slow. He nods his head while looking at you. “You’re taking me so well baby. So good. Just keep relaxed for me.”
The pain starts to ease. He’d hurt you pretty badly right there at the end.
It takes you a few minutes to get fully used to him. Even after that, it’s a foreign feeling. Not quite comfortable but not entirely uncomfortable either. You feel nothing.
He can see it in your face that you’re not enjoying it, but he knows exactly how to change that.
He fills you completely, the backs of your thighs flush with his hips. He’s buried completely inside of you. He nods. “Slide your hips back a little bit.” He moves with you as you do as he says. “Open your legs just a little more- perfect.”
“Now lay back completely and relax. Okay?”
You nod your head. Still feeling uncomfortable. “Perfect, try to relax now. It’s going to be a lot.”
You don’t understand what he means until he draws back and thrusts in again. Right up against that spongy spot inside of you. Your eyes widen and you gasp when he does. Chills rise on your skin. He laughs at your reaction. “Found it.”
He picks up his pace, fucking into you harder, going even deeper. The squelch from your pussy getting wetter around him has you blushing. You’re already overstimulated but he’s got you closing in on another orgasm. Your clit throbs and he doesn’t forget to give it attention too. Rubbing his thumb over it again. It’s nearly too much.
“Look at me.”
You raise your eyes to look at him, swallowing hard.
“You’re doing so good. You feeling good baby?” He asks. You nod your head. He can tell you’re getting close again. “I’m going to cum in you.”
Your eyes widen and you shake your head. He laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.” He smiles. “Phillip- no-“
“Shhh.. just relax baby. You get the full experience. It doesn’t count, not until I fill your pussy full.”
You start to squirm. You’re not ready for a baby and even if you take something, then what?
He keeps his pace and holds you still, using one hand to force your hands together. You can’t help it. The way he stimulates you. You cry out, soaking his cock in your orgasm. The first time ever cumming around a cock. “Oh god.. I’m gonna cum so deep baby- I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you.” You squirm hard, trying to wiggle away, but he’s got you pinned. He draws his hand back, holding both of your wrists with both of his hands. He’s got a death grip on you.
He thrusts in as deep as he can and pauses, your eyes widen when you feel him. He cums right up against your wall, the force has your eyes widening.
You can’t believe him!
When he’s calmed down, you shove him back.
“Woah- hey. What’s wrong?”
You look pissed off.
“Y-you’re such an asshole!” You hiss. You hurry to tug your clothes back on but he’s trying to stop you the entire time.
“Don’t touch me!” You growl. “And don’t come near me again.” You go for his door and he tries to stop you but you slam the door behind yourself before he gets the chance.
“Shit.” He mumbles.
Just when you start to trust him, he fucks it all up.
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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago
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girl dad aaron AMUSEMENT PARK EDITION!!!!!!!
he would spend all his money at the ring toss just to get his girl the prize she wants. he would hold her hand on the swings. he would give into her begging to go on the big drop ride. he would ride in her bumper car, whispering, “c’mon. let’s bump into mommy. it’ll be funny.” he would make sure to smear her in sunscreen. he would let her wear his sunglasses. he would buy her dippin dots and funnel cakes and cotton candy. he would carry her on his shoulders. he would get wet on the water rides with her. he would guarantee they get to sit in the back or front carts (it’s only appropriate to sit in the front on some rides. other rides, it’s only appropriate to sit in the back. he would know which ride requires the back seat and which requires the front because he’s asked around because he wants his girl to have the best experience on the rollercoasters she can.) he would pack so much water to make sure everyone stays hydrated (he’s also got a fanny pack. i don’t make the rules.) he would pose for the cameras with her on the rides (silly faces, bunny ears, kissing her cheek, etc.) and he would obviously buy them and hang them on the fridge until the entire fridge is covered in them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
aw aw awwww are you trying to make me cry?????? 😭💞💞💞
baby girl's his ride buddy of the day 🥹🥹🥹 it works out perfectly too. i feel like aaron's not too keen on rides - he gets nauseous easily and can only take so much 😭 whereas you're still okay - so you'll go on the more extreme rides with jack. as the two of you are doing that, aaron's on the more tame rides with baby girl, or standing on the sidelines with her in his arms, pointing out you and jack on the ride 🥰 and for the kiddie rides that don't fit an adult, jack happily goes on those with her hehe <3333 best big brother
aaron's hand is always in hers, she's in his arms, or in a stroller, just always accounted for. he's terrified she'll somehow wander away (although she knows not to) or he knows how easily someone could come swoop her up and take her far away (mosley lane 😭😭😭😭) and STOP the visual of her on his shoulders, in his sunglasses that are far too big for her, gripping onto his hair or his head as she chatters away - pointing out what she sees, what rides she wants to go on, what snacks smell yummy, or simply talking about anything <3333 sobbing
when it comes to the prizes, aaron's definitely paying way more than what that item probably cost to make, and knows it's 'lowkey' a waste of money 😭 but there's no price when it comes to baby girl's happiness, he'll do whatever it takes 🥰 the smile that forms on her face when she finally gets the plushie she wanted??? priceless and it's a memory they'll both hold onto forever - aaron takes full advantage of those type of memories 🥺
the bumper cars!!!!!!!!!!! the true highlight of the day 😭 aaron's with baby girl, you're with jack. hehe you peer over as aaron's sneakily whispering to her and eyeing the two of you👀, you know what he's scheming and tell jack the very same thing 🤭 "we gotta get dad and your sister". the laughs that erupt from both of them as they bump into each other 😭😭😭😭 it's contagious, you and aaron are equally as giddy and are loving every second of it 🥰 they even both insist on riding multiple times just to crash into each other LOL
and omg aaron's prepared and stacked for every scenario possible. extra clothes, shoes, socks are in the car (for each family member) for after the water rides. he packs dramamine, ibruprofen, bug spray. he also strategically plans out when to eat snacks or food - to prevent upset stomachs after eating and going on rides 🥴 he brings a tonnn of sunscreen and applies frequently. omg the four of you are pulled off to the side, drinking water and taking a break - you unscrew the top of a water bottle for jack, simply turn your head, and are met with aaron's hands on your face - applying sunscreen generously for you too 😭😭😭🫶🏻 he also brought hats for extra coverage - jack has a baseball cap, baby girl has a cute lil bucket hat 🥰
and AWWW the pictures 🥹🥹🥹 aaron's sure to get multiples too - one for the fridge, for baby girl's room (a pic of them on her bedside table 😭😭😭😭 especially useful when she misses him when he's gone on a case and she just wants her daddy🥺) and his office 😭<3333
as the four of you leave the amusement park when night falls, baby girl is absolutely zonked 😭 her face is smushed into aaron's neck, arms around his neck, maybe even drooling a bit, completely out. hehe so aaron veryyyy carefully places her into her carseat as to not wake her up 🥹 ugh she had the best day <333
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theocddiaries · 2 months ago
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[At the Mean Bean, Maddie storms in with a bag of fruit and slams it onto the counter.] Maddie: Stone, I know we're on a truce until your boyfriend loses it, so I'll say this with all due respect: your fruit is crap. Stone: I know, Maddie, I'm sorry. They changed my supplier, and I have a feeling that instead of coming from a greenhouse, this comes straight from the landfill… Maddie: Well, you should do something! Shadow [walks in with a tray of untouched fruit]: Mr. Stone, if you insist on selling this to customers, then you serve them yourself. I’m too ashamed to hand this out. Maddie: See? You can't afford this, you're getting back on your feet. Stone: I know! I know! Don't worry, I've already taken this seriously. I sent the supplier an email explaining the situation and ended it coldly. Maddie and Shadow [exchange a look and then glare at him] Stone: Yeah, you heard me. I wrote "Best regards." No more "Best regards, have a great day" or "Friendly regards." No, no. When I'm mad, I'm mad for real. That guy is not giving me rotten fruit again. Robotnik [walks in with a box of rotten fruit]: Stone, the fruit. [drops it on the counter]: Listen, you can call me picky all you want, but in my opinion, there's no thing that can eat this. Shadow [wrinkles his nose]: Except for that worm crawling out of the apple. Maddie: Damn it! Just because we're having more animals than humans in this town now doesn’t mean the average diet should include bugs now! Stone: You’re right. Ivo, toss this. The supplier is really gonna hear from me now. Shadow: Thank goodness. Stone: I’m going to write a letter and press the pen down hard while I write so he knows how mad I am. [nods and walks off to find paper and pen, chin held high] Maddie: Alright, that’s enough. Eggman, give me the phone. Robotnik: Get it yourself, you lazy ass. Shadow [grabs the phone from the counter and hands it to Maddie] Maddie: Thanks, Shadow. [searches for the supplier’s contact and calls]: Hello. Are you the owner of the fruit shop that supplies the Mean Bean? Yeah? Well, then the only good morning is the one you have because we surely aren't thanks to you and the garbage you sell. Uh-huh. Yeah. Of course, I’ll say it to your face! Whenever you want! Tomorrow? See you tomorrow, then! Bye! [hangs up and turns to Shadow]: Make me a chamomile tea, please. [goes to sit down] Robotnik [grabs Shadow’s arm]: Make it a whole jug. Tom [walks in cheerfully]: Hey, guys! What’s new? Shadow: Your wife is going to fight our fruit supplier. Tom: I said new. [sighs]: Gotta fence off the town square again…
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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago
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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 41
Part 1 Part 40
Eddie’s twitchier than usual all throughout the school day. He sits through shop and history and band, rocking back and forth in his seat, staring at the door. He wants to bolt out the classroom door and hunt Steve down.
He doesn’t even know Steve’s school schedule.
It’s too soon for him to be back. Medically and maybe emotionally if that showdown with Hagan and Perkins was anything to go by.
Eddie didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He’d been picturing Steve slinking back into the shell of King Steve, curling all that jagged edges tight enough to cut himself.
But, no. King Steve had rather publicly and spectacularly abdicated his throne.
Eddie wants to be happy. That was one of the most public declarations of possession Eddie’s ever seen. Steve Harrington had scorned his friends, and walked away, with Eddie.
But Perkin had looked hurt, and Steve’s eyes had gone dead and cold, and that lifeless gaze had stayed all the way through Eddie dropping him off at his classroom like he was a kindergartener and Eddie was his parent.
So, Eddie is stressed, buzzing with useless adrenaline as he speeds through the cafeteria, grabbing his usual droll lunch, and dropping down at his seat.
Gareth plops down beside him and says, “so, I heard a rumor.”
“Hmm?” Eddie asks, eyes flitting around the cafeteria, barely listening.
Steve’s not in his usual seat, center-stage at the jock table. What if he doesn’t show up for lunch at all? Will Eddie have to search the entire school to find him and make sure the asshole is alive and eating?
“I heard Harrington showed up to school in your van.”
Eddie snaps his gaze up, only just noticing that Jeff is sitting across from him, staring him down with furrowed brows. “So?” Eddie asks, like it’s not a big deal at all.
“So?!” Gareth replies, leaning toward Eddie, bringing their faces alarmingly close together so he can glare right into Eddie’s eyes. “So, you’re sick for a week.” He pauses here to emphasize the little finger quotations he puts around the word sick. “And come back to school with the jock of all jocks?”
“Shut up,” Eddie says. He has no rebuttal, can’t say much else without finding himself chained to another chair in that same cold, windowless room. “He’s just going through some stuff.”
“And that’s your problem because?” Jeff asks, biting into his shitty school-lunch lasagna and scrapping his teeth against his fork just because he knows it bugs the shit out of Eddie.
Eddie sighs, running his fingers through his bangs vigorously. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s already frazzled beyond repair.
“Just be nice,” he hisses, glaring between his two friends even as Doug sits down beside Jeff and starts eating his burger like he doesn’t care about anything that’s happening. He’s now Eddie’s favorite.
“Are you serious?” Gareth asks. “You’re asking us to be nice to fucking Steve Harrington of all people? When would we even see him?” He throws his hands in the air; palms open like he wants to slap the shit out of Eddie but he’s hanging on by a thread. Eddie echoes the sentiment.
“Look—” Eddie starts.
But then there’s a lunch tray placed beside his own, and the subject of their conversation takes a seat by Eddie’s side without even a by your leave. Jeff and Gareth are both gawping, lunches forgotten. Even Doug stops eating to look between Eddie and Steve with a raised eyebrow before clearly deciding it’s none of his business.
Steve’s opted for the same over-cooked hockey puck hamburger with fries, but he doesn’t seem interested in eating it. Eddie resists the urge to cram it into his mouth. Just like the doctor ordered.
“What is happening?” Jeff asks, but he, too picks up his fork and begins eating.
“Lunch?” Eddie says. Beside him, Steve snorts, and Eddie’s insides flutter alarmingly.
“And you can’t sit with your friends over there because?” Gareth asks snidely, gesturing rudely over to Steve’s usual table.
“Dude,” Steve says. “My only friends are a twelve-year-old and this guy.” He points at Eddie like he’s something he scraped off his shoe, smirking like he knows he’s making everything worse.
“Stevie,” Eddie says, giving him his most devastating kicked-puppy eyes; the ones that always melted Uncle Wayne when he pulled them out of his arsenal. “Barb would cry if she heard you say that.”
“I would cry if Steve said what?” Barb asks, shoving him gently sideways so she can squish herself into the open spot at his side.
“Stevie here said you two aren’t friends,” Eddie tattles gleefully.
Barb looks over at Steve, eyebrow raised as she looks him up and down, smiling at the wardrobe change that was one of Eddie’s worn-out band T-shirts. “You’ll do, I guess,” Barb says, before turning to glare across the cafeteria. “Besides, I’m going to need some new friends at this rate.”
Everyone’s eyes track the movement, following her line of sight to where Nancy and Jonathan are cozied up next to each other. They both look as studious and serious as ever, but Eddie can see their thighs touching beneath the table. He glances over at Steve, feels relieved when Steve’s little face isn’t scrunched up in heartbreak. If anything, he looks confused.
“Ouch,” Eddie says, nudging her shoulder. “Tough break.”
“I don’t get it,” Steve says, still squinting in confusion over at the pair.
Barb sighs, picking at the seams of the peanut butter and jelly she pulls from her backpack. “All Nancy cares about right now is Jonathan.” Her shoulders slump as she nibbles around her sandwich, only eating the crust like a weirdo. “At least with you, I knew it wouldn’t last.” She keeps talking over Steve’s little, offended, “hey!” “Now, when am I going to get my best friend back?”
Steve’s staring at Barb like he wants to burrow into her skull and root around. “She’s right there.” He points at Nancy rudely. Luckily, Nancy doesn’t seem to notice; too wrapped up in her nerdy little version of a honeymoon phase. “Can’t you just go hang out with both of them?”
“Dude,” Jeff says, staring at Steve like he’s an especially weird bug. Even Gareth is too baffled to seem all that hostile anymore. Eddie feels smug. How Steve passed for a suave, cool jock for so long is a mystery.
Barb groans, biting her sandwich in half viciously. “It’s not the same,” she says. “They’re all wrapped up in each other.”
“Didn’t Hagan and Perkins go through a honeymoon phase?” Eddie asks. “What did you used to do when they’d go on their romantic dates?”
If anything, Steve looks more confused. “Go with them?”
“You’re shitting me,” Gareth says aggressively, like this is some weird hazing ritual.
“Wait, no. Let’s let this play out,” Eddie says, turning his back on Gareth so he can watch Steve. “So, let’s set the stage. It’s valentine’s day, 1982. Tommy Hagan has set up a candlelit dinner with Miss Perkins to celebrate their eternal love. Where are you in this scenario?”
Steve’s still got his brows furrowed like he doesn’t understand the assignment. “Have you been like, stalking me?” The little freak sounds almost flattered at the accusation.
“Are you serious, Stevie?” Eddie asks, unsurprised when Steve nods.
“So, you, Steve Harrington, showed up at your best friend’s valentine’s date last year and that was just fine?” Barb asks, deadpan.
“Usually, I help Carol do her make-up before,” Steve replies, blessedly finally picking up his burger and taking a bite. He looks over at the jock table, something small and forlorn twisting his mouth even as he bites savagely into his burger like he’s trying to kill it. “She’s not good at doing her own eye shadow without looking like a hooker.”
Everyone’s just staring at Steve while he eats his burger, oblivious.
“What the fuck?” Gareth asks.
Eddie looks over to the jock table. Tommy and Carol are both seated, glaring at the back of Steve’s head with poorly concealed jealousy. “You know,” Eddie says, looking away quickly before he accidentally meets either of the wonder twin’s eyes, “this actually explains so much.”
Barb sweeps her empty sandwich baggy into the trash like the middle-class girl she is and says, almost like she’s thinking about it, “I don’t think I can go on Nancy and Jonathan’s dates.”
Jeff, having finished his lasagna in silence, says, “Okay, they’re both freaks.”
“Here that Stevie?” Eddie asks, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder and shaking him as he tries to swallow his bite of hamburger without choking. “You can stay!”
Steve takes another bite and talk around the mouthful like the heathen he is. “I was never going anywhere.”
Eddie smiles down at Steve, not dropping him as he takes a bite of his own lasagna. He lets the warmth in.
Part 42
Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar
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pandora-writes-one-piece · 9 months ago
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The Meet Cute - Ace's Story - 3
Tumblr media
Source for pic
Firestarter 3
Word Count: 4300
Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader, slight NSFW (It's mature, not explicit), slightly sugestive behaviour, flirting, jealousy, frenemies, sexual tension, miscommunication, unresolved tension, slight angst, slow-burn, romantic comedy vibes, alternate universe modern setting, swearing, drinking, fluff, feelings realisation, denial of feelings.
Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.
Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?
Notes: Are you guys liking the story so far? I'm almost done writting it. It will be around 10 chapters, maybe 11. If you wish to be added to a tag list, say so! Thank you!
Masterlist for previous introductory chapters.
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“How was the run, bug?”
“Fine.” Grumbling, you drink a large glass of water and start biting down on an apple. “What do we need to do, today?”
Shanks sees your foul mood and deftly avoids it, enumerating all the menial tasks that need to be done. Not only on the property, but also in the house. 
“Okay, I'll take the inside of the house, you get started outside. Fair?”
Shanks nods as he reaches for his straw hat. 
“At lunch we'll discuss your surgery. I've given you enough time.” Your voice is stern and you almost sound like your mother. Shaking that thought away, you grab your supplies and get started. Cleaning the house has always allowed you time to think, and you're in desperate need of that. 
The bathrooms aren't that dirty since it's really only the two of you in the house and, surprisingly, Shanks is pretty clean. So, as you scrub the shower, you start to think about Ace. He's the epitome of the boy next door. With all the repercussions of it and all the girls that come with him as well. And despite your mind telling you constantly that you should not be with him, you can't help your body from desiring him. 
You even consider giving in to temptation and getting with him, just for fun, so you can finally get him out of your head. But that's just stupid. And counterproductive. So you scrap that thought. 
But you still revisit that ‘friends’ idea. You have fun with him and you could use some fun in your life. You just need to stop thinking about him carnally. How hard can that be, really? 
Just on cue, your phone buzzes and, after finishing the shower, you remove your gloves to read it. 
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Dinner? Friends have dinner together. You both need to eat. But you have to make sure that it's nothing romantic. He needs to understand that. Or that you're not just one of his usual girls. He needs to understand that as well. Yet you seem to be taking a while to answer, so he adds another thought. 
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You exchange a few more texts to get the hour and arrange to meet him since he's going to be there sometime in the afternoon. What should you wear? Well it's just a friendly hang. You don't need to wear anything special. 
Maybe you should call Nami… but that is a double-edged sword. Do you want to involve Nami in this? You know she'll be all up in your business with incessant questions and… Groaning you dial Nami's number and set it on speaker as you use your nerves to tackle the toilet. 
“Hi, girl!
“Hey, Nami, you busy?”
“Nope. It’s actually my day off, and Vivi managed to escape her City Hall duties earlier than expected, so we’re hanging.” You smile into the toilet. You had met Vivi over online calls but you had yet to meet the real thing. She is Nami's girlfriend and an angel for putting up with her fiery attitude. 
“Send her my love. Can you help me?”
“What is it, sweetheart? 
You sigh, but ultimately decide to treat this as if it was a band aid. Just rip it and scream after. 
“Well, Ace invited me to hang with him at the firehouse so he doesn't spend his shift alone. Pizza and movies.” You ignore the high pitch squeal on the other side and are already regretting all of the life-choices that led to this moment, but you continue. “It's a ‘friends’ thing!” You emphasise. “I just need to know if you have any tips on what I should wear? For a friendly hang!” You need to reinforce that notion. 
All credit where credit is due. Nami doesn't squeal anymore on the phone, though she can't quite disguise the amusement in her voice. 
“Honey, can I come over after lunch? We can choose together.”
“Oh, no, no. I can't intrude on your time with Vivi!”
Nami giggles on the other side. “I'll bring her along! And some of my clothes too… Talk later, hun!”
Crap, you shouldn't have called Nami. She's going to bring the skimpiest clothes ever. 
-*-
“That's too much, Nami!” You whine and kick the high heels away from you. “It's a friendly thing! I'm wearing sneakers! Help me out, Vivi.”
The blue-haired girl giggles and shows Nami an apologetic smile. “She wins, Nami. Simple is better in this case.”
“Fine!” Nami concedes with a pout and you sigh exasperatedly. You're tired of trying on clothes and you still need to take a bath. “But you're not passing out in thigh-high socks or shorts!” She squeaks. “I know that showing your thighs like that will drive him crazy.”
You roll your eyes at her as you set aside the chosen outfit. It's not that bad. You won, it's simple, yet cute. “I don't want to drive him crazy.”
“Sure, honey. And I don't want to earn money.” 
“Unrelated.” You bite back. 
“Still, both are untrue.” She winks as she gathers the skimpy outfits she brought while muttering that she'd make you wear them on another occasion. “What about your hair? We could-...”
“No, no! It's fine! I got it from here, Nami. Thank you so much for your help. Vivi, thank you for coming, your help was precious in handling Nami.”
She giggles and agrees. Both girls tell you to have fun tonight and Nami begs for a text with an update when you get home. Even if it's in the morning, and she double winks when you remain stoic at her joke. Before your bath, you go downstairs to accompany them and have a quick word with Shanks, who avoided surgery conversation at lunch like a professional. 
You wave the girls goodbye and then saunter to the living room, where your father is watching some sports game on TV and scowl while clearing your throat. 
“Oh, bug! The girls left? I thought you were going out for dinner?”
You blush slightly. “I am, just not with them.”
He mutes the TV to look at you with a raised brow. “Want to tell me who you're going with?” He raises his hand in the air. “Only if you want, baby, I know you're an adult now.”
“It’s just a friendly dinner. Ace wants to show me the firestation and we’re going to eat some pizza and watch some movies.” You seem to be finding it quite hard to hold your father’s stare.
“Ace?” His brows knit together but he nods. “Okay, be careful.”
Your head cocks to the side instinctively. “With what?”
“Just… it’s a dad thing, okay? Be careful!” He gets flustered and unmutes the TV but you’re still not done, so you position yourself in front of the screen on purpose. 
“The surgery, dad.”
Closing his eyes, Shanks sighs and turns off the TV. “Okay, let’s talk.”
-*-
You’re blow drying your hair after a quick shower while humming to a song. The talk with your father went as well as expected. He refused the surgery and you probed him so hard with questions that you finally understood he is simply afraid of becoming even more impaired than he already is.
You assured him that everything would be alright and that the condition his back is in is going to leave him impaired anyway and, after some coaxing and perhaps a slight hint of coercion, you managed to convince him to schedule a time with Dr. Law so he can give you both a step-by-step of the surgery, to assuage any fears you have remaining. 
You stare at the time and curse. You have about ten minutes to get ready and leave the house before you’re officially late. Finishing your hair, you apply very light makeup and then proceed to dress in the outfit that gave you a headache during the afternoon: jean shorts, thigh-high black socks, and a fitted black t-shirt with the most appropriate lettering for the occasion - ‘Firestarter’. You had almost doubled over laughing when you came across that shirt from your collection. You finish the look with your black and white sneakers and some bracelets. 
One last look in the mirror makes you shrug your arms and sigh. “It’s a friend’s thing. Stop overthinking it!” You growl to yourself and leave with a hasty step.
“Bye, dad, see you later!” You hear him rushing to the door of the living room and stare at you, his arm under his chest as if he was crossing it with his missing arm. You blush and add. “There’s lunch leftovers in the fridge if you want. Bye.”
“Bug.” You stop with the door open and turn back with a soft smile. “You look great.”
“Thanks, dad!” Your smile widens and you step out. “I really have to go, love you!”
You hear a soft ‘love you too’ before you close the door behind you. 
Luckily, your car - that’s now fixed thanks to Kid - doesn’t give you any trouble starting and you arrive at the fire station at the aforementioned time. Parking the car and taking a deep breath, you walk to the door and knock softly, phone already in hand in case he doesn’t hear you since the firestation is huge! It has three rolling garage doors for when the trucks need to exit and it looks old, its red bricks faded by the sun.
He must’ve been standing right on the other side of the door because it swings back and you are greeted by a smiling Ace.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
His smile falters as he sees you and you notice his eyes lingering on your exposed thighs. Nami was right. You want to giggle, but you remain composed. 
“Hi Ace.” Your eyes also linger on his muscular chest. You're used to seeing him without a t-shirt so you’re not quite sure why that black, fitted shirt makes him even hotter. 
“Wow.” He mutters. “You look… damn! Firestarter, indeed.” He chuckles nervously and you raise an eyebrow. Has the player run out of moves?
“Thanks.” You stand at the doorway awkwardly while he’s still hung up on how you look. It’s quite flattering, actually, and you are glad you took Nami’s advice. “Should we get inside?”
He gasps and moves away from the threshold. “Yes! Come in! I’ve already ordered the pizza, Deuce should be here any second now.” You nod and get inside while looking around. You enter some sort of reception area, so he leads you inside.
“This is the day room.” It’s a larger room with a big table, some chairs, a TV and a grey loveseat. “We’ll be watching a movie here.” He smirks as the doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell? You missed it. “Oh, it’s Deuce, I’ll be right back!”
“Wait, Ace! Let me give you some money for the pizza.”
“Are you kidding me?” He snorts. “No way.” Then he dashes through the reception room to get the pizza. You hear some sort of discussion but you can’t make out the words. You’re curious, but you don’t mean to pry since Ace acted as if he knew the pizza guy, so you entertain yourself by watching a case with old photos and trophies. 
Until you hear a hushed, ‘no, Deuce! Oh, come on!’ and a rustle of feet approaching. You turn to the door to be met with a grinning tall man with blue spiky hair and carrying two boxes of large pizza.
He chuckles and settles the pizza on the table, his eyes never leaving you. “Hi.” His grin widens and Ace enters the room with a scowl. 
“This is my idiot friend from school, Deuce. Deuce, this is…” He stammers and you take over.
“The idiot brother’s friend from school.” You tell him your name and extend your hand to shake it, but he smiles, takes your hand and places a kiss on the back, making you blush from the surprise.
“Delighted to meet you. You’re gorgeous.”
“Alright, okay, that’s enough. Bye, Deuce! Don’t you have more pizzas to deliver?” Ace grabs Deuce by the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him, making him let go of your hand.
“If you get tired of Ace, I’m great fun!” He replies, making you chuckle as Ace pulls him even harder. He’s halfway through the reception when you hear him exclaim: “You were right, Ace, this one is something!”
“Shut up, idiot!” 
The smile vanishes from your face as you stare at your reflection in the trophy case. ‘This one’ he had said. As if it’s a regular thing for Ace to bring girls to the firestation. Cute girls, apparently. Girls he actually wants to kiss. 
You sigh and shake your head as you hear his footsteps approach. No matter. You were only here for a movie and pizza. Nothing else. 
“Sorry about him. Deuce is a good friend but he’s a dick sometimes.”
You smile as Ace grabs some paper plates from one of the drawers and opens one of the pizza boxes. “Soda or beer?” 
“Soda’s fine.” You answer as he takes out two cans from the fridge. “What do you want to watch?”
Ace insists on watching a horror movie, thinking it might scare you, but turns out he’s the one doing most of the jumping. You eat three slices of pizza and Ace finishes the rest of the boxes. The man sure can eat.
Ace sits on the floor to eat the pizza, but as soon as you are both done, he climbs to the sofa, stretching as he does it to make it seem like his back hurts. You lean down, intent on removing your sneakers so you can get more comfortable on the couch when he gasps.
“What the hell is that on your arm?” He points and you eye him with a raised brow.
“What do you mean?”
“There!” He points again at your left forearm where there’s a big purplish bruise and you smile at him.
“Oh, this! It was from the other day. When I was almost hit by a car. It barely hurts.” You wave your hand dismissively but he grabs your arm to examine it closer and you clench your jaw. Why are his hands so hot?
“I did this?” He murmurs while his index finger ghosts over the bruise, creating a little trail of goosebumps.
���Well, yes, but, technically, you saved me so-...”
“I’m sorry.” He looks really apologetic, his eyes never leaving your bruised arm. The loveseat is pretty small so he’s really close to you and you can almost feel heat coming off of him. It’s not just his hand that is warm, it’s all of him. How is that possible?
“Ace, it’s okay. Really.”
He removes his eyes from the bruise and raises them to meet yours. You could close the distance between both of you with a mere blink, such is his proximity. His hands are still reaching and holding your arm, so he’s already leaning all over you and, once again, you feel some sort of magnetic pull. Some animalistic desire that makes you want to kiss him.
Your eyes dart down to his lips inadvertently, and your breathing accelerates. 
Friends, friends, friends!
Your mind keeps screaming at you, but his smell is inebriating and you want to drown in it. You want to drown in him. 
You’re just another girl. You’re just another girl.
He’s close, so close. 
The horror movie on TV unleashes a jump scare with a loud sound and this time, for the first time during the whole movie, you jump and get up abruptly. “Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom.”
Ace takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck. “It’s that door over there.” He points and you nod. You don’t really need to use the bathroom. But you needed to get out of his hold. Quickly. 
-*-
The mood returns to relaxed and normal when you return. You sit on the couch, having removed your sneakers, and sit with both legs bent to the side. Ace seems to find the seat small, so he stretches an arm over the back, behind you. 
The oldest trick ever. 
“So how come you still live with Mr. Garp?” You need to cut this sexual/romantic tension so, what better way to do it then by creating tension with his existing family member. 
You sense the change in his demeanour but his eyes never leave the screen. “It… just never happened.”
“Luffy and Sabo left. Is your grandpa ill?”
“No.” You sense his discomfort with the situation so you don't probe anymore. If he wants, he'll tell you about it. Which he does, after a moment. 
“I screw up a lot.” You turn to him. The seriousness in his tone conveys his real feelings and you hang on every word he's willing to give you. “I always have. I never had perfect grades, I just got by. I didn't go to college and I never joined the Marines like grandpa wanted.” He sighs and his gaze remains fixed on the TV though the ending credits have just started rolling. “I don't have any goals, I can't keep a steady relationship and, even if it looks like it, I don't have my life together. Grandpa doesn't believe I'm capable of great things. And it's true.”
Your eyes bore into his, but he doesn't turn to you. Swallowing a hard lump on your throat, you nod slowly. This man doesn't let his life move forward because he doesn't believe he is worthy of it. Garp had other plans for his grandson's life and, apparently, laid his frustrations upon Ace. Who now cannot escape this life on his own. 
“But you are capable of great things, Ace.”
He scoffs. “How do you know? I've changed! And even so, we hardly even talked before you left.” He doesn't mean to be hurtful, but it's true. 
“You're right. But here's how I remember you: A caring big brother who watched over Luffy when they got home from school and made sure he ate plenty of fruit with his snacks; A protective big brother, who caught Luffy with a broken lip and didn't rest until he found the bully and forced him to apologise; And even if it went against your aloof and bad boy persona, a loving brother who knew how to comfort and show love to a boy who needed it.”
His eyes finally turn to you. They're downcast, but you're sure he absorbed everything you said. Perhaps it is the beginning of a healing process for him. You can only hope so. 
“Thanks. I… I needed that.” He still seems lost, so you hold his hand and entwine your fingers with his, giving him some slight pats on the back of the hand. 
“Anytime you think you're not good enough or not capable… think of me, okay?” You grin and wink at him. 
Finally there's a hint of a smile on his face and that manages to warm you up. It felt nice to speak with him without him trying to escape the conversation with funny remarks. 
His thumb starts to trace gentle patterns on your hand. “I'm already thinking about you all day, what's the difference?” You want to believe him. His smile is genuine and you can almost perceive a small embarrassed look. But you can't really believe in him. The notches under his belt are too heavy to ignore. 
“I'm sure that works with all the girls.” You scoff and point your head at the TV. “Movie's over. Can you show me around?” You let go of his hand and lean down to put on your sneakers. 
“Yeah.” He replies dryly. 
-*-
He's shown you the locker rooms, the comms room, the small bedroom with two bunk beds, for when they spend the night, and now you're both standing in front of the pole. 
“Wanna do it?” He grins. “We need to get down so I can show you the truck. It's pretty cool…” He tempts you. 
“I don't know…” You eye the thing suspiciously. Technically, it's not hard. It's just sliding down. 
“I'll go first and I'll catch you if anything happens.” He assures you but you're still weary. “As much as I would love to catch you, I doubt you'll need it. You're so brave, courageous, strong-...”
“Eugh, stop that! Fine. I'll do it.” You giggle excitedly and he claps before grabbing the pole with both hands. 
“It's not rocket science. You grab, and you go down.” His voice descends as he slides down and you chuckle. Your nerves are getting the best of you. 
“Okay, okay, I got this.” You grab the pole with both hands. “Grab, and go down.” You do a little jump and squeal as you slide down. Ace is there to catch you but he was right, you don't need it. Though he still places his hands on your hips, just in case. 
“You're a natural.” His breath kisses your eyelids as you look up to meet his gaze. 
Magnets. 
But you need to reverse the polarisation. You need to be repelling, not attracting. 
“Thanks.” You whisper back. 
Reverse the poles. 
You walk away from him and act amazed at the huge space the trucks are in. It's a garage with firefighting equipment and two trucks and an ambulance. “It's huge!”
“Yeah I get that reaction a lot.” He chuckles and you can't avoid a snort. 
“You're quite cocksure.” 
“I sure am!” He keeps grinning and you laugh out loud. “Come inside.” Opening the door to one of the trucks, he, once again, sets his hands on your hips to help you up. Does he have a thing for hips? Because it sure seems like now you do! Everytime his strong hands grip you, you shudder and gasp at the feeling. It leaves you wanting more. How would his bare hands feel against your bare hips? 
Friends, damnit! Friends! 
Right. The truck! “So many buttons.”
He sits down in the driver seat and leans back. “Want to play the siren? It's quite fun!”
You look at him with half a smile, fairly tempted. “No, we shouldn't. We might give a heart attack to some senior citizens.” You grin. 
He still shows you where the button for the siren is and what the other buttons do. But after a moment in companionable silence, it's his turn to ask you a difficult question. 
“Why did you want to get married so young?”
It takes you by surprise as your face whips towards him, holding his gaze. He's serious again. “I… don't know, exactly…”
It's your turn to focus your eyes somewhere else and you choose your hands as you fidget with them. 
“It seemed like it was the right thing to do. My mom married my dad after high school. So when Ichiji proposed, I thought I should do the same.” You snort. “Look how well that worked out. To my parents and to me!”
Ace rests his head against the headrest and crosses his arms behind it, making his taut muscles bend and flex and you regret having looked, so you return your stare to your hands. Your innocent hands. 
Ace is very sinful. 
“I think it did. Both ways, actually.”
“What?”
He turns his head your way, slightly. “Clearly your parents weren't made for each other. I remember hearing them fight all the way to my house.” You can't help but agree with that. Both your parents were a lot happier and more civil with one another, actually, once they separated. “And your ex, clearly, was not meant for you. I mean… It takes a special kind of dumbass to cheat on someone like you…”
You fight against your better instincts. You should know better than to be swayed by his words. He's a player. He's got moves. He's got the right words. 
And they freaking work. 
Because you are a mess right now. Your heart keeps fluttering against your chest with all the sweet things he's saying and you've been rubbing your thighs together since he grabbed you by the hips when you descended the pole. 
Clearly you want him. You want him so badly. 
But you can't! Because you were never a girl for casual relationships and Ace doesn't do serious! He said so himself. So you sigh, do a little more rubbing and try to focus on grounding yourself. 
Off-limits. Off-limits. 
“Thank you for tonight, Ace. It was fun. I should get going.” You move so you can leave but he sets his hand on your forearm. 
“Are you leaving already? Did I do anything wrong?” Your stomach tightens and your chest aches. 
“No, Ace. You did everything right.” Leaning in, you give him a quick peck on his face. Then you turn and jump out of the truck. “I just have to go. I need to help dad, tomorrow. It's late, I'm tired.”
And you need to get away from him. 
He nods with a silly little smile on his lips. Your kiss helped make him realise he did nothing wrong. 
“Okay, sure. I'll walk you out.”
And after you gather your things from the day room, he walks you to the front door and into your car. You keep thinking that a goodnight kiss would be very nice. But you already gave him a very innocent kiss on the cheek and that should be enough. 
It's not. 
So you say another goodbye and enter the car. Your heart feels both heavy and light. It's a weird dichotomy that leaves you wanting more. Ace is fun and easy. But he's not boyfriend material. 
And you seem to have started to develop feelings for him. 
And that is not okay.
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