#well i spend a 1/3 of the life sitting in a car waiting

[moths-in-a-coat]

i’m so chronically early to everything

if i cared to analyze myself, i would probably say something about how everyone who says i have anxiety is correct. but, alas, all that i have to say is that sitting in an off car for 40 min while it’s 14 degrees out proves not to be the best idea

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Your lips | Pt. 2

(A/N) Good god, I love the scottish translator. Also, thank you for all the notes on Part 1. 🥺

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregnancy, kissis

Synopsis: Simon makes sure to take care of you. Especially when a certain someone comes back into your life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Two steps out of your house and you almost dropped your decaf coffee. Not that that wasn’t a common occurrence, not since the baby had started kicking and you started getting Braxton Hicks contractions. But this time, you almost dropped it because of the man standing in your driveway. The man and the car behind him.

“Simon?”

He wasn’t wearing his standard uniform, instead sporting grey sweatpants, which hung dangerously low on his hips, and a very, very, very tight black compression shirt. You couldn’t decide if he looked as if he had just rolled out of bed or as if he had just gotten done working out. Secretly, you hoped it was the second option.

“How long have you been waiting for?”

As quickly as your state allowed you to, you walked towards him, but ever the gentleman, he met you halfway and immediately grabbed the bag from your shoulder, before offering you his arm, just like the day before.

“Only a few minutes.”

(He had been standing in that one spot for almost 40 minutes, waiting for you to come out.)

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow once he turned his head to look at you as well.

“Already told you, you shouldn’t be on your feet this much.”

He quickly turned his head, instead focusing his eyes on the car he was leading you to, but you would swear on your life that you saw a little bit of pink peeking out from behind the mask he was wearing. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt your own cheeks heat up.

Within ten minutes, Simon parked the car right in front of the clinic doors. You frowned slightly, watching Simon round the car and open your door to help you out.

“Don’t worry, I just want to get you inside, then I’ll leave.”

You chuckle as you link your arm with his.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Once you realized what you just said, you slapped your free hand over your mouth.

“I-I mean I…ahm…I mean thank you. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to get rid of you. Not after everything you’re doing for me.”

You could tell by the crinkles surrounding his eyes, that he was smiling.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not trying to get rid of me.”

You grinned at him, ignoring the stares from your colleagues as he slowly guided you to your office. Once inside, he made sure you were sat down and had everything you needed before he bid his goodbye and swiftly left.

Within seconds of his departure, one of your favorite colleagues entered the office, a stupid grin on her face. But you held up your hand before she could say anything.

“No, nothing is going on between us. He’s just being nice and taking care of a lonely, pregnant lady.”

You stopped for a second, looking her in the eyes before a grin took over your lips.

“Do I wish something was going on? Definitely.”

This caused your colleague to squeal in excitement as she rushed towards you. On her way, she grabbed the stool on wheels, sitting down midway and using her momentum to slide and stop right next to you.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

So, you spend the hour you usually took to prepare for the day, recounting everything that had happened so far for her. She listened as if you were telling the most amazing tale, asking questions at the perfect moments and nodding along.

Once it was time for your first patient, you had to usher her out of your office, promising to tell her more during lunch break.

A few days later

You smiled at your phone, a new text from Simon popping up.

“Got a long lunch break. Anything you’re craving?”

You quickly typed your response, naming a few items from your favorite fast-food restaurant. Simon sent back a thumbs-up emoji and you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling up in your stomach. Or was it butterflies?

But before you could focus on lunch, you had one more patient. Although you didn’t know who it was, you knew that it was a check-up for an old injury. All you had to do was check it out and either prescribe further treatment or give them the clear for duty.

When the awaited knock sounded out from your door, you called out to enter without looking up from your screen. You heard the door open and a few steps, before they stopped abruptly. Confused, you lifted your head and locked eyes with a person you thought you’d never see again. Your name left his lips as a whisper. A few months ago you would’ve smiled, jumped to your feet, and hugged him, but now, hatred filled you instead.

Slowly, you got to your feet, never taking your eyes off of your ex.

“Leave.”

He repeated your name this time louder and took a few steps in your direction.

“Stop. I said leave. Go.”

He shook his head.

“Please…I’ve been trying to reach you for months. It was a mistake to leave you, I-”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about your stupid excuses. The fact is, you left me. You left me knowing I was pregnant with your child.”

His eyes immediately flickered to your swollen stomach. He started moving in your direction again, his hands held out as if he wanted to touch your stomach.

“I said stop-!”

Before your ex could take another step, he was pulled back by the scruff of his shirt. A dull thud echoed through the room as his body hit the floor, Simon quickly pinning him down. While the man on the floor struggled to throw Simon off, he just looked back at you, brows furrowed with concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, but Simon noticed the way your body was shaking. He needed to get rid of that prick, so he could take care of you. While keeping your ex pinned to the floor, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number, raising the device to his ear.

“Got a muppet causing trouble, can you come in here and take care of him?”

He quickly hung up and a few seconds later, the door to your office opened and a man with a mohawk entered. As soon as he caught sight of you, a low whistle escaped his lips.

“Ah see whit ye'r talking aboot L.t.”

“Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

With practiced ease, Simon pulled your ex to his feet and handed him off to the other man.

“Wha would've guessed? a recruit o' ours. Ah will tak' him tae Price.”

Simon nodded, watching until Johnny and your ex left the room. Then he quickly closed the door, before crossing the room to reach you.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You started to nod before reality came crashing down and you started to shake your head as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I-I thought he was gonna hurt me. And the baby.”

Simon gently pulled you into a hug, holding you as tight as he could without squishing you. You leaned into his touch, the shaking slowly subsiding as Simon gently stroked your back.

“It’s okay. I got you.”

You stayed, wrapped up in his arms, until you calmed down. Well, actually your feet started to hurt and you wanted to sit down. So, you slowly peeled away from Simon, before grabbing his arm and leading him over to the bed, where the two of you sat down next to each other.

After a few moments, Simon asked you to wait for a second, before he got to his feet and left the room. Alone, your mind kept flashing back to your ex. He looked just as he had when he left you. Like a coward.

With a dry chuckle, you wiped the tears off your cheeks. He would and could not affect you like this. Not anymore. You stood up and started walking back to your desk when the door opened again and Simon walked in.

“What are you doing?”

You frowned.

“Getting back to work?”

Simon shook his head and walked up to you, pressing his lips to your hairline, through his mask, before pulling back to look at you.

“Just talked to your supervisor. You got the rest of the day off.”

As if nothing just happened, he walked around you and packed your bag, before throwing it over his shoulder. Once he was done, he walked back to where you stayed, rooted to the ground. He looked confused, waving his hand in front of your eyes. You snap out of your stupor, your eyes finding his.

“Can you do that again? Kiss me?”

Your cheeks heated up under his slowly darkening gaze as your words sank in. Your bag hit the floor with a quiet thud as Simon leaned down until his face was right in front of yours. With one hand, he gently grabbed your chin, lifting it slightly, while he used the other hand to pull his mask down.

And then his lips met yours.

When you were a child, you read all these books where kisses were described to feel like fireworks going off. But when you had your first kiss and felt…nothing, you were disappointed, thinking that all these books just lied. But now, here, you felt it. Fireworks going off in your stomach as your lips moved against Simon’s.

All too soon, he pulled back and your eyes fluttered open. And for the first time, you saw his face. All of it. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently tracing over a scar that ran from his chin to his cheek. Simon closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips as you carefully touched him.

“Sorry, I-”

Simon shook his head and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back and moving his mask back over his mouth and nose.

“Don’t worry, love. Nothing to be sorry for.”

You nodded with a small smile and watched as he picked your bag back up, before threading his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Now, let’s get some food in you, huh?”

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

Tags: @brinteylovesaliens @m3ntally-unstable

Like what you're reading? Buy me a coffee!

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 10: Ghost’s Date

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Ghost x Reader (+ Ghost x Price x Reader), threesome, douple p, a bit of choking, feelings.

It's a couple of days after your little adventure with Soap, while you are making yourself a cup of coffee that Ghost enters the house. He walks behind you, smiling when you smile at him, he hugs you from behind kissing the back of your head. 

“How you doing, birdie?” He asks, resting his head on yours.

“Really good, Ghostie.” You answer, smiling enjoying the warmth of his body.

“Any plans for today?” He asks

“Yeah, I was planning on going running later, then I was going to go on a flight to Madagascar and probably have dinner at some terrorist organisation headquarters.” You answer, unnecessarily sarcastic knowing perfectly fine you can't leave the house. “Why? You wanna join?”

“Ha, ha. Well, since you are so busy I'll ask Gaz if he wants to help me with the dogs then.” He says casually, stepping back and chuckling when you whip your head around.

“Dogs?” You ask with a wide smile on your face. 

“Yeah, there is a bunch of new K-9 units and I have been assigned to arrange their trainers and partners.” He explains. “I thought you'd like to spend the afternoon with the puppies but it seems you're busy, so.”

“No, no, I'm not.” You quickly say, clinging to his t-shirt. “I'm sorry, I was just joking, sorry, sorry.” 

You lay your head on his chest, looking up to him with puppy eyes. 

“Can I see the doggies?” You ask smiling softly.

He chuckles, shaking his head at your antics and patting your butt. 

“Put on your shoes then, let's go.” You quickly scurry past him, coffee long forgotten on the kitchen counter. You end up being the one pulling him out of the house, excited to see dogs.

The fresh air of the outside fills your lungs when you take a deep breath making Ghost chuckle. “You're acting like the house doesn't have windows.” 

You laugh back, not being able to argue and walking towards the car. It is a quick drive back to base, and different from Soap, Ghost lets you open your own door waiting for you before the car to hold your hand on your way inside the dog kennels. 

The barks and whines of the puppies can be heard immediately and Ghost moves his hand to the small part of your back to push you forward telling you to go for them. 

You walk faster almost running until reaching the gate at the end of the hall where the puppies are, little tails wagging to the sound of your voice excited to meet new people. You crouch down getting your finger inside that immediately get bitten and licked by the little devils. 

“Want to help me give them their tags?” Ghost asks when he reaches you. “You need to go inside, I'm sure you'll hate it.”

You end up having the time of your life, once inside you sit on the floor close to the gate with Ghost sitting on the other side of the gate. He passes the collars with the tag for each dog, laughing when you try and identify each of the puppies when they won't stay still for a second. 

By the end, most of the dogs are already falling asleep around you; even some on top of you. And when you are done with the tags, Ghost moves to the desk to sign the last documents required.

“Oh, no!” You exclaim getting his attention. “He peed on me!” You whine, moving the puppy that was on your lap and getting out. Holding the t-shirt away from your body, a big, circular spot in the middle of it. 

Ghost chuckles when he sees you, noticing a familiar tag on it. “Wait, is that…”

“Soap's t-shirt?” You ask, looking at what he's pointing. “Yeah, it is.” 

That turns Ghost's chuckle into a whole belly laugh as he stands, finished all the work, picking it up. “Let's go to the room, I'll lend you one of mine.” 

“You got a room in here?” You ask walking after him.

“Yeah, nothing major. Price managed to get us a room for each of us, Gaz and Soap share theirs cause they are clingy but Price and I got our own. Rank privileges.” He says winking at you, slightly blushing for some reason at such a silly gesture. 

The room is close by, and when you enter Ghost sits on his bed dropping the papers on his desk. You take off the shirt, careful not to touch it with your face in the process. In his bathroom, you wash the part of your abdomen that you feel moist, grimacing at the knowledge it is pee and walk back into the room. Not bothering to put on a shirt and sitting on Ghost's lap, your legs going around his hips.

He looks at you, hugging you back and a look of mischievousness in his eyes. 

“So you told Johnny that you loved him.” Ghost suddenly says, blood blushing to your face making you hide it on his neck as you groan.

“He couldn't stay quiet, could he?” You ask, making the man chuckle as his hand moves up and down your back.

“Nah, you would have threatened him with stopping to love him or something for him to be quiet.” He jokes, his other hand resting on your thigh. “But why do you want him not to say anything, love? Embarrassed of him?”

“No. Of me.” You admit, mumbling against his skin while you hug his torso. 

“Explain.” He simply says, pulling words out of you; feeling a certain wave of proudness that you found a safe space to talk in him, even if hiding your face. 

“I feel silly… too exposed… I don't like it…” you say, burying your face even more if possible trying to hide. 

“It is overwhelming, right? He asks, resting his head on top of yours. “And confusing… it is already confusing coming to terms with the feeling of one person, let alone four of them, right?”

You simply nod against his neck, like a stubborn kid getting called out. 

“And you feel the pressure to automatically love the four of them. There is that one person that you feel like the relationship is a bit more forward or is just different from the rest, maybe you met them before or clicked easier with them. But now, it is not fair to the rest so you start to force yourself to love them too, and it is not that you don't, is that you are not letting the relationship evolve naturally and you are pressuring it, and it doesn't feel right. And then, that turns into feeling that they are gonna notice it, and they are going to hate you and you are going to lose them all, but now you want them and instead of feeling love you feel scared and you don't want to admit it.” He says calmly, each word as if he was reading your mind. You look up to him, brows furrowed and glossy eyes. “Right?”

“How do you…” you half ask, looking into his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. 

“Well, birdie.” He says with a soft chuckle. “We didn't wake up one day and decided we were all married together and everything was perfect. It took us years to finally set everything in.”

“Years?” You ask surprised by the time.

Simon hums as an answer. “We met you a month ago. So you already doing a better job than all of us.” He chuckles. “I'm pretty sure I was the one who did the shittiest job with it, to be honest… I kept thinking Soap didn't like me back, that he was afraid to tell me off and that was why he wanted more with Gaz and Price. Funniest thing is that we were not really dating because I was already unsure about him liking me more than physically.”

“And how did you do it?” You ask.

“Well, the thing that I struggled the most was with how jealous was of the way Soap would look at them. Once I got my head out of my own ass I realised he look at me just like that as well…” He says cupping your face. “And I'm pretty sure he is starting to look at you just like that too. And he is not the only one.”

You look up into his eyes, you have never seen them like they look at the moment. Clear with emotions, no walls in between, just pouring into you the reassurance you so badly need. It brings tears to your eyes, not sad, simply feeling like the door holding all the anxiousness and self-doubt has just been opened and those feelings are being flushed out. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a sob, your hand reaching to the bottom of his mask not daring to actually touch it until he tells you it's okay. He nods, helping you take it off; and before you can kiss him he cups your face stopping you.

“You are alright, birdie?” He asks, concern obvious in his voice. You quickly nod, not wanting to use words and Ghost takes pity on you, probably for seeing himself on you, because he doesn't push you and leans forward crashing his lips against yours. 

His hands move down to your hips, pulling you tightly against him; his tongue finds its way inside dancing along with yours. You grab his shoulders, his wide hands engulfing your ribs pulling you close.

Your hips grind against his crotch making him groan into your mouth, his cock coming to life against your ass. One of his hands moves lower, to where your spine ends and pushes you helping you move against him.

“Aww, poor birdie needs me to fuck all my love into her tight sweet cunt?” He coos into your neck, making you whine out of embarrassment. “Show her how much we want her, our treasured birdie. So luckily that we found you, you know that?”

Ghost moves to kiss your cheeks, drinking your tears as he does. His hand find its way inside of your pants, sliding down until he reaches your entrance groaning when he feels the wetness.

“So wet already, birdie?” He snickers looking at your face as you close your eyes, biting your lips as you keep moving your hips trying to get his finger inside of you. He indulges you, inserting two fingers inside your weeping cunt making you arch your back as a soft moan escapes your lips. 

It is fast, the way he easily takes off your clothes; barely making you stand to take off your clothes before he has you straddling his lap. He's still clothed when you pull him down, making him lay on his back with you still on his lap. 

“I want to ride you, Simon Riley.” 

And who in the hell is he to deny your wishes? He doesn't even stop to think how you learnt his name, Johnny most likely. But you standing over him, hair framing your face, light from outside illuminating you from behind looking like a fucking angel. And it takes him a minute, to remember that he has free will to roam your body with his hands. 

He helps you undo his pants, only taking them down to his mid-thigh before pulling his dick out of his briefs. Simon knows you are not as stretched as you should be, but when he sees you spit down on his tip rubbing your small hand up and down, he too can't wait any longer. 

He helps you, lowering you on his dick as it stretches you to the brim. He sees the look of pure ecstasy on your face; eyes dropping close, brown furrow and lip between your teeth keeping you from moaning out loud. 

He is no better than you, his fingertips dig into the fat of your hips with a bruising strength, his eyes locked into the way your lips spread to allow his dick deep into you. He groans when he feels your hip flush against his, smiling when he sees you grind forward to find friction against your clit; your legs slightly buckling when his trimmed pubes give you that needed touch. 

He moves his hand forward, brushing the soft fuzz of your abdomen as he presses his hand on it placing his hand right where he knows his tip is at. Pressing down at it and moving his thumb slowly down your body, making you feel him inside of you; almost able to tell every vein of his shaft. 

It must also do something for him with the way he groans, using his other hand to move your hips back and forward savouring every millimetre of friction that it gives him. You press your hands on his chest, bending your knees under you getting in position to move up and down. 

He sighs, a feeling of victory in his heart as he moves both his arms to cross them under his head; as if he was simply sunbathing on the beach and not having sex. 

You chuckle when you see him, a refreshing of sight of seeing him smile satisfied with himself and with no mask on the way. 

“Enjoying the view, Riley?” You tease, still not moving and letting yourself rest for a second. 

“Very.” He simply answers, you the white of his teeth peeks as he gives you a tiny smile. “Was it Johnny that told you?”

“Obviously.” You chuckle back, Simon's eyebrow twitching when you do and your cunt clenches around him. “He actually said your name right before eating my ass… I’m still figuring out how to feel about it.”

Your comment makes him chuckle, moving inside of you forcing an intake of air in you. “Nah, that’s just cause you have a bloody nice arse, birdie. Must have reminded him of mine.”

You shake your head. “I’ll have to check it myself then.” You say, raising your chin. 

“Aw, for fucks sake. I already have to hide my arse from Johnny, not from you too.” He laughs, covering his eyes with his arm. 

“Aww, Simon, you getting shy.” You tease him, softly pulling his arm.

“Ha, I’ll show you shy.” He says with a chuckle, he grabs your calves one on each hand pulling you up. It forces you to plant your hands on each side of his head when he pulls your lower body up. It leaves you holding yourself up, with only your hands on the bed, legs spread open and his dick resting on your entrance having forced out with the change in position. 

You look down, seeing the clear string of arousal linking the two of you together, and you watch as he slowly lowers your hips; his tip catching at your entrance and he suddenly thrusts his hips up filling you up easily. 

It forces the air out of your lungs, leaving you with your mouth open right over his face and if you had your eyes open you would be able to see that he looks just as fucked out as you. Eyes closed in bliss, mouth open and head slightly tilted back. 

He moves you up and down, using you like a human fleshlight, the humble show of his sheer strength only fueling your arousal. This man has the strength to break you in two, and instead is using all his power to make you feel good.

It is an angle at which he reaches so deep, every time he lowers your or his hips rises it is skin on skin; there is not an inch of his dick that is not inside of you. Your arousal drips down, making plat plat plat sounds every time your clit kisses his body. 

It has your mind empty, focusing on keeping yourself up but every thrust threatens to make you fall face-first on his. Your arms start to shake after a bit, it is hard to stay up when you are getting fuck within an inch of your life. 

You lower yourself, choosing to rest on your forearms; getting closer to his face but still keeping yourself off of him. “Getting tired, birdie?” He asks between grunts. “Better cum soon them, love.”

He changes the angle again, and somehow the new angle makes it easier for him to reach that point inside of you that has your eyes rolling back into your skull; moaning his name loudly as you feel your climax approach suddenly. 

“Yeah, just like that, birdie.” He says, satisfied with himself that he was able to have you coming undone so quickly. “C’mon, birdie, give to me, love.”

You whine, wanting to hold on a little bit longer; just a bit more.

But it is just a couple thrusts more than have you finally collapsing over him, barely dodging his face on your way down when you come; arms shaking when you feel him let go of you just to rub your clit in tight circles to make you climax last making you moan on his hear.

He lets you breathe when you slap his hand, chuckling to himself when you do and he lets you rest. With you resting on him, both your arms over his head and his face on your chest.  

It takes you a moment to catch your breath back, and when you do you look down to see his dick still red and angry. “You didn't finish…”

“I know, I had another plan.” He says. “Are you alright, love?” He asks, and when you nod he smiles. Standing up keeping you on his arms, your legs around his hips. “Let’s go visit Price.”

“What?” You ask, dumbfounded when you see him start to walk towards the door. “Wait, no, we are naked, people will see.”

“No, they won’t. And I’m dressed.” He argues, and he is right. His only skin showing being his dick and his face. Funny enough.

You hug him, hiding your face on his neck and accepting your fate. He walks outside, he knows perfectly fine that only he and Price are on this side of the base but you don't need to know that. He reaches Price's office in less than a minute which for you feels like an eternity and he knocks on the door, going in when Price says “C’mon in” from the inside.

“Night, Captain.” He says as if it is the most normal interaction. 

“Well, hello Simon.” The captain answers, chuckling when he sees you still hiding. “Hi, birdie.”

You still feel yourself burn with embarrassment, mumbling a tiny Hi as an answer; only pulling your face out when Simons sits you on Price's desk. “Lay down.” Simon tells you.

You look behind you, seeing as Price moves everything so you can lay back; choosing to prop yourself on your elbows to remain able to look at them. 

“Give me a kiss?” Price asks, still sitting on his chair and you give him a soft peck on the lips making the man smile, his moustache moving as he does. “Are you having fun?”

“I am.” You answer and you turn to Ghost. “But he isn’t”

Ghost scoffs at you, slapping your thigh at the same time. “And who says I’m not having fun.”

“He didn't finish.” You tell Price, looking up at him, feeling like a kid snitching on somebody. 

“And whose fault is that?” Ghost answers, teasing you. 

It makes you gasp, feeling offended by his words and you sidekick him his ribs not strong enough to actually hurt him. “Don't say those things to me, I feel bad later!” You admit

“Now, now, settle down the both of you.” He says chuckling as he stands up, slowly walking to stand beside Ghost. “If you have so much energy why don't you fuck it out instead of fighting.”

Ghost groans between your legs, and it's then that you notice that Price is fisting his cock, moving his rough hand slowly up and down Ghost's length aligning it with your entrance. He pushes Ghost forward, filling you up once more and making you moan softly. 

“Lay down.” Price tells you this time, and you oblige letting your back rest against the table. Ghost’s hands move to the underside of your thighs, keeping them up closer to your chest. His hips move slowly in and out of you, and you notice one of his hands slip from your leg. 

Wet sounds catch your attention and when you look up you see Price kissing Ghost, his hand on the back of Ghost's head and Ghost’s hand wrapped around Price’s shaft. He moves his hand at the same pace as the one set by his hips fucking you, you barely hear them moan into each other mouth. The slightest twitch of their eyebrow when they touch a weak spot.

You notice Price’s hand on Ghost’s waist under his shirt, rubbing circles with his thumb and slightly pushing him forward to meet your hips. The one that is behind his head closes around his hair, pulling his head slightly back and Price moves to kiss the man’s throat, a moan leaving Ghost’s mouth as he looks up. 

You see Price drag his tongue flat against Ghost’s neck, moving up to behind his ear biting at his lobe and it is then that he catches you staring; a smirk appearing on his face. “I think birdie is a little perver that likes to watch…” He snitches, a tone of voice that lets you know you are in trouble. 

“I think she just wants more attention… Can’t have enough, do you, birdie?” Ghost asks, grunting as he keeps thrusting in and out. 

“Not true...” You mumble, half whining. You follow Price as he moves away from Ghost, his hand finding its way back to your leg. Price stands behind you, pressing his hand on your chest to make you lie down coming face to face with his dick right in front of your face. 

“Maybe if you have a cock down your throat you will stop lying.” He says, fisting his dick and probing your lips. You open your mouth slowly, expecting him to ease his way inside little by little. Instead, the moment your mouth is opened enough he thrusts forward, making you gag.

“Fuck!” You heard Ghost groan. “Do it again, captain. She clenched down so hard when you did.”

Price chuckles, pulling back and bending down to look at your face. He grabs your hand, moving it so his fingers are on your palm. “If it gets too much, grab it twice, alright, love?” He instructs and you nod, opening your mouth back again eagerly.

He doesn't waste time, filling your mouth back at the same time Ghost does, making you arch your back at the double stimulation. Something about the unusual harder way that the both of them are fucking you tonight truly ignites something inside of you. Ever since your weekend with Soap, something in the dynamics of the five seems to have changed.

Before, they would always touch you with such care as if scared you would break or that they would scare you off if they pressed a bit too hard. Always putting you in front of them, making sure you were enjoying it most time not even caring about themselves.

Not that they are not caring about it today, but there is a certain edge about it that shows that they are enjoying it doing it harder not for the extra friction but for the feeling that they are allowed to do it to you and you are basking on the attention received. 

Price and Ghost thrust in and out so hard that for a second you fear they may meet in the middle, their hands roam your body, pressing, scratching, slightly slapping just to make you jump at the sting. 

Price leans forward to kiss Ghost again, the change in angle making his shaft hit deeper in your throat making you grab his finger in reflex; once, not twice. And once he is sure of it, he keeps fucking your skull without much of a care.

It is not much longer after that you feel your second climax on the night approach, not that you could do much about it. The change in Price's attitude, from worshipping you on your first night to the lack of care of tonight truly opens your eyes to the wide range of possibilities with the man.

And the way Ghost has been filling you up, cunt stretched to accommodate the wide size of his shaft on every thrust has you wailing around Price when his thumb rubs your clit in tight circles. You combust on a loud moan around Price, Ghost holding your hips hard as he picks up the pace trying to reach his as well, grunting loudly and pulling out last second to paint your abdomen white with his spend, groaning at the sigh. 

It is Price the last to come, letting go of your hand to wrap both of his around your throat to fuck it harder. It makes you panic for a second, the lack of his hand translating to a lack of communication to let him know if it is too much. It only lasts until Ghost’s hand takes Price’s place, keeping you grounded as he moves to your side kissing your hand. 

Price's hands wrap harder than expected, making it almost impossible to breathe and having to lean on holding your breath for as long as Price needs hoping to have the lungs capacity. He finally does, right as you start to think about tapping out, he comes deep down your throat, coughing when he finally lets go of your neck. 

He pulls back, letting you breathe, marvelling at the sight of his pretty bird looking so filthy with his and his Lieutenant come on her body. He sits back down on his chair, picking you up to sit you down on his lap; using the tissues on his desk to wash as good as he can the come and spit drying up on your face as you are still coughing up a bit. 

Post-nut clarity hits Price hard when he sees the imprints on his hands on your neck, they are just red for the lack of oxygen; he knows perfectly fine there will be no marks in the morning. But right now you are coughing up a lung and his hands are around your neck. 

He cuddles you, kissing your head as he bathes you in apologies. “I’m sorry, birdie. I was too rough, sorry, love.”

You shake your head, making him look down at your face, heart warming up when he sees a little mischievous smile on your mouth. “I liked it.” You say, voice hoarse and scratched. 

Ghost chuckles behind you, crouching down to let a glass of water on your hands. “You were right, Captain. She is a little perver.” He jokes, dropping a kiss on your forehead. 

Hi my lovelies!! 💗💗

Only two more chapters to go to finish this series, and I dont know how to feel about it.

I only need to write the finale, and revise the next one, AAAAA so nervous.

Once I'm done with that I'll do a lot of blogkeeping so it is a lot more tidy because it is A MESS right now, and I want it to be easier to find everything I have written before adding more to the chaos.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra  @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind  @multifandomheathenannie  @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce

[drvscarlett]

Let Him Cook Pt 3

Charles Leclerc x MasterChef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3

Taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minkyungseokie @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej

"I honestly can't believe that this is actually happening"you told Charles as you sit down on your couch with your laptop.

The past few days have been a lot of preparation for the three most important dish of your life. You have been replicating and timing yourself to make sure that you are a perfectly well-oiled machine during the competition proper.

Charles is currently in Abu Dhabi for the final race which is a complete bummer. He wanted to be there but work is work. So that's why he spends most of his available time doing a facetime with you. It was pretty helpful since his conversations with you helps soothe your nerve and helps avoid overthinking the whole process.

"You got this mon amour. You know I always believed in you since day 1" Charles grinned.

"I really hope that everything goes well tomorrow"

"It will and I will be watching all the way from Yas Marina to hear that my girlfriend is a MasterChef winner"Charles proudly states "I'm really getting so excited, is this how you feel when you watch me race?"

You laughed "Oh mon ami, you are much more stressful to watch with your high speed corners and those wet race misshaps"

"But doesn't this technically make me your WAG if you win? Don't they have WAG gossip accounts that I could be part in?"

It was moments like this that Charles made everything lighter by focusing on trivial things. It helps a lot with the building pressure that everyone has been placing on your shoulder.

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Y/NCooks the boyfriend is so supportive. I'm pretty excited for today!

Gordongram goodluck Y/N! Boyfriend reveal when you win?

User1 Gordon is so real for that Y/NCooks thanks Chef! Lets see???

User2 win or lose, you already made it Y/N!

User3 its just so wholesome to see how Y/N keeps the relationship private but never secret. I ship them so much

User4 i don't know if i want to be Y/N or I want to be her boyfriend

User5 goodluck Y/N! Get that trophy!

Final episode.

Former contestants lined up at the balcony with some of your friends and close relatives. It was a very surreal moment because you used to watch this sitting in the comforts of your own home and now you are actually the one being watched.

The moment that the clock starts ticking, you started to work. There was no room for any delays today as you were creating dishes after dishes. You have to use your time wisely so that you can finish the dishes you have in mind.

"Charles, were going out to drink, are you coming?"

"You guys go ahead, I'm going to watch something" The minute that the cars were back in the garage and the ceremony was over, Charles couldn't wait to go back to his hotel room. He was to turn on his TV to watch the live broadcast of the MasterChef Australia.

He was just on time with the last five minutes of the appetizer round, technically he haven't miss much. You were focused in tasting everything and ensuring that all the flavors are there. You plated really well and it shows how much you have grown. Charles is extremely proud of you.

"Aren't you a little worried to be working on the octopus so early on?" the judges wondered. The judges were currently tasting the soup that you have given them.

"I know that its a lot of risk but I have to push for it to show my talent"

The judges find the soup beautifully seasoned but their only slight flaw with the dish is that the octopus is a little bit tough due to the water not boiling hot enough. Its that flaw that sets a 2 point difference with your fellow contestant.

Charles could feel his eyes getting heavier from all the events earlier that day but he really wants to stay awake. He believes that Y/N could do it. The main course was a stronger dish for Y/N which is how she tied the score with her fellow contestant.

The dessert is the make and break for Y/N. Charles knew that its also her greatest opponent as you prefer savory over sweet. However, seeing the way that you are cooking right now that you have massively improved your skills in the sweets department.

It was tense as you run back and forth to the freezer to make sure that the pana cotta is chilled enough while you went back to your work station to mix the pot. Charles almost had a headache after seeing you trip over in the last 20 minutes of the session.

But all in all you pulled it off. The dessert was stunning and exquisite as the judges noticed. It was an elevated traditional pana cotta

"I believe we have made a decision and the scores are very very close with each other" one of the judges concluded.

The guests from the balcony went down to join the homecooks and Charles wishes that he could have been there for you. Instead, he records the moment through his phone. The announcement will be here in any seconds now.

"And the MasterChef Australia winner is....."

MasterChefAU just posted a photo.

Liked by Gordongram, Charles_Leclerc, and 670,000 others

MasterChefAU congratulations to Y/NCooks you are the MasterChef Australia winner!

User1 That was worth the wait, Y/NCooks is now a masterchef winner!

User2 she was so brilliant! what a performance!!!

User3 tell me why is Charles Leclerc is in the likes, isn't it like 4am there in Abu Dhabi?? Didn't you just race sir???

User4 Seems like Charles is a fan of MC Australia User5 Answer the crowd Charles_Leclerc User6 Didn't Arthur and Lorenzo guest in MC Australia, they say they are good friends of Y/N User7 That is some interesting information User6

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

liked by MasterChefAU, Charles_Leclerc, and 308,000 others

Y/NCooks I have a new plate!!!!

It was such a wonderful experience to be a part of this kitchen and to win this prestigious award. Thank you so much for all your support and love. This is such a dream come true!!

User1 im so proud of her

User2 Can't wait what's next for you!

Gordongram Well-deserve! You did amazing!

Y/NCooks this means a lot Chef! Thank you for watching

MasterChefAU Our winner!!!!

Charles_Leclerc 🏆❤️

User3 what even is that? you are putting sebastian vettel to shame with your rizz User4 Charles, she has a boyfriend!!!!!!! User5 Bro really thinks he can bag Y/N when he can't even cook Y/NCooks Thank you :')) Charles_Leclerc liked this comment. User6 SHUT UP, CHARLES IS COOKING SOMETHING User7 Silence for Y/N's bf, Charles is coming after your seat!

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Thanksgiving, idiots in love, and unwelcome encounters in the parking lot.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Content Warning! This chapter contains sexual harassment (grabbing at clothes, derogatory name calling).

Thank you so much @hellfire--cult for the adorable Converse divider🥹

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

Thanksgiving Day, 1983

Eddie had a lot of things to worry about today, but right now he was most worried about whether or not the mac & cheese he’d slaved over all morning would taste like shit. 

His sweaty hands clutched the dish towel-wrapped baking dish for dear life and mentally rolled through all of the ingredients he had read on that clipping from the Southern Living magazine he’d grabbed from the grocery store. It wasn’t as if he’d never cooked before- he could make a mean grilled cheese, and if something came in a box he hadn’t found a way to fuck it up yet. This time, however, he’d been a little out of his element. 

Wayne had been excited to finally have a use for the casserole dish that had been sitting in a cabinet unused for so long that Eddie hadn’t even known it existed. Currently, he sat relaxed in the drivers’ seat of his pickup smiling smug as hell even though Eddie had assured him multiple times that he was not about to meet Eddie’s girlfriend… just a friend. 

No matter how much Eddie tried to hammer that point into Wayne’s skull, however, he still smiled that stupid knowing grin every time your name came up in conversation, as if he knew something Eddie didn’t. 

“You seem nervous.” Wayne commented, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead as he lazily turned the truck into your neighborhood. 

Eddie glared at the tin foil topped dish in his lap. “Well, I’ve never made this recipe before, I keep picturing everyone taking a bite and immediately spitting it into their napkins.”

Wayne snorted, shaking his head softly and guiding the steering wheel with one hand. “Son, it’s pasta and cheese. Pretty hard to mess that up too bad.” 

“Yeah, well…” Eddie harrumphed. “I’m sure I found a way somehow.”

Wayne smiled softly at his nephew’s smitten nerves, parking the pickup with a jerky stop at the curb of your house. “505, right? This is the one?”

“Yeah.” 

Watching smugly as Eddie stared out the window at your house, Wayne waited about four seconds before he asked, “Are you gonna get out of the car today, or…?”

Cue the sound of the car door opening and Eddie grumbling a sassy muttered retort of I’m going old man, calm down, or something along those lines. Wayne pretended not to catch it. 

You opened the door before Wayne and Eddie could even get to the door, and when Eddie’s eyes landed on you? His uncle could just tell. The smile that exploded on his nephew’s face was all it took.

“Oh here, let me take that-”

“No, no, it’s fine Ace, I got it.” Eddie reassured you, swooping the casserole dish away from your eager hands. He nodded in Wayne’s direction, directing you to do the same as he introduced the only family member of his that you’d heard of at all in your time as friends. “This is my Uncle Wayne.” 

Your eyes shone, welcoming and warm, and Wayne understood in an instant how you’d had such an effect on Eddie in less than a year. Since he’d started spending time with you, Eddie Munson had become the kind of young man who did his homework without being asked. He’d even gotten a job at the mall of all places and gave a portion of his earnings to his uncle to help with living expenses. 

None of the things Wayne had always loved about Eddie had gone away- the changes he’d seen in his nephew were all additions to a personality that he’d always known would take him far in life if he could just surround himself with those who brought out the best in him. People who saw that spark of Munson Magic and knew how to fan it.

Wayne could now confirm that you were one of those people.

He took your hand in his weathered and wrinkled one, pouring his approval of you into a firm and fatherly handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady.” He gestured to Eddie with a conspiratorial nod. “Nice to put a face to the name, all he does is talk about you.”

“Brrrrr, it’s cold out here!” Eddie interrupted his uncle with a hand on your back to steer you away from Wayne and into the house. “Are you cold? You look cold, we don’t need to stand out here yapping when you’re cold.” 

You smiled, following Eddie’s lead but tossing a look over your shoulder at Wayne like it was a shared secret. 

Eddie had already met your parents, so greetings were warm and familiar once the three of you had reached the foyer. Wayne was introduced to both your mom and dad before your mom noticed Eddie had brought an offering for the table.

“Edward Munson, if I’m about to find out you’re not only a shoe designer but also a cook, I might just have to extend a standing invitation for all future holidays!”

“Shoe designer?” Wayne raised an eyebrow. 

You chuckled, pointing your foot out for him to see your white (now turned a bit duller from wearing them every day) Chuck Taylors, completely covered in idle drawings from Eddie’s inability to sit still. 

Wayne gawked at the artwork on your shoes; he’d always known that Eddie was talented, but this was the first time in a long time that Wayne had really stopped and looked at his nephew’s art. The detail, the use of space and composition- it was clear that Eddie knew not only how to draw, but he had an eye for how to make his art look like it belonged on its canvas. Even otherworldly monsters- sea creatures, dragons, demonic ghouls and ghostly images- looked at home on your well-loved high tops. 

“You drew all this, Ed?”

Eddie smiled shyly, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Ah, they’re just doodles. This one over here figured out I pay better attention in class when I’m doing something with my hands. Helps me listen better.” Finally, his trademark grin reappeared, shyness replaced with snark. “Now I’m the one helping her in class.”

“All the times I’ve had to kick you so you don’t fall asleep in O’Donnell’s beg to differ.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him. This brought a good-natured ripple of laughter from everyone in the room. You all felt it- the ease with which familiarity settled in the air amongst you. Eddie felt it most of all, since he wasn’t quite accustomed to the particular familial feel of it. 

He might have been, once. But it’s been a while. 

A second later and your mom had whisked Eddie into the kitchen to set his dish down on a trivet and sent him into the living room with a steaming cup of wassail in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other.

“There was enough food in there to feed an army,” Eddie said, bemused as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Does she know there are only five of us?” 

You toed off your shoes and let them fall to the ground before crossing your legs up on the green ottoman, fuzzied soft with wear from years of love. You leaned closer to Eddie, eyes fixed on his plate of goodies as you began to pick pieces of fruit and cheese for yourself. 

“Mom grew up with a big family,” you said, popping a juicy red grape into your mouth. “All the family recipes make enough for six at least. She could probably cut the recipes in half… but I think cooking all this food reminds her of home.” you smiled tenderly and shrugged. “We usually freeze the leftovers, but since you and your uncle are here I doubt we’ll even have to open a freezer bag. We’ll just send leftovers home with you!”

Eddie liked the sound of that. 

An hour or so passed before you all sat down to share your meal, and Eddie was amazed how quickly his nerves had dissipated in that time. The two of you sat cozied up on the couch, munching on fruit, cheese and deviled eggs. Your dad had offered Wayne a beer, and the two of them sat watching football in front of the TV until your mom gave the all-call for dinner. 

Everyone loaded up their plates, remarked on how good the food looked, thanked your mom for all of the hard work that went into today’s meal. This was quickly followed by a pointed thank you from your mother to Eddie for the “best mac ‘n cheese I’ve ever had” according to her. He was pretty sure she was just being nice, but he didn’t care. Her smile was still contagious- one of those ‘I love you no matter what’ mom smiles.

He’d forgotten about those.

He’d also forgotten what it was like to sit at a dining room table with more than three people. For a second, he’d been worried that you were all about to hold hands and pray, which wouldn’t have been ideal since all Eddie could remember about the dinner prayer was “bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts,” and he didn’t want to embarrass himself. 

But there wasn’t a prayer. This wasn’t a test he’d forgotten to study for, just a meal where Mom and Dad and Uncle were all happy he was here, happy each other were here. That was new. And when your dad asked Eddie how school was going, for once he had nothing but good things to report. He’d gotten a 95 on his last English test. For the first time since sophomore year, he wasn’t failing a single class. And when your dad said “Glad to hear you’re doing well, son.” Eddie felt you squeeze his thigh lightly, just above his knee. He saw Wayne smiling proudly out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie could get used to this. 

Conversation flowed easily in your family; no one felt the need to talk about the weather or ask arbitrary questions, and thankfully nobody decided that “we should go around the table and all say something we’re thankful for!”. There wasn’t a need for it. None of you needed to say it out loud to know you were all thankful for each other. For this. 

By the time dessert came around, Eddie started to think he might be dreaming. Apparently, you were the one always in charge of dessert in your household. And while he’d grown very acquainted with your chocolate chip cookies, he hadn’t been adequately prepared for your pecan pie. Or your chocolate & peanut butter sheet cake. Or the chocolate pudding/cool whip/cookie crumb whatever-it-was that you’d spooned onto his dessert plate. 

Could a person become delirious after consuming too much sugar? Eddie wasn’t sure if it was sugar that was causing him to start wondering what you’d look like making all these desserts in a kitchen that you both paid rent for, or if that was just him. It was probably the sugar.

As soon as Eddie was shoveling his last bite into his mouth, he was looking over to see if you had any left for him to mooch off of you. Your plate was empty- scraped clean, even- and then you were grabbing his empty plate and standing to take them into the kitchen. Eddie was about to pout when you looked at him knowingly and asked, “You want seconds? I’m getting seconds.”

It wasn’t the sugar. Eddie wanted to know what your signatures looked like together on a lease. And Eddie couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to finally admit to himself that he’d been nursing a crush on you since… when had it started? Eddie wasn’t sure. Somewhere between seventh grade history class and this very moment, he figured. 

He looked up at you from his seat, mouth still stuffed with pie crust and cool whip, and smiled when he noticed how pretty you looked in that sweater you were wearing. It was red- you wore red a lot, he realized. Had you always worn red this often?

You giggled, poking his cheek. “You look like a chipmunk when you smile like that.” 

His eyes followed you as you disappeared into the kitchen, and when Eddie caught a glimpse of the way Wayne was grinning at him? Well, his blush was a deeper shade of scarlet than your sweater.

The smile stayed, though. Even a punch to the jaw couldn’t knock that off Eddie’s face.

“I wanna take you out.” 

It had taken Eddie what felt like ages to finally ask you. You were both at school, and he had been thinking about it and thinking about it and ramping himself for weeks to just grow a pair and ask you. The question had sounded smoother in his head, but now he thought he sounded vaguely frightening- sharper and more desperate than he’d hoped.

You blanched, eyes wide and mouth open to a little “O” shape that made Eddie’s heart flutter. 

You were so cute. How had he ever ignored it?

You grinned a little, “Take me out like… assassination, take me out, or…?” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head, laughing nervously, “I mean like, out. To a place. Or multiple places, if you want.” He was jumpy, his hands switching from his pockets to the strap of his backpack, to his hair, to the fraying edges of the friendship bracelet you’d tied around his wrist in July. 

“So when you say take me out, you mean like… on a date?”

There it was. You’d said it, that word. Date. It was out in the open now. 

You’d put the ball in Eddie’s court, and he should be happy about it. This was how it was supposed to be, right? He needed to be a man, take control, take the lead. But unfortunately, it had taken the majority of his bravery just to initiate this conversation.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

Just like that, he passed the ball to you. Eddie cursed himself, waiting anxiously for your response, completely at your mercy.

You looked down at your shoes covered in his doodles, at the red plaid of your flannel that you wore because you’d bought it in hopes that if he started to associate you with his favorite color, he might like you more. Like you the way you liked him.

You couldn’t say the words either… couldn’t speak them into existence without fear of sounding too desperate, too eager. So instead, you nodded yes to your doodle covered shoes and smiled at the dragon he’d drawn on the left toe.

Eddie beamed- inwardly, of course. Couldn’t let you see exactly how happy he was that you felt the same as him- he needed to be calm, to be cool. Girls liked calm and cool.

 “Then it’s a date, Sweet Tart.” He ached to sling a triumphant arm over your shoulder, but shoved his sweating hands into his pockets instead. 

You snuck a glance at Eddie, your smile refusing to leave no matter how cool you were trying to appear. Be cool, don’t act too desperate, you chided yourself. 

“It’s a date.” you repeated, beaming up at him. “When were you thinking?”

“Well,” Eddie shrugged as you both came to a stop by your locker. “Finals are next week and then we’re off for Christmas break, so I should be able to pencil you in for next Saturday night.” He leaned against the adjacent lockers, a smug smile shining down on you. 

“Pencil me in, huh?” you giggled, replacing the notebooks and folders from your last class with your supplies for the next. “I’m flattered you could fit me into your busy schedule.”

“If there’s one thing my schedule always has room for, it’s you, Ace.” 

Swooning. That was the only word for what those words made you do. You weren’t sure if Eddie was aware of the effect he had on you, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to help it if he was. 

You were actually grateful for your final exams the following week- they gave you something to focus on other than your date with Eddie. Which meant that the moment you’d finished your last exam on Friday, that date was the only thing on your mind.

Your date with Eddie. The words alone were enough to make you smile to yourself. You’d been harboring this crush on him for the better part of this year, and now he asks you on a date? Was it possible that he had felt the same way all this time? 

“You sure you’re cool if I don’t stay for the whole session tonight?” you’d asked Eddie as he’d prepared for Hellfire that afternoon, triple-checking that he wasn’t upset. It had become a routine for the two of you- your weekly presence as the one and only audience member for Hellfire’s in-game escapades. 

“Cool as a cucumber, Ace.” Eddie had replied, “You took three exams today, for crying out loud. Go take a nap.” 

When you finally conceded, he’d walked you from the gameplay table to the door, even going so far as to hold it open for you. Then, to your surprise, he’d taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips. 

“Go rest up.” He’d muttered, low enough so only you could hear. Then he’d brushed his lips against the back of your fingers, and you’d just about melted on the spot. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8, Sweet Tart.”

Your hand still tingled as you thought about the feel of his lips on your skin. Now, you wanted that feeling everywhere. 

Your body was on autopilot as you made your way through the school parking lot; slushed, muddy snow sat piled up in corners and untouched patches at the edges of the lot from the on-again off-again winter precipitation over the December weeks. Your booted feet marched on toward your car, your mind entirely occupied by thoughts of tomorrow. 

You were so distracted by that thought that you didn’t notice who was waiting for you, leaned up against the trunk of your car.

“Hey there, firecracker.” 

You stopped short when your eyes snapped up to see Alan, along with a couple guys from the basketball team. Their faces were pure predatory malice as Alan eyed you up and down. 

You paused a moment, your heart rate picking up a notch when you realized just how empty the parking lot was, given the hour that had passed since the final bell. 

“I have to get home.” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the driver side door and making your best attempt to brush past the jock leaned up directly beside it, but to no avail. 

“Not so fast, you little freak.” Alan stepped into your path, a cruel smile creasing his freckled face. “We just wanted to chat!”

“You,” your voice betrayed every ounce of disbelief that you felt looking up at the meathead blocking your path to your own vehicle. “-want to chat. With me?”

“I know, I know, you’re flattered-”

“I’m not.” 

“Well you should be.” Alan peered down at you with frigid eyes. “Lord knows no guy will ever want to be seen with you now that the Freak’s got his claws in you.” 

You felt a surge of indignant fire seep into your gaze. “Piss off, asshole.” You attempted to shove past him, but Alan took a step toward you, throwing off your balance. You had to grab the bumper of the car beside you to keep from falling over, clutching at the books in your arms to avoid dropping them onto the icy pavement below. 

“I even heard he branded you.” Alan’s hot breath sent an unwelcome shiver over your skin. “Sherrie said she saw you in the locker room with… some kind of symbol… on your upper thigh, I believe?”

A biting breeze whooshed past you, but you didn’t feel it- your body had already gone ice cold. 

“Sherrie’s lying.”

“You know, I don’t think she is.” Alan’s hands crept closer toward you, ghosting fingertips across the fabric of your skirt. “But if you want to prove it to us…”

You felt your stomach drop when one of Alan’s friends stepped behind you, boxing you in. They were like vultures- to them, you were already down for the count. Ready to be picked at and preyed upon.

Slapping Alan’s hand away, you attempted once again to squeeze past him and his goons, anxious for the safety of your driver’s seat and a locked door between you and them. Unfortunately, Alan had other plans. 

“Come on,” he crooned, “girls don’t get tattoos unless they want people to see them. Go ahead and show us.”

“Go. Away.” you gritted through your teeth. 

“The Freak’s seen it, hasn't he?” Alan pressed, his hand grasping the fabric of your skirt in his fist. “What, you’ll slut yourself out for him, but not us?”

“What the fuck are you dickheads doing?” 

You’d never been so thankful to hear Robin’s voice in your life. 

Alan sneered at the unfamiliar sophomore, subtly letting go of your skirt. “Who the hell are you?” 

Robin marched up to the boy standing behind you, powering her glare with just enough ferocity that he actually moved aside. Grabbing your shoulders, Robin pulled you a good five feet from Alan and looked you square in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, pulling your car keys from the pocket of your backpack. You were anxious for something tangible to fidget with, something to ground you in where you stood, away from Alan and his wandering hands.

Once she was sure you were alright, Robin turned the full force of her fury on the boys that stood around your car. 

“Mr. Dunne was right behind me on his way out here, so unless you want me to tell him that I just found you groping a female student, I suggest you scram.” 

You saw Alan weighing his options for a moment, but eventually he stuck his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket and- thankfully- took his leave. 

“Whatever, freaks.” he muttered, strolling away like a brat who had grown up believing himself to be invincible in a system that agreed with him.  

It wasn’t until the two of you were both sitting in your car and safe behind locked doors that you finally let out the breath you’d evidently been holding. “Fuck him.” you huffed. “Fuck. Him.”

“Fuck him.” Robin agreed with an emphatic nod of her head. “Has he ever even talked to you before? That seemed… super random, honestly, I’ve never even seen him look in your direction.” 

“I may have picked a fight with him after I heard him call Eddie and I freaks in class not too long ago.” you winced, remembering how brazen you’d been that day… you’d been so bold, so fearless, but that girl was nowhere to be seen today. Instead, you’d frozen like a cornered fox surrounded by hounds. It made you feel so small, you thought you might be sick. You hated feeling this way.

“Apparently,” you continued, “his girlfriend saw my tattoo in the locker room. He said he wanted to see it for himself.” 

Robin had been the first person- and only person- you’d shown your little bat to after Halloween. She’d been pretty impressed… after she’d stopped worrying about it getting infected, of course. 

“First- ew. Gross.” Robin grimaced. “Second- are you telling me you just change in the locker room with that thing out in the open?” 

“I’m usually super careful about keeping it hidden!” you argued, “But it is a possibility that I might have been a little rushed to get to my next class at some point… I guess I wasn’t careful enough.”

A short silence settled while you mentally kicked yourself. I should have known this would happen. How could I be so careless? 

“Well,” Robin started, suddenly chipper. You knew this tone; she was about to try and cheer you up. Good luck, Rob. 

“You’re going to drive me to your house and then we’re baking cookies and watching whatever movie you want.” 

While you were still far from what you would consider over what just happened, your interest was definitely piqued. “Whatever movie I want?” you countered. 

Robin sighed. “I know what you’re about to ask, and yes, we can watch The Dark Crystal.”

The beginnings of a smile stretched across your face. “And you won’t call any of the puppets creepy at any point?”

“Let’s not go that far.” she deadpanned. “I will watch it, I will eat cookies, and I will not suggest that we turn it off before the movie is over. This is my final offer.”

For Robin, that was a pretty good deal. Your beginnings of a grin had graduated to a full-on smile as you took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “You’re a good friend.”

She returned your smile, and squeezed your hand back before letting go to buckle her seatbelt. “I’m a great friend. Now start driving, I’m hungry and we’re stopping for french fries.”

Part 7

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @sadlittlesquish, @clarafornerlyknownasclaire-blog , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight, @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult

I added a few people to the taglist who’ve shown an interest in the series or have been my sounding boards during the writing process for this story. Hope y’all don’t mind!😊❤️

[ooouuunahnah]

A scenario where your pro hero husband Izuku refuses to let you go on about your day before getting you in ✨bed✨

Pt 1.

It’s been three days. Only three! You won’t deny that you miss Izuku but this is ridiculous. The weekend is usually the time you and your pro hero husband can relax and breathe each others air for more than 30mins without being interrupted. But this weekend in particular you’ve both been uncharacteristically preoccupied with everything in your lives but your marriage. Izuku misses you, and you miss him just the same but this is absurd ; the love of your life is sitting on the hood of your car cross legged, hands in his lap, and patiently waiting for you to get out and lay one on him as you promised to do last night. But that was before he decided he needed to stay in his office after hours on a weekend no less. Disappointed you had forced away the ache in between your thighs and the longing in your heart to be held by your husband as you went to sleep. When morning came he was fast asleep beside you and as much as you wanted to cuddle up in his embrace, you had an agenda to follow for the day and could not be dismayed . You were almost out the door when your drowsy husband all but tackled you, spewing apologies from his lips for staying in his office late and begging you to allow him to make it up to you.

That was 30mins ago. You’re running behind schedule because your husband is being childish.

Exasperated you pointlessly ask, “Izuku please move.” You might as well had been talking to a brick wall, you’ve been doing this for past 20 minutes. He stares at you and with all seriousness and says “Y/n, if you don’t get out of the car I’m going to crush it; and then you can spend the rest of your day taking a Uber around the city.” You narrow your gaze at him, “You wouldn’t.” “Try me.”, he replies. Holding your gaze he lifts his finger towards the sky while you see green sparks flying around him. He takes his pointed finger and effortlessly starts to press it through the hood of your car. You sit up panic laced in your voice as you plead with your irrational husband. “Okay! Okay stop! I’m getting out of the car.” He gives you a victorious smile knowing you’ll comply for the sake of your baby (the car he bought you for your first anniversary). With a frustrated sigh you exit your now dented car slamming the door behind you and you catch a look at your giddy husband making his way off the hood of your baby. The dimple that only comes out when he smiles is so adorable that you want to smack it off his face for distracting you from your anger for even a second. Not giving him a second look you infuriatingly stomp back to your shared apartment with a satisfied husband on your trail.

Pt2 here

Sooo how’d I do for my first piece of literature?? Plz let me know I can handle constructive criticism😭 if yall like it I’ll drop the part 2 with smut bc I know yall like that 😂 ~𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇－𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 17

Late one evening, shortly before Christmas of 1966, Matt rapped lightly on my door and called, “Sattnin, I have to talk to you.” We had a password. Teasingly, I told him he’d have to utter it before I’d admit him. He laughed and said, “Fire Eyes”—the nickname I gave him when he was angry.

He had his old boyish grin on his face and his hands were behind his back. “Sit down, Baby, and close your eyes.”

I did. When I opened my eyes, I found Matt on his knees before me, holding a small black velvet box.

“Baby,” he said.

I opened the box to find the most beautiful diamond ring I’d ever seen. It was three and a half karats, encircled by a row of smaller diamonds, which were detachable—I could wear them separately.

“We’re going to be married,” Matt said. “You’re going to be mine. I told you I’d know when the time was right. Well, the time’s right.”

He slipped the ring on my finger. I was too overwhelmed to speak; it was the most beautiful and romantic moment of my life.

Our love would no longer be a secret. I’d be free to travel openly as Mrs. Matt Sturniolo without the fear of inspiring some scandalous headline. Best of all, the years of heartaches and fears of losing him to one of the many girls who were always auditioning for my role were over.

He was in a rush to show the ring to his father and Grandma and to tell them that we were officially engaged. I didn’t even have a chance to get dressed. Considering our irregular life-style, getting engaged in my dressing room and showing off my beautiful diamond while dressed in a terrycloth robe didn’t strike us as at all odd.

I wanted to share the great news with my parents, but he suggested we wait until we returned to L.A. a few weeks later. Then we could tell them in person; they deserved that consideration. That night, we called my parents and invited them to spend a weekend with us in Bel Air.

On the day they were due to arrive, Matt was as excited as I’d ever seen him. He kept looking out the window, watching for their car. He was dying to show them the ring and almost did the moment they walked in the door, but I managed to keep my hand behind my back until we were all settled on the sofa. The second we were seated, he pulled my hand from behind me and said to my parents, “Well, we just wanted to show you this.”

“What is it?” my father asked, peering at my hand.

“Well, sir, that’s an engagement ring.”

Tears trembled in my mother’s eyes. “My God,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

They were both ecstatic. We loved letting them know that what they’d so long hoped and prayed for had now come to pass. We emphasized the importance of keeping our announcement a secret, asking them to maintain strict confidence even within the immediate family, since the kids might tell their friends at school and then word would be out. We wanted a private wedding, not a celebrity event. My parents agreed with all the plans. They couldn’t have been happier, and all weekend they beamed with pleasure.

In the five years I’d lived with Matt, I would rarely let them discuss marriage with Matt. The possibility of their daughter being hurt was foremost in my parents’ minds. Now they no longer had to worry whether they’d made the right decision in allowing me to leave home at such a young age.

I know that Colonel William asked him to take a long look at our relationship and decide where he wanted it to go. Matt’s attitude toward marriage was that it was final. Although he was monogamous by nature, he loved options. Still, he wasn’t about to let me go. Curiously enough, after his talk with Colonel, it didn’t take him long to decide the time was ripe.

It was his decision and his alone.

In our excitement we made the rest of our plans for the wedding ceremony. It was suggested I find a dress immediately, the reason being that if the news leaked out, we could get married at a moment’s notice. But my search for a wedding dress ended up taking months. Disguised in dark glasses and a hat, I shopped every exclusive boutique from Boston to L.A. where, despite my disguise, I was paranoid enough to think people recognized me. I even spoke with several seamstresses about designs but I didn’t trust them enough to tell them it was for a wedding dress.

Finally someone suggested a little out-of-the-way shop in L.A. Charlie escorted me, posing as my fiancé, and it was here that I found my wedding dress. It wasn’t extravagant, it wasn’t extreme—it was simple and to me beautiful.

I glided out of the dressing room to model it for Charlie, and when he saw me, his eyes filled with tears. “You look beautiful, y/nn,” he said, and whispered, “He’ll be so proud of you.”

It was the February after our engagement. We were driving near Horn Lake, Mississippi, when we spotted a beautiful ranch—one hundred sixty acres of rolling hills. A herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle was grazing. There was a bridge across a little lake, a barn with stalls for horses, and a charming house situated in a prime location. It was for sale.

This was my perfect dream house. I fell in love with it and began to picture Matt and me living there alone. It was small enough for me to handle myself. I could clean it and take care of Matt, bringing him his breakfast in bed in the mornings as he gazed out at the gentle view of Rising Sun grazing in the pastures.

I thought of this ranch as a wonderful way for us to get away from Graceland from time to time. I pictured us saddling our own horses and riding in the early morning or at dusk. My picture was of us alone, without an entourage.

We were determined to buy it, never foreseeing the burden it would become. He wanted the ranch as much as I did, even though James said that at $500,000 it was overpriced. He felt the owner could offer a much more desirable deal and tried to persuade us that financially it was not a good move. Matt’s movies were continuing to decline in popularity and record sales were down. He was averaging a million dollars a film and the money was going out as quickly as it was coming in. Yet Matt’s mind was made up. He wanted it.

James grudgingly went to the bank to borrow money, putting Graceland up as collateral. We bought the entire ranch as was, including cattle and equipment, and christened it the Circle G for Graceland.

We had eighteen horses by then, and all were transferred to the ranch as was the staff of nine. It was the heyday of the commune, but Matt had his own idea about how he wanted us all to live. Since the house on the property was small, he bought individualized mobile homes and designated one to each family. James worked diligently to get permission from the city to put gas and water on the ranch.

“Whatever it takes, do it,” Matt ordered.

Before long, tons of cement were being poured to make the huge concrete foundations for the trailers. It didn’t stop there. He bought El Caminos or Ranchero trucks for each family, even one for the plumber and another for the painter. He spent at least $100,000 on trucks alone.

He continued spending money as if it were going out of style. Alarmed, James literally begged him to stop, but Matt said, “I’m having fun, Dad, for the first time in ages. I’ve got a hobby, something I look forward to gettin’ up in the mornin’ for.”

It wasn’t unusual to see him walking around the property, knocking on doors, waking everyone up, or checking on the horses in the early-morning hours. He was having a ball, and there were days he didn’t even want to take time out to eat—he’d walk around with a loaf of bread under his arm in case hunger pangs struck. He loved shopping in Sears’s basement, buying power tools, knives, flashlights, and other equipment that he would come bearing proudly back to the ranch.

That spring of 1967, we spent a lot of time there, sometimes staying as long as two weeks without returning to Graceland. On Sundays we had picnics and all the girls chipped in on potluck, bringing chicken baskets, cookies, and salads. We rode horses, held skeetshooting contests, and combed the lake for turtles and snakes. There was fun, laughter, and a lot of camaraderie. Once again, our life was a group affair with everyone participating.

Even in my tiny house there’d be guests for dinner every night, usually single guys like Steven and Charlie. Cooking for Matt was easy: I’d just take whatever we were having and burn it. But there were so many others that his cousin Patsy would usually stop by to help me. The guys with wives would have dinner in their mobile homes and then come over for dessert and spend the rest of the evening with us.

There was always a lot of jamming. Matt, Steven Wright, and Charlie Hodge would get together in the middle of the room, harmonizing a favorite song. When they were really going good Matt would yell, “Whew! Hot damn! One more time!” He’d sometimes spend an hour just on an ending because it had “the feel—the ingredients of a masterpiece.”

Just as the entourage had followed us to the ranch, so did the curious. The same ones who gathered around Graceland started turning up at the Circle G and soon—day or night—scores of people were lined up along the fence. Since our little house stood in full view of the road, Matt built a ten-foot-high wall, but nothing deterred them; now they began climbing on tops of cars and roofs of nearby homes. We couldn’t get away from them, and I dreaded driving through the gates.

The dream was slowly turning into a nightmare. The wives wanted to get back to their homes, and the children wanted to get back to their friends and their schools.

Matt liked it when everyone was together on terms he alone specified—and he got upset when they wanted to leave. “Hell, I bought all this stuff,” he said, “and everyone wants to go home.” He resented defections; he’d given the employees everything and they didn’t seem to appreciate it. He discovered that some of the regulars were selling their trucks. They needed the cash more than the El Caminos. Matt couldn’t imagine the financial struggle most people face and he never understood that the married regulars had to consider responsibilities to their wives and children.

Still, he enjoyed giving and sharing even as his own bank account was radically diminishing. An expensive hobby, the ranch had already cost him close to a million dollars and created a serious cash-flow problem. In daily phone calls to the Colonel, James pleaded with him to come up with some work to divert Matt from his spending spree. The Colonel promptly made arrangements for another movie, Clambake. Matt read the script, yet another beach-and-bikini story, and hated it.

James convinced him he didn’t have much choice. “We need the money, Son.” And Matt was committed.

“I don’t wanna leave here, y/nn,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you, the ranch, Sun. Ain’t no son of a bitch gonna keep me away long. That goes for Dad, Colonel, the studios—no one. Their little plot to keep me from spending money ain’t gonna work. If I need money, I’ll go to Nashville and record a few songs. It’ll be better than those lousy goddamn pictures.”

Neither he nor James ever considered turning the Circle G into a profit-making operation. All the necessities for a successful farm were present—tractors, feed, and the finest Santa Gertrudis cattle, bred on the Rockefeller ranch—but he sold the cattle after James advised him that upkeep was too expensive. With professional financial counsel, Matt might have pursued legitimate business ventures beneficial to him and his hobby.

Unfortunately, James and Matt were leery of business matters requiring financial advice. James operated on pure instinct, refusing any suggestion of tax breaks, which he found too complicated to consider. He let the IRS figure Matt’s taxes and had done so ever since Matt had been audited while in the Army and assessed eighty thousand dollars in back taxes.

“Let’s just pay the taxes, Dad,” Matt said. “I make enough money. I’ll make a million dollars and I’ll give them half.”

It was during the filming of Clambake that our lease on the house on Perugia Way in Los Angeles expired and we had to go looking for a new home. After our experience at the Circle G, we were concerned with protecting our privacy, and when we spotted a secluded home nestled against a hill in Bel Air, we thought we’d found sanctuary at last. But privacy was to elude us here as well.

Soon, hundreds of people began collecting on the mountain road directly above us and observing the view below through binoculars and telephoto lenses. We could no longer use our pool, patio, or driveway without looking up at an audience, including reporters and photographers who were having a field day trying to get candid photos and scoops.

The situation occasionally got out of hand. One night when Matt went to Mount Washington to talk with Daya Mata and I was driving to Amber Doe’s (Nate’s wife) for a visit, I noticed a car with bright headlights tailgating me. It was one of Matt’s most ardent fans, a two hundred-pound female who was accompanied by another girl and a guy. Feeling unsafe, I decided to turn around and go home. She followed close all the way and by the time I drove through the gates, I was furious.

Seeing her drive up to the dead-end road above our house, I sped after her, parking my car broadside across the road, blocking her. She was standing beside her car when I strode up and demanded: “What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” She stood there mutely and again I demanded: “Why are you following me?”

“You whore,” she snapped.

Incensed, I clenched my fist and swung an uppercut, hitting her in the face. She landed on the ground, spread-eagled and stunned. I landed on her and the two of us yelled, screamed, and pulled hair until I realized I needed help. I ran back to our front gate and yelled into the intercom, “Someone—Sonny, Jerry—come help me!”

Within seconds Matt came flying out of the house with the guys close behind him. “What is it, Baby?”

When I explained, pointing to the ridge, Matt went charging up the hill. Seeing him coming, the girl and her friends locked themselves in her car. Matt was livid, lifting the car on its springs, bouncing it from side to side. He pounded the windshield, threatening to kill them if he ever got his hands on them or if they ever laid their hands on me.

“I’m underage! I’m underage!” she kept yelling. “I’ll sue you if you touch me.”

It took a lot of convincing from Sonny that she was more trouble than it was worth before Matt would let her drive away.

Matt was so despondent over Clambake that his weight ballooned from his usual 170 to 200 pounds by the time he reported for work. The studio ordered him to take the weight off—and fast. Enter the diet pills, the only way he could curb his appetite and reduce his weight in the short time allowed. Colonel managed to deal with the impatient studio brass.

The morning he was to begin shooting he awoke groggy and went into the bathroom while I was still in bed. I heard a loud thump, then cursing. “Goddamn motherfucking cord! Who the hell put this thing here?”

I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, calling out, “What’s happened?” He was lying on the floor, rubbing his head.

“I tripped over the goddamn TV cord. It was so damned dark in here I didn’t see it. Help me out of here—I have to lie down.”

Although he was dizzy and off balance, we managed to make it to the bed. Feeling a big lump on his head, I called Nate Doe at once, who summoned Colonel William and a doctor. Within minutes, the room was full of people—the doctor, his nurse, Colonel William, and several nervous studio executives. Colonel suggested that everyone but himself wait outside while the doctor made his diagnosis.

A few hours later it was announced that Matt had a severe brain concussion and that the start of his film would be delayed indefinitely. The Colonel decided to use the accident to curtail some of Matt’s other activities. He wanted Matt to abandon his involvement with esoteric philosophies, which the Colonel felt were irrelevant to Matt’s acting career and detrimental to clear thinking.

Matt’s spiritual quest hadn’t gone unnoticed. Everyone from the entourage to film crews was aware of a change in his personality over the years he’d studied with Larry Geller. Matt’s vibrant personality was now passive and he was becoming more introverted. The mischievous games he’d once played on movie sets had been superseded by studious pursuits. Matt buried his head in books that he diligently lugged to and from the studio every day.

The person most concerned about this change was Colonel William. The Colonel felt that Larry’d hypnotized Matt, and his acting and recording careers were suffering as a result. Matt’s “concussion” provided an opportunity to put a halt to the soul-searching.

A few days after the accident, the Colonel gathered Matt and the boys together for a meeting and told them they were burdening Matt with too many problems. “Dealing with one person is one thing,” he said, “but eleven, plus his own problems, is enough for any man to buckle under.”

The Colonel told them that there were going to be some changes, from cutting back the payroll to taking problems to Nate instead of Matt. His basic message was: Leave Matt alone.

“Matt should concentrate on his career,” he said. “He’s an artist, not a shoulder to cry on. Leave him alone, and let him do his work.” The Colonel looked over at Larry; it was obvious that his message was primarily aimed at him. “I don’t want him reading any more books and getting involved in things that clutter up his mind.”

Matt sat and listened like an obedient child, looking down, saying nothing. He did not stand up for Larry; no one did.

Later the Colonel told Matt that he should get Larry out of his life, that Larry used some sort of technique to manipulate his thinking. Matt argued that this wasn’t the case. He was truly interested in his readings.

“You wouldn’t be in this condition if your head was on straight,” shouted the Colonel.

“I’m telling you, Larry’s jamming up your mind.”

I was surprised at how attentively Matt was listening. Matt had always argued with anyone, even me, who said anything against Larry. At one point; it seemed Matt would cut off his right arm for Larry. But now Matt promised the Colonel he wouldn’t spend any more time than he had to with him. He kept his promise. He only used Larry to style his hair and was never alone with him again.

After that meeting, the boys became openly hostile toward Larry, and even Matt began making a few pointed remarks about him. Larry was now the outsider, and he eventually left. Colonel William was elated. His boy was back.

Matt was ready for a major change and it was time to move on. The Colonel said his films were doing badly and he had to revitalize his career. He’d be getting married soon, and before that date he’d have to get his career and life back on track.

After Larry left, Matt locked away many of his books. I told him I was glad, that they were literally destroying us. We were engaged to be married. “Would it make you feel better if I just got rid of them all?” Matt asked. I nodded.

That night, at three in the morning Matt and I piled a huge stack of his books and magazines into a large box and dumped them into an abandoned water well behind Graceland. We poured gasoline over the pile, lit a match, and kissed the past goodbye.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - engaged!!🎀

[gemmahale]

Gemma's NaClYoHo 2024

I had too much free time on my hands this morning and I wanted a repository for all the posts I make beyond just scrolling the hashtag #Gemma's NaClYoHo.

What is NaClYoHo? National Clean Your House month. Spearheaded by @copperbadge, the intent is to do something for your household - chores, tasks, even life-related things like calling for appointments - every day of the month of November.

In Sam's words:

The goal of "NaClYoHo" is not actually to end up with a clean home; it's to spend the month of November addressing what you’d like to change about your living space.

For Kallen and I, a lot of this is going to be the maintenance tasks we've put off around the house. Being full time employed (me) and self-employed and disabled (him), a lot of things have been pushed off to "later." And later has become now.

There will be routine tasks sprinkled in here too (laundry, dishes, gathering trash, etc). We're making a wish list of things to purchase to improve spaces (shelves, bins, etc.) and will add those in as budget allows.

We're listening to the podcast Victoria's Lift while we do things. (Unless it's too loud, in which case...tbd.) I'm excited, because it's just enough spoop to keep me intrigued but not enough to wig me out. The podcast's description:

Part Twilight Zone but wholly unique, Victoria's Lift is an ongoing audio drama featuring a mysterious girl who guides visitors to their transformations. A dark place whose original luster is now lost to time, the unlikely, old Victorian building sits overlooked by most on the edge of Pittsburgh. Originally built as a luxury residence for some of the city’s most well to do residents, it now serves a different purpose. Within its dilapidated walls sits Victoria's Lift. Step inside and ride it to the floor chosen for your transformation.

But I'd really like to see:

Appliance maintenance performed

The garage I park my car in sorted

The kitchen functional and organized

The depot (Kallen's shop) functional - front half minimum

The storage space/laundry room downstairs better organized

My future office cleared and ready for furniture

Kallen's office reorganized

Kallen's printer room (idk what we're calling this room; it's half storage half 3D printer stuff) sorted

General house pick-up (this is mostly on me, the yarnie lol)

My yarn all catalogued and sorted (this one's an ambitious one)

The Daily Posts!

Day 1 - No post, rest (we didn't get home until after 8pm and were exhausted) Day 2 - laundry, dishwasher, trash, picking up Day 3 - Rest (I got my vaxxes and I went down like a rock) Day 4 - Laundry Day 5 - Bust. Day 6 - Emotional resting Day 7 - Waiting Day 8 - Grief Day 9 - Shopping Day 10 - Shelf building in laundry room Day 11 - Veteran's Day Day 12 - All day seminar Day 13 - Incoming

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

I am watching Daisy Jones & the Six rn, a fictional band which was really popular in the 70s but had a fallout and no one answered why, until 20 years later when they interview the band members and people involved with them, a documentary of sorts.

And I love that sort of thing.

So, idea: Bruce was a brilliant scientist and one day, he disappeared from the face of the earth (on the day of the gamma bomb test). They make a documentary about Bruce Banner in the 80s/90s.

None of his still living family members wanted to participate.

They pull in some other people.

Elementary school teacher: "He was gifted from a young age. Always on top of his class. Could read before he was four years old. But he wasn't really sociable. He didn't have any friends, no. The other kids quickly saw him as a target and ganged up on him."

"It was usually his mom who picked him up. Brian Banner, his father, was known to... Not be a pleasant person. A very angry and also insecure man.”

Former neighbor, “The neighborhood wasn't really a community. Except for church services, maybe. But yeah, you could hear screams from the Banner house very often. Mr and Mrs Banner went out a lot and the boy stayed with the Nanny. Highly unpleasant person as well. You didn't see her often but you knew that you just didn't want to talk with her.”

Bartender, “Brian Banner was a regular. Nobody liked him because he got really aggressive when drunk. And loud. He would often complain about his son, making claims about him being a monster. It was at these moments I was glad he was at the bar instead of at home.”

Former neighbor: “Rebecca did sport a black eye every now and then, no amount of make-uo was going to conceal that. Plus she wore long-sleeved shirts even in summer. She was a good woman. She didn't deserve what happened to her. But yes, the clues that something like this could happen were there.”

Reporter: “What happened?”

Police Officer #1: “We got a call. An accident with one person dead. We arrived at the scene and we all knew that this was no accident.”

Police Officer #2: “He was still kneeling beside her bleeding body. His hands, his face, his clothes, they were all covered in blood. I gave him a blanket, guided him away to our car. He didn't show any signs of emotions. But tears were running down his face. Suddenly, he said ‘She didn’t slip. "He killed her’.”

Police Officer #3: “I remember him. I couldn't ever forget that case. I was with him at the station while we waited for his aunt. He was sitting there all alone, wrapped in a blanket so I decided to get him a hot chocolate. You could see that he had it tough in life. There were bruises on his arms, some handshapped. I brought the hot chocolate over to him and he was holding out his arm. Was muttering something along the lines of ‘I can't find it’. I never understood it.”

Reporter: “You were his middle school teacher?”

Teacher #1: “Yes, I was.”

Reporter: “What do you remember about him?”

Teacher #1: “He was a real troublemaker. Not because of his grades, but he would cause scenes because he only ever wanted to work alone, which backfired multiple times. And his constant mumbling!”

Reporter: “Mumbling?”

Teacher: “Yes! He would talk to himself so often, even during class! And then he had the audacity to not even pay attention to the lesson!”

Schoolmate #1: “I was in the same class as him.”

“Ohh, yes, he mumbled to himself so often! Not even himself, his imaginary friend. Imaginary friend! We were teenagers and the guy still had an imaginary friend. Probably because no one else would willingly spend time with him.”

“Hulk. He always called him Hulk, yeah. Even wrote that name down in his notebook he always carried around.”

“He had this notebook and he would write in it whenever he could. Even during class.”

“I don't know what he wrote in it anymore. Some sort of equations.”

Carla, schoolmate: “He stepped in when Ken, the school bully, harrassed me. He didn't have to do that, but he did anyway.”

“Well, they… they beat him up. He had to go to the hospital. Broken ribs. But once he came back, he asked me if I was okay!”

“What I said? Erm, stuff I regret saying. I don't want to talk about it. We were teenagers and I had a lot to deal with already. I had my own insecurities and your reputation was really important back in school. It wasn't fair, yes, but I was just a girl.”

“He was a good person. Sure, he was weird, but he did not deserve to be bullied. Nobody does.”

Reporter: “How do you know Bruce Banner?”

Former college student #1: “We were roommates during college.”

Reporter: “What was he like?”

Former college student #1: “Smart. Passionate. Awkward. He was great at what he did, a real favorite amongst teachers. He studied with Stoddard, another gamma scientist. Stoddard was always jealous of Banner, because he worked much harder but Banner was the one who got all the praise.”

“It wasn't that Banner was lazy, he was just a genius who just instantly understood everything it seemed. When he had a problem, he would immediately try to solve it.”

Reporter: “How do you know Bruce Banner?”

“We were friends during college.”

“We had a study group in college and we would spend the weekends together too sometimes.”

“We were all nerds, which is why it was so easy to talk together. The rest? They didn't understand us. But we understood each other.”

Former college student #3: “We had fun sharing our interests, sharing knowledge, getting into rambles, going into hypothetical scenarios.”

Former college student #2: *rubbing the back of his neck* “What we would do in our free time together? Ehh.”

Former college student #3: “Drugs.”

Former college student #2: “It was the 70s and burnt out college students. I’m sure that’s all that you need.”

Former college student #1: “Once, I hadn't seen him for three days. I didn't think much of it until he came back. He looked really shaken up and spaced-out. Told me he was at a cafe three towns over. Apparently he had no idea how he got there and just walked back.”

“If he went to parties? Usually not. Except when he did. See, most of the time he was really timid. He was sure of himself, but still introverted. But when he did go out? The guy went all the way. Would even ask me if I wanted to come with him, which I declined. He was like a completely different person.”

Former college student #2: “We had a great time together. Parties were so fun! He really knew how to charm the ladies. It was like Clark Kent and Superman, one second an unassuming guy, the next, he knew how to read the room and what to say to people to get what he wants as if he could read their minds.”

Former college student #3: “Sometimes we would drive to a casino, he would make some money and afterwards we would get something to eat.”

Former college student #2: “And sometimes… Sometimes it seemed more like possession than a superpower. I remember one time we were in the car, mentally not 100% present and he asked really panicked ‘Where am I? How did I get here?’. And that whole confident demeanor? It was gone.”

Former college student #1: “Yes, this was not the only occurrence. Sometimes he would become… childish? He would talk in a few word sentences. I blamed it on sleep deprivation but when I asked him about it, he told me he didn't remember.”

Journalist: “What happened after Dr. Banner’s college time is mostly speculation. What we do know is that he tried to get funding for his research but was declined. As to what his idea consisted of, we have no idea. Eventually he would join the government and this was the last officially known thing about him. His contact with friends and family members became less and less. Of course, he had co-workers that would probably know more, but even the ones working with him are mostly classified and the ones we do know of were unable to be contacted. Eventually a missing person report was filed - and immediately closed. Did he die? Is he held captive? Did he see something he was not supposed to see? As of now, we don't have the answers. But there is hope that we one day will.”

[p0gue-m0h0n3]

"Piñatas and Piranhas"

In 2010, I started a new job as Life Enrichment Manager for a senior living Corp. Darlene, the Buisness office manager, went out of her way to make me feel welcome. We'd spend our lunch hour getting to know each other better, and discussing improvements we hoped to make on the campus. It was during our lunch chats, that Darlene shared, that in just one week, she would be going in for a major surgery.

The she left for medical leave… I saw her walking to her car, gave her a big, one-armed wave and for some reason (still unknown to me need anything at all, just holler, I'll be there in a flash!

Two days lasted, I recieved a call from a very groggy Darlene. When you said to call youif I needed ,help... did you really mean good help with ANYTHING? Staying true to my word, YES! ABSOLUTELY! I watched the the worried look rapidy melt from her face.

OH,THANK GOD!!! I can't kero up with n⁸[o puppies are driving me nuts. Could you pleeeaaasse take them until I'm released? "

Why this didn't seem like a favor at all, caring for 9-6 week old pugs!!! I imagined myself on the floor covered in adorable tail waggers who looked like one had chased a parked car, and the remaining 8 followed suit. THE PUPPY BREATH...Ohhh, the puppy breath and those adorable pug puppy sounds…I couldn't wait to get them home to snuggle them!!

NOPE! NONE OF THE ABOVE HAPPENED!!

It was like hosting a birthday party for 9 baby piranhas, where every 3 hours I had to skillfully wade thru the frenzy of yippy and extremely zippy, little ankle biting guests, I'm order to hang the party piñata! Which, by the way, had the added duty of sitting on a hard stool for a minimum of half hour, waiting for each one to crap before the ding of the bell and the piranha pug wrestling pro championships began. If I missed even 1 squatter, it meant baths for all!!

ON WEEK 3, I upped my Xanax prescription to Anna Nicole Smith level, bought 2 tiny wading pools (one for intake… one for outpoo-t), which did solve 2 of the 1,796,857 other issues, from PEWEES PUGTOP PLAYHOUSE, ranging from nooo sleep, to no sex, because my husband, apparently makes mother pug noises during coitus, triggering all nine to cry, then poop, then wrestle in the poop, aaaaaannnd you know the rest. This unraveling series of unfortunate dog domino events, had profound ability to instantly trigger the realtion of the passion of foreplay to the image of an 11pm poo party mop up. Resulting in an emphatic "NO!" when my husband dared to develop even a single sparkle in his eye!

FINALLY.....week six had arrived, and it was pick up day at Pissy Missy's piranha-dog daycamp. I practically threw all 9 yapping bandits, like snowballs at a mean kid on Christmas break, in desperation to get them in her car fast enough.

Darlene gasped, and softly slapped her hands on her face, with mouth opened in awe. She marveled at how much they'd grown since she'd last seen them. She quietly squeeled while spewing the science behind their fast bellies and healthy glow, "they only do this well while in the cage of someone who obviously LOVED caring for them!" I felt like such a fraud, but pocketed the counterfeit compliments as she went on like Bill Neye, the pug science guy.

She finally took a breath, then fashioned an obvios mirror rehearsed smile (somewhere between Shirely Temple and the Grinch) . She announced, "I've been thinking this whole time about how I could possibly repay you for the huge favor you did! " ...(we can start with 3-5 paid days off work), a tin of ankle bandaids- the good fabric kinds and a magnum of Greygoose Vodka, is what I was thinking) …

Darlene continued…."So I talked to my husband last night, and we've decided to give YOU".......(at the point, my butt puckered with excitement, thinking it was a new car, I mean there was so much build up!)… "PICK OF THE LITTER!!!" She continued. YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF DARLENE! Was the reply in head… so I thought it was in my head, till I saw the Grinchy Temple smile fade from her church lady face, then realized my reply had somehow escaped, during my flash of PUG PTSD, thinking she was gonna leave me with one of those little bastards!!

"Ohhh they can be alot, can't they?" She said (kinda cringing) then she smiled. I said nothing (but the crowd inside my head went wild! They were so proud I fought back 4 letter words reserved for US Navy Brigoderes stranded for 6 months at sea ), when I relaxed my mouth, I could feel the blood rush back into my lips, so I knew I had kept them tight as nuns ass during midnight mass.

Two days later, I found a check on my desk for $500 and a note from Darlene thanking me again for all my help. There was of, course no way I was keeping the money, so returned it to her desk while she was at lunch. In big red letters I had written the word "VOID" accros the check, in tiny letters bellow the void I wrote "of this friendship" with a laugh emoji. I hid in the lobby, waiting for her to return to her office. return heard her let out the biggest laugh… then I entered and joined her.

[elysia-nsimp]

Hi friends and followers and everyone else, not my usual kind of post but I’d really really like to share this because it’s made my day!

Be prepared for a long post about my dog with CHF (I promise pictures at the end)

So, my family has five dogs. We love dogs. One of our dogs, Paige, is a rescue. She’s a chihuahua with congestive heart failure who grew up with a homeless person—they lived in a car for all of Paige’s life, with little food or shelter. When her first owner just couldn’t continue to take care of her, she was passed on to a friend who lived in a hoarding house. When that person couldn’t care for her, she was passed on to a shelter. She lived in a foster home with lots of other dogs (especially one that picked fights and stole food), so Paige grew super anxious over her space and food.

We found her through a festival we went to, where I got to pet a little kitten and my parents flipped through the book of rescues while they waited. At the time, she was considered a hospice dog and was looking for a retirement home where they could live happily at the end of her life. We all agreed in nearly an impulsive decision, that we needed to give her a home.

After a couple days, the people who had her reached out and said our application was accepted and to come meet up with them so we could do paperwork and stuff. My dad and I went in first to go meet her.

Paige was skeletal thin, you could see her entire rib cage through her skin, her fur was coarse and dirty, she had like… so few useable teeth, and she spent our meeting hiding under the table and only coming out when I offered her food. My parents took care of all the official stuff, while I tried to convince Paige we were friends and introduced her to our other dogs. Eventually, we took her home with us, and she sat on my lap the entire way.

Since then, we’ve been taking care of her. She sits on her lofthouse by the window, she actively asks for her meds when her cough gets really bad, she asks for hugs and spends most of her time giving us yucky gross old doggy kisses. She’s gained some actual meat on her bones, and she’s gone from so frail we were scared to pick her up so we didn’t hurt her so spry enough that she has daily zoomies! We’ve seen so much improvement in her condition and we’re all really happy to see her up and moving.

This finally brings me to the point of this post, now that you’ve gotten all the backstory to Paigey. On Friday, my mom took Paige in to the vet for a checkup and hopefully a revaluation on her meds (we keep upping her meds as she gains weight). Today, my mom gave me the full rundown to what the vet said.

1. Paige has gained weight. She was 7.4 pounds when we first got her, now she’s 8.2 pounds. That’s substantial weight gain for her !!

2. Her heart murmur dropped from a level 5 to a lvl 4!!! We don’t know exactly if the highest level (lethal) is lvl 5 or lvl 6, but she’s no longer in deadly range of CHF

3. Her heart has actually shrunk, which is SUPER RARE!!!!! That doesn’t like. ever happen?????!!!!! It used to press against her spine and 4 of her ribs, now it only goes 3 and a half ribs and it’s not pressing as hard against her lungs, and her spine especially .

4. The vet said her lungs look great!!!

5. The vet also said her quality of life seems great, since mom gave a rundown of her behaviors as of lately.

So the big TL;DR to take away from this, our sweet little Paige is NO LONGER a hospice dog! We fully expect that despite her condition, Paige will have a full chihuahua life now. Like, she’s doing so well that her CHF is actively in remission, which, again, SUPER rare from my understanding. It’ll never go away, and she’ll likely have that cough her whole life, but we’re all absolutely ecstatic that we were able to nurse Paige back to a healthy enough condition that we aren’t worried she’ll have a heart attack.

Anyway, here’s pictures of Paige giving my parents snuggles!

Can’t express in words how happy I am, knowing Paige is feeling better.

[labbaik-ya-hussain-as]

. DATE WITH A WOMAN…

After 21 years of Marriage, my Wife wanted me to take another Woman out to Dinner and a Movie.

She said I Love You but I know this other Woman loves you and would Love to spend some Time with You.

The other Woman that my Wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a Widow for 19 years, but the demands of my Work and my three Children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for Dinner and a Movie.

'What's wrong, are you well,' she asked?

My Mother is the type of Woman who suspects that a Late Night Call or a Surprise Invitation is a sign of Bad News.

'I thought that it would be pleasant to be with you,' I responded.

'Just the two of us.'

She thought about it for a moment, and then said, 'I would like that very much.'

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit Nervous. When I arrived at her House, I noticed that she too seemed to be Nervous about our Date.

She waited in the Door with her Coat on.

She had Curled her Hair and was wearing the Dress that she had worn to celebrate her last Wedding Anniversary.

She smiled from a face that was as Radiant as an Angel's.

'I told my Friends that I was going to go out with My Son, and they were impressed', she said, as she got into the car.

'They can't wait to hear about our meeting'.

We went to a restaurant that, although not Elegant, was very Nice and Cozy.

My Mother took my Arm as if She were the First Lady.

After we sat down, I had to read the Menu. Large Print.

Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me.

A Nostalgic Smile was on her Lips.

'It was I who used to have to Read the Menu when you were young', she said.

'Then it's Time that you Relax and let me Return the Favor', I responded.

During the Dinner, we had an Agreeable Conversation, nothing Extra-ordinary, but catching up on recent Events of each others Life.

We talked so much that we missed the Movie.

As we arrived at her House later,

She said, 'I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you.'

I agreed.

'How was your Dinner Date?' asked My Wife when I got Home.

'Very Nice. Much more so than I could have Imagined,' I answered.

A few days later, my Mother died of a Massive Heart Attack.

It happened so suddenly that I didn't have Time to do anything for her.

Some time later, I received an Envelope with a Copy of a Restaurant Receipt from the same place Mother and I had dined.

An Attached Note Said: 'I paid this Bill in Advance.

I wasn't sure that I could be there;

But nevertheless, I paid for Two Plates, One for You and the Other for Your Wife.

You will never know what that Night meant for Me.

I Love You, My Son.'

At that moment, I understood the Importance of saying in Time:

'I LOVE YOU!' and to give our Loved Ones the Time that they Deserve.

Nothing in Life is more important than God and your Family.

Give them the Time they Deserve, because these Things cannot be Put Off till 'Some Other Time.'

Pass This Along To Everyone;

With An Aging Parent,

To A Child,

To An Adult,

To Anyone With A Parent,

And Most Importantly,

To Someone You Truly Love . . .

Truth.....Must read each & every sentence ....

Truth no 1 : Nobody is real in this world except Mother..

Truth no. 2 : A poor person has no friends..

Truth no. 3 : People do not like good thoughts they like good looks..

Truth no 4 : People respect the money not the person..

Truth no 5 : The person you love the most, will hurt you the most !

"Truth is Simple, But, The Moment YOU try to Explain it... It Becomes Difficult.

IN LIFE: Two things define you..

"Your patience when U have nothing......... &...... "your attitude when U have everything.

[fairy-princette]

i gave your name as my emergency phone call

AO3 link

1 2 (you are here) 3 4 5 6

Stan receives a postcard from his twin brother - who he's not seen in a decade - asking for his help. But like with everything else in his life, he runs into some trouble on his way there

———

2. in the name of someone i no longer know

“Pines!”

Stanley tilted his head up from where he was lying on the metal bench - not the best place he’d slept but certainly not the worst. A uniformed officer was glaring at him through the holding cell bars.

“It’s your lucky day - you’ve made bail.” He pulled out a ring of keys, unlocking the cell door and stepping away for Stan to walk in front of him. They headed to the front desk where he was given his personal items along with a stack of paperwork, including the details of his court date and chit for the Stanmobile stating it was to remain in the - in Stan’s opinion - questionable care of the Nevada state police department.

“If you’re keeping my car how am I meant to get anywhere? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Guess you’re going to have to ask your pal. He’s the one that paid your bail.” The officer jerked his chin to the lone figure in the waiting area, a man in a plaid shirt and round glasses, who was very pointedly not looking at them.

Stan clicked his tongue and hoisted his duffle over his shoulder, heading towards the stranger.

The man looked up as he approached and stood, offering his hand. “Well hi there, I’m Fiddleford, Fiddleford McGucket, I’m a friend of Ford’s. And you must be Stanley. Y’all really are a pair of peas in a pod, ain’t ya.”

Stan shook the hand, which has a surprising amount of strength behind it considering the man looked like he was made of uncooked spaghetti.

“Folks just call me Stan. It’s good to meet you Fiddleford - thanks for the bail.”

“Ah well, it’s Ford you should be thanking, it’s his grant money. Said he’d be claiming it on expenses anyway. I’m sorry it took so long to get here - I ain’t used to driving so far and had to stop for a kip at a motel, but now there’s the two of us we can be taking turns. Speaking of, better skedaddle on back before Ford manages to pull out his hair from the stress.”

———

Fiddleford glanced over at the man sitting across from him in the truck’s cab. The early-afternoon Nevada sun beat down on them through the windows as they drove down the highway and quiet music crackled from the radio, filling the silence. Stanley was sat with his arms across his chest, looking like he was trying to take up as little space as possible in the truck.

“There’s some tapes in that there glove compartment if you want to have a nosey - might be better than the radio with the reception we’ve got here.”

Stan gave a nod of acknowledgment before digging through the glove compartment, making quiet humming noises as he read their titles.

Fiddleford went back to focusing on the road until he heard the riffling noises stop. He glanced over again and saw Stan holding a piece of paper.

“This your kid?”

“That’s- yeah, that’s my son Tate.” Fiddleford didn’t even need to look to know what the photo was. It had been taken at Tate’s fifth birthday last year. He was grinning up at the camera with chocolate smeared around his mouth, which was missing a front tooth, and was wearing a party hat that had slipped down to cover his eyes. He’d taken a full week off from his work with Ford to spend time with Tate. The party had been filled with screaming children and balloons and Emma-May had a whole stack of photos from the day.

“He’s a cute kid.”“Yeah, he is. He’d shot up like a weed the last time I saw him, and lost two more teeth. Though one of them was from falling over a branch when he was out exploring the duck pond at the park.”

“Sounds like me and Ford when we were kids, out exploring and getting into mischief.” Fiddleford caught the man’s wistful smile out of the corner of his eye. “He doesn’t stay with you at Gravity Falls?”

“No, no. He lives with his mum out in California. We’re, um, we’re actually in the middle of a divorce right now. I was away too much working with Ford, and then when I did visit I wasn’t there mentally, y’know? Still just planning the stages of my experiments rather than being there for my family. It wasn’t fair on Tate, and it wasn’t fair on Emma-May, leaving her to raise him on her own, especially when she has her own research to do.” Fiddleford shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you’re basically a complete stranger.”

“I have been told I’m a good listener. And sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger - doesn’t matter what a stranger thinks about you. They don’t know you, so they can’t really judge I guess.”

“Now ain’t that the truth. Those’re some wise words you’ve got there.”“Ah, probably just something I heard somewhere. I’m not really one for all that smart stuff.”

“Now don’t be talkin’ ‘bout yourself like that - there’s more’n one way to be smart and it’s not all in books. Look at Stanford - that man knows everything there is to know about quantum physics and anomalous evolution, but trying to get him to read a room or play an instrument? He couldn’t be more lost. Sometimes I think he ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock.”

Stanley gave a noncommittal grunt. “Well either way, I’m sorry about your wife. It’s not easy losing family.”

They continued driving on in silence for a few more miles as Stan continued to rootle through the glove compartment as the radio reception faded out to static.

“Speaking of opening up to strangers,” Fiddle ford broke the silence again, “Now I know this ain’t none of my business, but what was it you were in jail for? Stanford only said it was for speeding, but last time I checked that wasn’t worth a court order.”

“You drove ten hours here to get and paid for my bail - even if wasn’t your money. I reckon if it was going to be anyone’s business it’d be your’s. The speeding’s just what I got pulled over for. Turns out cops aren’t too happy about folks driving about with fake plates on their car or a fake name on their license. Technically counts as driving without a license apparently. Guess I’m lucky they didn’t find all my outstanding warrants or they probably wouldn’t have let you bail me out.”

By the end of Stanley’s explanation Fiddleford had given up on even pretending to watch the road, almost completely turned in his seat to gape at his passenger. Eventually Stan paused in his tape search and smirked over at Fiddleford. “Take it from someone who just got done for reckless driving - you really should keep your eye on the road.”

The engineer flushed and spun his head back towards the windshield. “Those uh, those outstanding warrants. Anything I should be concerned about?”

“Nah, not unless you got some secret riches I can con you out of.”

———

The afternoon sun began to lower in the sky and the Nevada scrubland grew greener as they reached Oregon. After hours on the road Stan had insisted he take over driving, and Fiddleford was now sat on his opposite side in the passenger street, a road map folded out in front of him.

“Any ideas what we’re driving into when we get there? Ford’s postcard was pretty bare bones.” ‘Bare bones’ was putting it pretty lightly - just the phrase ‘please come’ followed by an address and phone number.

Fiddleford took off his glasses, wiping them on the edge of his shirt before placing them back on his face. “It’s a bit… complicated. How familiar are you with Ford’s work?”

“Considering this is the first time he’s contacted me in ten years, let’s got with ‘not at all’.”

“To cut a very long story short, Ford was out in Gravity Falls researching the anomalies, tryin’ to work out what was attracting them. He met this… person who said they could help in with his research-”

“And let me guess, he wasn’t totally on the straight and narrow?”“Ain’t that the half of it. This guy, Bill, gave him blueprints for making a portal between universes-”

“You’re kidding, right? What is this, some kind of comic book plot? You’re all mad scientists working in some secret underground lab?” Fiddleford’s silence spoke volumes to him. “Sure, of course, Ford’s built himself a secret underground lab to build a portal to another dimension. Why not. Does it have a secret door? I bet it’s got a secret door.”

“A secret door to a secret elevator with a secret code. At that point I’m pretty sure it was just for the drama. Anyway, that’s when Ford called me in to help on the engineering side, got it up in no time. Things went wrong with the portal, I left the project, and I told Ford if he had even a lick of sense he’d destroy the thing. That was a few weeks back and seems he’s come around - he wants it destroyed and for it never to be rebuilt. I’m thinking this is where you come into it. The plans for how to build it are in his journals and Ford-”

“Ford would never destroy his own work,” Stan sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “So he, what, wants me to destroy it instead? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No. He said that you travel a lot. He wants you to take his journal as far away from Gravity Falls as you can.”

Stan slammed on the breaks.

“Ten years and he- No. He can’t- I can’t-”

He tugged at his seatbelt, frantically clawing at the release button and swinging the door open, walking out into the sparse trees surrounding the road. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the other man turning off the truck and clambering out after him, but little penetrated through the noise of static filling his head. Ten years. Ten years. And the only reason Ford had deigned to contact him - not even with a phone call, but a bloody postcard no less - wasn’t just to ask a favour but to make sure he was as far away from him as possible for the rest of forever.

He marched through the trees, small branches catching at him, creating scratches across his arms, but he paid them no mind.

“Stanley! Stanley, where are you going?” “I don’t know!”

“Stanley, please at least come back to the truck! You can’t just walk off into the forest, it’s not safe!”

Stanley felt a hand on his shoulder and he whipped around to catch the arm, grabbing the other man’s wrist.

“Did he ever tell you why we don’t speak?”“What?”

“Stanford. Did he ever tell you why he’s not spoken to me in a decade?”

“No. I’m sorry Stanley, before yesterday I didn’t even know you existed.”

Stan let out a barking laugh. “Of course, typical Sixer. Why deal with your problems when you can ignore them instead.” Stanley dropped Fiddleford’s arm, the fight draining out of him, and slumped against a nearby tree. “We were seventeen, in high school. He’d made this fancy machine and some folks from this fancy university were coming to see it. We always said it was the two of us against the world and here he was planning to abandon me. I was upset and scared so I went to the school in the night to see what all the fuss was about. There it was, spinning away like nothing was wrong, and I just-” He let out a sigh. “I punched the table. Not the machine or nothing, I wasn’t trying to break it, I just slammed my hand on the table and a screw fell out. I put it back in and the thing was still spinning away so I thought it was fine.

“Turns out it wasn’t fine and that one little screw falling out had broke the whole thing. The university folks weren’t interested in him anymore and it was all my fault.” Stan slid down the trunk of the tree to sit in a pile of dead pine needles, his arms curled around his legs. “Nobody would believe it was an accident, especially not Ford. Of course I had to be jealous, of course I had to have been sabotaging it, of course I had to screw it up, just like I do with everything else.” Fiddleford sat down quietly next to him.

“Pa kicked me out that same night. Ford might think I ruined his life but from where I’m sat he’s doing pretty great. He still went to college, he’s still doing his research, he’s got his own home with his own secret base. He still has a family. What’ve I got? Not even a high school diploma, a list of states I’m blacklisted from, more failed businesses than I can shake a stick at, and a twenty year old El Diablo that I have to fucking live in. Except I don’t even have that anymore because I was trying to get to Ford so bad that it’s impounded. And now, the first time he talks to me in ten years and it’s only because he wants a favour and then for me to get the hell out of his life good. Because what? I owe him? I’ve not paid enough for one mistake I made as a kid ten years ago?” Stan wiped the back of his arm across his face, wiping off the tears staining his face.

“Here.” Fiddleford produced a handkerchief from a pocket, proferring it to him.

“Nerd.” He rubbed his eyes with the cloth. “Thanks.”

“Your pa better hope I never meet him or I’m punching him the face.”

Stanley let out a wet laugh. “Ol’ Filbrick’s built like, well a brick shit house, I’d like to see you try.”

“Hey, I might not look much but I grew up on a farm. I’ve wrestled pigs before, you know.”

“Yeah, and how much of that you been doing since college.”

“I concede your point. I’ll build a robot to punch him in the face for me. That way I won’t even have to meet him.”

“Now that I really would like to see.”

They sat in silence as dusk began to fall.

“Thanks for listening to me. I don’t have a whole lot of folks to talk to, living on the road and all.”

“I’m happy to. You know, a wise man once told me it’s a lot easier to talk to strangers anyway. Although, with how much soul-bearing we’ve been doing today I reckon we’ve got to at least be acquaintances by now, whaddya think?”

Stan let out a thin laugh. “I could have space for an acquaintance, yeah.”

Stanley watched as Fiddleford picked at the pine needles on the ground, similar to how he’d been with his glasses earlier.

“I know it doesn’t excuse what he’s done, but Ford’s not in his right mind right now. That guy, Bill? He’s not really a guy so much as a demon from a nightmare realm that possesses Ford every time he goes to sleep. Last time I saw him he looked like he’d barely slept in a week, and hadn’t showered in longer. When he made that postcard plan of this, he probably wasn’t all there. Now I’m not saying he don’t at least owe you an apology, but maybe take his behaviour with a pinch of salt.”

Stan sat staring up at the stars through the tree branches for a moment. “I should probably be more surprised at the whole ‘demon’ thing, but if anyone was going to accidentally make a deal with a demon it would be Ford. He really is the most stupid genius sometimes. And the very least I’m going to do is say that to his face. Come on.”

Stanley groaned as he stood, offering his hand to Fiddleford and pulling him. “Thanks. I’m driving the rest of the way though. You must be tired and I know the roads here better.”

———

Fiddleford drove them along the highway as Stan got comfortable in the passenger seat, his jacket thrown over him like as blanket. Just as he was starting to dose off Fiddleford heard him mumble “Don’t see why you need to hide the book anyway. Just rip out the pages with the plans. Stupid genius.”

[nathank77]

12/7/24

9:51 a.m

I really want to quit cigarettes but it's hard replacing it. Like for example I may be out at the gym and have to run errands after and popping a lozenger would help control my irritation and my withdrawal but they are gross... and id rather wait until I get home to have a cigarette... I haven't tried too hard.

The problem is i enjoy smoking... the problem is i get dopamine from it and it helps with my anxiety... having a break where I spark up a cigarette and just sit there and enjoy it...

But i mean it would be stupid to not look at it like this. Do cigarettes help with anxiety?

1) i get anxiety about having to buy cigarettes in CT at double or triple the price versus New Hampshire when it's not feasible for me to go to new Hampshire bc i won't be able to afford the bill if I don't separate the payments with statement balances.... I have to go to new Hampshire at specific times of the month in order to make sure I don't ever pay interest..

Cigarettes in NH are legit 300$ cheaper for the same amount of cigarettes in ct... every trip.

2) i hate driving to new Hampshire. It's a trip. I go, get cigarettes and turn around and come home. I have to plan a day trip. I get this reoccurring bill I got to pay off to aviod interest...

And I dread it.. I'm planning to go to new Hampshire soon and i just don't want to make time for it. I don't want to be stuck in the car for hours, freezing and come home with cigarettes and spend all this money on gas as well..

I mean planning new Hampshire and actually doing it gives me anxiety. Especially with the gym, wanting to make a 5 day a week training program.. with all my other errands and whatever. New Hampshire is truly a day trip.... and it's expensive. I can't do anything but new Hampshire when I do new Hampshire..

And I cannot afford CT cigarettes.

3) and obv the health problems cigarettes cause..

- if I quit, my gum disease (the number one reason I'd want to quit) will slow down substantially.... not stop but slow down... hardcore... if I actually get nicotine out of my diet... and I mean if I saved enough money when I quit... I could afford to do gum grafts on my 3 not great teeth in a year or 2. If I do them one at a time...

- obv chlorestoral. It will help.. it won't stop me from needing meds but it may make a huge difference with the gym.

- no more money anxiety/trips to new Hampshire that are dreadful (i do enjoy them a little sometimes... but mostly it's pure dread and I can't wait to get home.) I dread them unless it's a beautiful day.. and with my lack of ac and the summer those times have become dreadful. And the winter is dreadful bc i mean I got to plan for snow. I get anxiety about opening my car windows bc they don't close without me using my hands... and I only open them for new Hampshire.

- lung problems will disappear even if I just stick to lozengers.... not that i have them but I mean could eventually

- it's annoying if I can't fall back to sleep for extended periods to have such Intense withdrawal that I have to actually smoke a cigarette if it takes hours cause it gets bad enough that if I don't smoke I'll never fall back to sleep and I'm taking a stimulate which isn't helpful.

I want to quit. But the hallucination is dreadful. I always have anxiety bc of it. I'm always trying to run away from it. And I mean it causes intense anxiety. And cigarettes help....

But they don't help with everything else. I'm in a rock and a hard place. If I stopped hallucinating I'd absolutely quit. I want to quit anyways but what will be my vice if I switch to lozengers 24/7 and then i slow down to 4 lozengers a day.

Right now I'm having about 11 cigarettes a day including lozengers.

Idk. I also don't think my life is worth living. And I like smoking. But I don't like worrying about money or having to drive or having to buy them in CT.

But having cigarettes before bed helps with my sleep anxiety. I enjoy waking up to have a cigarette. The ritual and everything I enjoy.

Idk. I've been thinking about it a lot. I could buy a lot more stuff I'd want to have if I didn't have those reoccurring bill... and I mean I can't entirely if I want those gum grafts... and If I quit I'm getting gum grafts. 1000% on any tooth with recession. I got a few teeth that need it more.. that I'd prioritize.

[travels-with-kathy]

NYC Love it or Hate it?

New York City. 

It seems that whenever I tell people I'm going to New York, I get two responses;

"Oh I just LOVE NYC!"

or "Oh really? I hate New York."

My husband and I adore it. Every chance we get, we escape our life in Cleveland and catch a quick flight to the Big Apple. For us it's only 59 minutes away. So as long as there are no delays or cancellations at the airport its super easy to get there. 

As soon as the Manhattan skyline comes into view we sigh, feeling somehow like we are home again. Though we both grew up in the Midwest and have lived in Ohio for 18 years. 

Yes, it is dirty especially on trash day. Yes, sometimes you will see an occasional rat running down by the subway tracks. Yes, it is crowded and there are homeless people lying on the sidewalk.

But 1.6 million people live in Manhattan alone and on weekdays the population swells to 3.9 million according to the World Population Review that's approximately 170,000 people/square mile on a workday.  If you count all five boroughs there are roughly 8 million people, double the amount of Los Angeles. Fun fact, there are also over 800 different languages are spoken in NYC! That's pretty cool!

Of course there will be problems with that many people. But there are so many positives. Here are just some of them.

1. You can pretty much find any type of food you could ever want to try. You can go as fancy as you want spending thousands on a meal, especially if there is alcohol involved, but there are plenty of cheap eat options. A few weekends ago, my husband and I stuffed ourselves with the most delicious pork buns and dumplings in Chinatown for under $20! 

Brunch is my favorite meal of the day and two of my favorite spots are Jack's Wife Freida and Balvanera. Hmm I'm getting hungry just thinking about them.

2. The entertainment available is infinite. From small intimate comedy shows, new plays, and less well-known bands to the glitz and glamour of Broadway, superstar performers like Billy Joel playing Madison Square Garden, or a night at Saturday Night Live. Oh and don't forget all the professional sports you can watch. They have it all, baseball, hockey, basketball and football, take your pick! You can find whatever type of entertainment suits you. 

3. Roof-top Bars. There is nothing like watching the sunset over the NYC skyline at a rooftop bar sipping a Negroni or a Paloma! 

4. There are an endless amount of beautiful cathedrals, historical museums, art museums, and historical places to visit, like Alexander Hamilton's grave and Fraunces Tavern and Museum which was a key meeting place in the Revolutionary War period. 

5. Shopping! You can buy anything you could possibly want in NYC. 5th Avenue has all the super fancy big name stores like Gucci, Dior, Tiffany, Bergdorf Goodman etc. Even if you're not buying they are fun to browse.Brooklyn Bridge6. The parks are great! Of course Central Park is the biggest of them all. You could spend an entire day there; walking around, enjoying the lake, taking a boat out on the water, just sitting in the grass having a picnic, getting your exercise by running or biking in the park, and there are pull up bars and other gymnastic work out equipment in some parts of the park. 

Washington Square Park is another of our favorites. We could spend hours sitting on a bench by the fountain simply enjoying the weather and people watching--and ooohing over all the cute doggies that walk through. 

7. We also love that NYC is such a great walking city. You would never have to take a car, you could walk pretty much anywhere, and when you're tired or in a hurry (or it's pouring down rain and you forgot your umbrella) you can always take the subway or grab an Uber. We have clocked over 20,000 steps in a day on some trips. 

After all New York City is one of the top destinations in the world to visit! We already can't wait for our next trip!

What do you think? Love it or hate it? What are your favorite spots in NYC?

Kathy :)

[shadowjtrev]

1 of 2

but speaking of things that I've been pushing to the back of my head.. my phone this week has been reminding me of a certain project I had worked on some time ago.. her anniversary gift..

can you believe I had planned this gift months in advanced?? I know I always didn't show it in our relationship in the beginning but I knew I had grown from a lot of my past mistakes and I had gotten better at not only telling, but showing my love for her, wether it was through big or small gestures.. I was very busy with my family in the beginning so I never really had a traditional job other than money I made on the side with apps on the phone, or baby sitting and basically being a taxi driver for my family since we only had one working car. i was very tied to my family but as I think back, I realize how much of that aspect of me really put a stint in our relationship during crucial moments, but that's a whole other thing, but anyways.. the moment I got my first big check with the new job, I had made up for a moment i had missed awhile back, which was not realizing the importance of a promise ring..

once that check hit I searched high and low for a ring that I thought represented us, and my love to her, and something that she might be in awe of, something she could keep with her always.. it was a black titanium ring with 3 green brilliant gems on the front, I thought it was perfect, the black represented me and the green of course, her. so I waited for the perfect moment to surprise her, I had gotten off of work late and headed straight to her, at some point in the night we were both on the floor of the garage and I told her to close her eyes, she did and layed out her hands, there I placed a small red pouch. she opened her eyes and excitedly poured the items onto her hand, immediately her eyes lit up, seeing the sparkle from not only the ring but the black sparkled necklace attached to it as well, she wore it proudly and i remember as she kept shining the green stones against the light, I know I was late with a lot of things but still, that moment was big in some ways, atleast I hope it was.

so I gave this to her, and told her that what I give her is my promise to her, to always love, cherish, and to solidify what I intend to do and want with our relationship, I had made it clear how serious I was, about her, about us, everything, she was someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with so I wanted to prove that..she did wear it, or tried to atleast, whether it was on her finger or hanging off her necklace, but as time went on and certain things started happening, I saw less and less of that green shimmer that adorned her skin.

by now that ring and necklace are probably long gone, to be fair she never really like the necklace since it was a little uncomfortable to wear because of how it was made, but i knew she loved the ring, she always looked at it.. that moment however, carved a little path for me , to just keep showing just exactly what she means to me, it had opened something within me to display my love and make a promise in that fashion.

so it wasn't soon after that I started to brainstorm my anniversary gift to her..