#what if he was like a little garden gnome would that be fucked up or what

[starsetinsomnia]

[parkersbliss]

the 141 and the really weird or random quirks I’ve decided they had

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: suggestive content, like sexual content but not smut

a/n: I have zero reason for doing this expect I wanted too?? and got carried away with suggestive aspects of it which is funny cause I don't write smut lmfaooo. so mostly fluff and based off real quirks people I know have.

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requests open for tf141!

—

Price:

no matter how many times he cleans the bathroom, his beard hair is everywhere. obviously he keeps that shit well groomed but it’s always somehow stuck on your face after you wash it, or on your shower loofah or towel. and you've tried and he’s tried to clean it and it never works. 

loves gnomes. you have ones in the garden, the front yard, in your house for EVERY occasion. I’m talking christmas, easter, halloween, thanksgiving. he has a set for every season and it honestly scares you a little. one year he bought a giant one for your christmas tree as the topper and it made him so happy so you just accepted it.

doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’s so much of a giver he downplays it every year. If you guys have kids, he’ll buy something for them ON HIS DAY just to take the attention off. so he kind of hates gifts, but he’s not going to not accept that. Would prefer you don’t, even though he bought you a $20K pearl necklace for your birthday. (You’re still afraid to wear it)

leaves you on heard. all. the. time. you ask him something, like as he’s sitting next to you and just … silence. sometimes he even nods, looks at you and then turns away. you’re not sure if it’s something to do with his hearing or he’s just so relaxed at home he just doesn’t comprehend sometimes. “hey, baby, what do you want for dinner?” “mm.” 

average dad experience of sharing a hotel room and brother is snoring. you know what I’m talking about? the cold A.C turning on and off and mf just be out and it’s so loud you have to wear ear plugs. you wonder if he has sleep apnea at some point bc he can’t be real. 

but don’t worry, he’s just as loud in bed bed ;) and he makes it known when you’re going at it 

Ghost:

too stealthy for his own good and always scares the shit out of you. and he’ll try to be loud too, knocking on doors AND still isn’t loud enough. He always feel so bad but it’s also so funny to him bc he really does try to not be so quiet. 

owns the same black t-shirt, like at least 5, but claims one of them is just softer and better than the others. you’ve tried them all on and there is no difference to which he mumbled something about you not having the special sense??

cat whisperer. you’ll adopt a cat while he’s gone bc you’re lonely and you spend all the time with the cat but no. cat loves ghost more. He’ll sleep on top of ghost, but never you. he’ll follow ghost around the house, but not you. it’s very infuriating. and ghost has no idea why bc he’s around 1/2 the time you are. 

has a whole cabinet for his bourbon collection. and a special glass cup AND special spherical ice for it. he doesn’t even drink that often, but it was absolutely necessary (to him). 

he’s a clean freak. very routine in how and when he does laundry. Bed sheets on this day, dark on this day, etc. he won’t let you do any of it. If he loses a sock, he throws out the other pair. as soon as there’s a hole in something, he throws it out. 

nov. 1st is christmas to him. the tree is already up, no questions asks. there are no thanksgiving decoration in this house. he also has multiple trees, one by the entrance, one in the living room, one in your bedroom. 

has definitely fucked you under the christmas lights by the fire. begs you to wear bow lingerie so he can quite literally “unwrap his best gift” 

Gaz: 

loves the lego car sets. his home office is decorated with all his medals AND the lego cars. has definitely left pieces out that you stepped on and then proceeded to scream his ear off.

begs you to play fortnite with him. you think he’s batshit crazy “that’s literally your actual job” “no but the raging kids makes it fun and we can match skins” (he means the banana skins btw) and he’s a troll. he doesn’t take the game seriously, he just wants to torture little kids and make fun of you when you can’t figure out where the shooting is coming from. or when you throw down a med kit instead of splash. 

cannot get through a movie without fucking you and it’s always during the good parts so he’s got you in doggy and you’re still trying to watch the movie??

Instigator fr. he’s not toxic but like he’s gonna argue. Has literally once said to you “I’m not arguing I’m just explaining why I’m right” to which you stared at him and asked if he was stupid 

always ask for hot sauce or sriracha at restaurants or if he can get something spicer. he eats buldok noodles with the whole sauce packet and then proceeds to sit in the bathroom for an hour while you scold him. 

reckless driver to the max. you fear for your life when you’re in a car with him. He speeds (within reason he claims), he makes quick merges and switches lanes fast. he does use a turn signal so you let it slide bc he’s risky but not THAT risky. 

obviously, he has horrible road rage. you’ll be calling him while he’s driving and it’s all normal and then “OI YOU FUCKING SHITE DO YOU HAVE A LICENSE?” you just sigh and then he answers you like normal, “yeah I think I’m out of toothpaste too.” 

saves every selfie of you from snap and his rotating ones as his wallpaper. even the ugly ones you beg him to take out. like any guy, he’ll claim it’s his favorite and then it’s a 0.5 of you eating ice cream and it’s dripping everywhere and your eyes are half closed. 

Soap: 

leaves sticky notes everywhere to remind himself of things. anything. “need olive oil” “missing one blue sock” “(Y/N) wants thai takeout” “call ghost” “laundry” 

and sometimes they’re not even correlated to where it should be. like the note that just says “laundry” will be in the kitchen. and he stacks on top of those sticky notes with more. “did laundry” “bought more socks” it drives you insane

he's obsessed with blankets. He has a designated like basket/bin or blankets in the living room and your bedroom. He sleeps with like three. and he’s got heated ones, sherpa ones, weighted ones, etc. absolutely collects the different printed ones for each holiday. 

loves to go decor shopping with you, but only because he wants to pick out the ugliest things and see your reaction as you swat at him and tell him to put it back. only for him to sneak it back into the cart and you death glare him. 

If you need to rant, he resumes the whole “omg girl, period.” personality. he loves gossip and he loves doing facemasks with you as you talk shit and drama about your coworkers. 

he's so “wait I have to tell my gf this” bro will literally be on a mission and gets a cut? “I have to tell (Y/N).” the room exploded? would take a selfie and send it to you, if possible. sees a weird shaped potato at the grocery store? Sends a picture. Falls down the stairs? you're getting a picture of his broken foot. hard? here's a dick pic just for you babe

uses the same hydroflask water bottle that’s dented, has sticker residue and chipping on all side. “It’s reusable, that’s the point” he claims. you're not sure if he’s ever washed it and you certainly aren’t going to open it and find out for him. 

[frenziedfireworks]

Summer Break

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : You visit your best friends over Summer break.. Little did you expect, George figured out your secret.

A/N : I've been rereading the books and have brainrot. I wrote this a few nights ago and didn't fully proofread it !! (If there are mistakes.. no there isn't ;^> )

You had been staying in the Burrow for Summer break. Being best friends with the twins meant you were accustomed to spending the holidays with them. As Fred had put it, “If you don’t come it’ll break mums heart.” Although you didn’t think Molly minded that much, you did want to spend some more time with them. Much to your dismay though, George had found out about your little crush on his brother.

The weather was scorching as you and George degnomed the garden. Molly had said something about the fireworks being too much and that the three of you had to clean. Fred was sent off to do the front yard and left you with his dear brother. 

“You’ve been staring at Freddie an awful lot. Wouldn’t be falling for the less-handsome twin, would you?” George’s elbow knocked into you, watching as you got nervous.

“I-I have not. Shut it!” You smacked the boy in return and his eyes widened. 

“I was only joking but now I think I struck a nerve. Do you actually like Fred?” 

You could only sigh. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed but you had hoped it wouldn’t be George. 

“Not a word George. Not a single word.” You glared at the boy as you chucked a gnome far away. George whistled as the two of you watched it drop.

“I don’t know Y/N.. What’s in it for me?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, sly smirk only growing with your agitation.

“You’re as bad as Peeves. Don’t tell him and I won’t kill you, alright? I know where you sleep.” You snorted as George mocked being stabbed.

“Bad as Peeves. That’s a new one. Fine, I won’t say anything.” The boy huffed and the two of you got back to cleaning.

—

Dinner had been served and everyone was chowing down. Fred had piled an enormous amount of food onto his plate, shooting you a wink as you rolled your eyes.

“You have enough there?” You raised an eyebrow and the boy hummed.

“Just enough. At least it’s not as much as Ron.” Fred motioned over to Ron who looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Hermione scoffed at Ron.

“The two of you are as bad as eachother.” She glared at Fred, eliciting a laugh from the table.

Dinner went along swimmingly, George and Fred talking to you about jokes and such, an occasional chime in from Ginny or Hermione. It wasn’t until it was over that you got nervous.

You looked over, noticing George staring at Fred. They were both deep in thought, small smirks adorning their faces. Usually you wouldn’t be worried about any tricks or secrets but now that George had known yours.. Well you were scared.

They stood up at the same time and yanked you with them.

“Thanks for dinner mum!”

“Yeah it was so good!” 

The twins yelled their thanks as if that would distract everyone from them kidnapping you. You struggled for a second until you accepted it.

“What in the world are we doing?!” 

“Surprise.” Fred murmured, dragging you into their room.

You sat down on the bed as both of them circled their trunk, yanking out firecrackers. George shifted, eyes meeting yours. He winked at you before starting to cough.

“Fuck.” George sat down on his bed, holding his chest. You realized very quickly what he was trying to do. He was going to leave you alone with Fred. 

Fred eyed him, grabbing at the fireworks he was holding.

“You good mate?” 

George shook his head. 

“No. I think I’ve had something bad to eat.” He got up, darting out to the bathroom. Fred was left looking shocked.

“Well. Don’t reckon he’s gonna be joining us anytime soon.” Fred laughed and your heart sped up. You chuckled along, the anxiety eating you alive. 

“What are we doing then?” You questioned and he held his hand out.

“I thought we could go out past the hills. Y’know, where we practice quidditch. Wouldn’t want mum getting mad again.” 

“Fireworks?” You asked, placing your hand in his. His grin only grew bigger as the two of you set out.

“Right you are, dear. Ever so observant.” Fred teased, shoveling the rest of the fireworks into his pockets. 

—

The two of you made your way through the cold night, Fred’s incessant talking about his new candies filling the void.

Once you had reached the area Fred had automatically begun setting up. He dropped the blanket on the ground and sprawled the fireworks out in front of you.

“Since I’m such a nice guy I’ll let you choose. Go on, let’s see what we get.” Fred egged you on, eyes sparkling in excitement. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction and reached for the furthest left. 

“Mm. Good choice. You ready or do you need a moment?” You nodded your head for him to continue, your eyes wandering his body as he threw the flaming ball. 

“Silencio!” Fred bolted back onto the blanket, his head falling straight into your lap. You felt yourself grow more aware of how sweaty your hands were as they laid on his shoulders or the fact that your legs twitched a little too much. 

Thanks to Fred’s ingenious charm the firework went off without a sound, a red and orange hue lighting the sky. It was a normal firework for what seemed like a few seconds before it fizzled into little hearts. You cooed at the cute sentiment and felt yourself get more anxious. Had George known for longer than you expected? Maybe he had rigged the fireworks? Or maybe you were just overthinking.. 

“You’re thinking too much and not enjoying the show you know.” Fred poked at your jaw, a large smile on his face as he readjusted himself. You looked down at him and noticed how good he looked. The moonlight was lighting just enough so you could see his features, his big eyes fluttering shut with a sigh.

“The show? I saw the fireworks, you muppet.” You snorted and rolled your eyes. His grin grew even wider in his usual devious fashion.

“Well that was only the prelude of course. I am the main show.” Fred batted his eyelashes in a comical fashion, his hands circling his face. 

You let out a laugh. He would be the death of you.

“Oh really? That’s a damn shame.” You yawned sarcastically, fingers making their way through his ginger locks. Fred just hummed in response, body relaxing in your touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. No sounds, no distractions, just the two of you alone. You had to admit that you had never seen Fred so mellow. You thought of it as a good sign. That he trusted you enough to let his guard down. 

“It’s nice just being here with you. I’m glad George put on a show and ditched us.” Fred whispered. You looked down to see him already staring up at you. He cracked a small smile as his hand ghosted over your jawline. All the breath in your lungs left as he traced your skin. Sure, the two of you had been handsy before but all under the guise of being best friends. It had never felt this tense or so electrified.

“Yeah.” You mumbled out, taken with the way his rough fingers padded over you. You knew damn well that your skin was on fire and he could feel the slight tremble in your legs.

“I’m gonna do something, okay?” Fred propped himself up on an arm and leaned forward. His hand pulled you ever closer until his breath was fanning over your lips.

Fred’s nose nudged yours, lips finally meeting. It was an awkward angle for a few seconds before the two of you got the rhythm. His hand ran up your back and gripped at your shirt as if you would blow away. You grabbed at his shoulders, his empty arm pulling you into his lap. 

The two of you were about to deepen the kiss when another firework went off. This time, not so silent at all. 

Your shaken eyes met that of a figure further down the hill who was running back like a madman. Then you heard the voice.

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! Just call me Cupid!” George danced a bit, motioning a finger gun to his brother who groaned.

“Oh please do invite me to the wedding! I expect to be the best man.” George yelled as he continued his trek back to the house. 

“Reckon Ronald will get that spot!” You chortled back and Fred collapsed in a pit of laughter.

“On my dead corpse Y/N!”

“Merlin’s beard, what am I going to do with you two.” Fred placed a delicate kiss to your cheek and pulled you into a hug.

You felt full and content being in his arms. You hadn’t expected the day to change so quickly but you were glad it did. Grabbing the side of Fred’s jaw you peppered a few light smooches.

“You’re stuck with me now, Weasley.”

“Wasn’t I already stuck with you before?” Fred nipped at your lip.

“Guess so..” You whispered to continue where the two of you had left off.

[evil-peanut-butter-addict-sam]

@shelbygraces

shut your bubble gum dumb dumb skin tone chicken bone google chrome no homo flip phone disowned ice cream cone garden gnome extra chromosome metronome dimmadome genome full blown monochrome student loan indiana jones over grown flint stone X and Y Chromosome friend zome sylvester stalone sierra leone auto zone friend zone professionally seen silver patrone big headed ASS UP You and your splotchy hair dye you can't ever choose what color you want, like make up your mind, lovejoys music is better then what you will ever make because you have made NOTHING against them you have been on YouTube for what over 10 years and almost 20 years? And your just now getting 100,00? Sad that just shows that your own 'supporters' aren't even supporting you and just sending absolute shit on us. For God's sakeI had a BLOODY TAMPON tell me to kms all because I had a Wilbur Soot costume you need to learn to control your subs everyone else can why can't you? With how far apart your eyes are I would be way to long to get from one eye to the other I would have to get a pit stop on your nose before anything, your fashion style is practically equivalent to a 7 year old girls closet. The only reason why they replace William with you in QSMP is because you would have never made it when everyone else got a invite, I'm surprised you even got the amount of support you have gotten because you weren't even known even after the relationship with Wilbur you only started getting your fame is because your a selfish little bitch that doesn't know when to stfu. On the selfishness side of you why didn't you give your fans the merch you absolutely promised them? Was it because you where too small of a creator even then to collaborate with someone? "I'd settle for a gun-" Yeah Wilbur we all would settle for the gun them having to hear her loud annoying voice, Shelby you wanted to say it's weird to be friends with minors because Wilbur was friends with tubbo and Tom when they were kids still but your in your early 30S AND FRIENDS WITH AIMSEY WHEN SHE WAS A MINOR you hypocrite "He had a ant infestation" Oh? Now did he? I would like proof on that. Or if I'm gonna be honest you probably don't even have proof like EVERYTHING ELSE and if you did have proof you would have showed it in the first stream. Wil said that he has many different pieces of proof showing you consented but he's not showing them for YOUR OWN PRIVACY AND SAFETY. " hello! My name is Shubble and welcome bsck to my channel" YOU SOUND LIKE STITCH IN YOUR INTROS WTF?? AND YOUR INTRO VOICE LITERALLY HASNT CHANGED IN THE PAST SIX DAMN YEARS? GET CREATIVE MAKE SOMETHING NEW. "I have alot of opinions about sounds in minecraft, what are the best sounds, what are the worst sounds" 1. Damn right you have opinions i think its obvious with the amount of time you have come out with almost every single popular ex of yours and there's suddenly something that went wrong in every damn one. 2 you are the worst sound not just on minecraft but in mankind. 3 William gold has the most iconic and funny ass minecraft sounds. "Just another thrift hall!" Why? Because you can't afford full priced clothing? "I will not be dying mu hair anymore" Then why the hell is your hair orange rn? Me and MULTIPLE people thought you weren't gonna say anything about ILGWIS because the song it literally directed towards how shitty you are/had been but NO you had the clout Shelby, you had to piss people off like me. "Stream my stream instead" Yeah that's all we can do because one again you have no music to stream. Fuck you Shelby, you clout chasing bitch.

VICTIM MORTALITY AND FREEDOM OF SPEECH

[balrogballs]

early congratulations on your upcoming wedding to Mr. Balls aka Eomer with a corporate haircut 🫶🏻

my question is- do you have any Thoughts on Boromir, specifically Boromir & Aragorn. bc i adore Boromir both due to his character and the fact that I am a fellow dilf enjoyer and he seems like the only normal one out of the whole fellowship, which makes me believe that every morning he woke up thinking “what the actual fuck am i doing here”. only to push it down and move on bc he has a job to do regardless of Aragorn singing poetry at 2am and licking rocks for fun.

Thank you! Although Eomer the Goldman Sachs Intern is currently on THIN ICE because he just called me “Luthien in the streets, Pippin in the sheets” 🥲

I absolutely LOVE Boromir for that exact reason.

Because the guy’s already had a hard life and now the most abnormal elf in the realm has just announced that the fun tea party he’s invited everyone to is actually the Hunger Games.

And then he find out that literally every single person on that quest is a fucking freak, like the Hobbits are the most normal ones on there and you have the Chosen One, Buddy of the Chosen One, Tweedledumbfuck and Tweedlederanged.

And then you have Gimli who clearly eats sawdust for breakfast, the Maiar version of your freak ass uncle, and the less said about Legolas the better.

And you assume that Aragorn would be a vaguely sane person because you know he’s the heir of Gondor and the son of the noble Arathorn and the hope of your long suffering people… only to find out that Elfie Trinket And His Valley Girls were the ones who raised him and so there was absolutely no chance in hell that he’d be even remotely normal. A fact Aragorn proves to him in two seconds by saying he’s in love with said foster father’s irl daughter.

And it’s even worse in movieverse because what the fuck do you mean Elrond sends everyone off with a slice of elf toast and little cups of elf whisky but keeps the pieces of the Big Special King Sword right at home in the lap of a glorified garden gnome until his daughter looks him in the eye and says “guess I’ll die then” yes I know Aragorn didn’t want the kingship but listen it’s funnier if Elrond just wanted to keep his statue props

TLDR: Boromir is a stronger person than I because if I was him the films would have been ten minutes long because the minute Legolas started his cuckoo clock from hell act I’d have shoved the ring so far up his ass even Sauron couldn’t get to it.

[uhhhhjhfrogs]

Uhh a quick lil 1.8k of Corroded Coffin Steddie | ao3

Eddie woke up to Steve running his fingers through his hair, he purred like a cat and buried his face in Steve’s chest, “can I just stay here forever?”

Steve chuckled softly and Eddie luxuriated in the vibration, “I mean forever is a long time but the rest of this Sunday seems doable.”

“I can’t Sunday I have…” Eddie's eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly, “band practice! Shit!”

“Since when do you have band practice on a Sunday?” Steve pouted as he watched Eddie scramble out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes he got his hands on first.

“Since you seduced me into skipping practice on Thursday.”

Steve smirked to himself, “I don’t remember you complaining.”

“Well my mouth was pretty busy if you remember,” Eddie scoffed as he hopped around the room pulling up his pants.

Steve sat up in bed to watch him, leaning against the headboard, the sheets pooled around his waist and bare chest on display, all Eddie wanted to do was crawl in between his legs and take him under the sheets again but he had already flaked once that week he couldn’t flake again. Instead he groaned and came to Steve’s side of the bed, tilting his chin up to kiss him sweetly, “it’s torture leaving you dear but maybe you want to come by practice later? In like an hour or two? Watch us play a little bit?”

Steve hummed and kissed him again, “yeah sounds fun, but you should go now if you don’t want to be late.”

“What would I do without you?” Eddie grinned, giving him one more kiss before sprinting out the door. And if Steve didn’t mention how half the clothes Eddie had grabbed had been his? Well he would find out when his friends asked why he was wearing a Hawkins Varsity Swim shirt and Steve’s boxers.

____

Eddie was only 10 minutes late to practice rather than his usual 20, Steve must be a good influence on him. The rest of the guys were already there but they were still setting up so Eddie quickly put his stuff down and started setting up his own sweetheart.

They all started tuning their instruments and tuning turned into a little bit of a jam and then Eddie transitioned into the opening of one of their songs and they were off. It was messy and a little uncoordinated, but their first song at practice always was. It was fun though and Eddie jumped around like they were playing for an actual audience instead of just the garden gnomes in Gareth’s garage. All that jumping in Gareth’s sauna of a garage and Eddie was already sweating, he shed the jacket he had come in with and decided to play the rest of practice in just his tshirt; or what he thought was his tshirt.

“Is that Steve Harrington’s shirt?” Gareth questioned from behind his drum set.

“What?” Eddie looked down and realized that in his haste to get to practice in time he had picked up Steve’s shirt instead of his own, ‘Hawkins Swim and Dive’ plastered across his chest in varsity font. “This isn’t Steve’s… I must’ve swiped this from the locker room a while back, I was in a rush to get here on time - wasn’t looking at what I was grabbing.”

“Dude. It literally says Harrington on the back, why are you lying about this?”

“Shit. Uh I guess it is Steve’s then, whatever, maybe he left it at my house, should we do ‘stagnant’ next? We should practice it for the gig next weekend.”

It was a shameless segue but it worked, they dropped their line of questioning and practice went back to normal for a little while. Until Eddie dropped his pick and had to crouch down to pick it up.

“Who’s boxers are those!” Gareth threw his drumstick towards the revealing gap between Eddie’s shirt that was riding up and his pants that were riding down.

“What the fuck does that mean? My own?”

Jeff stepped forward and put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “Eddie, I think I can speak for all of us when I say, we’ve seen you in your underwear enough to know that those are not yours, so whose are they?”

“Maybe I bought new underwear? Have you considered that?” Eddie crossed his arms defensively.

They all burst out laughing and Eddie pouted at them, “I don’t know what’s so funny.”

“I literally gave you underwear for your last birthday because you never buy them yourself.”

“Think if we checked the waistband there would be a nice little ‘S. Harrington’ embroidered in script?”

“No!” Eddie squeaked, because he knew it was there.

Gareth stood up and came around his drum set,“I think we know what we have to do boys.”

The other two nodded in unison, “It must be done.”

The boys started wrestling, trying to pin Eddie down and he was scrappy but 3-on-1 is never fair and soon enough Eddie was immobilized under the weight of his entire band sitting on top of him.

“Holy shit I was joking but it’s real, he’s wearing Steve Harrington's underwear.”

Eddie braced himself for the next logical leap, for them realizing that he and Steve were dating and all the questions that came from it but instead Jeff just laughed, “I can’t believe you stole Harrington’s underwear, like we know you’ve had a thing for Harrington since Sophomore year but we didn’t know you were so desperate that you’d stoop so low to a panty raid.”

Gareth grinned, “this is great blackmail material.”

“What? you’re going to blackmail me because I’m gay? That’s kind of homophobic of you guys.” Eddie said as he tried to wiggle out from under them.

“Not because you’re gay, we would’ve done this if you stole a girls underwear too, it’s the underwear theft itself which is the blackmail material, like sure everyone had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in their lives but I doubt more than a few went so far as to steal his underwear.”

They finally let him up and Eddie just rolled his eyes, “ok whatever, I don’t care.”

“You’re saying you don’t care if Harrington finds out that you like him soooo much that you stole his underwear?”

“No I don’t care, especially because I know you’ll never have the guts to actually tell him.”

“I mean he kind of has a point there, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you even stand within five feet of Steve Harrington.”

“Ooh your ears must be burning!” Gareth’s mom laughed as she led Steve into the garage, “Steve Harrington is here, asking for Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie said I could watch you practice today.” Steve waved.

All the band members looked at Eddie with wicked smirks.

Eddie kicked his band mates in the shins subtly as he crossed to Steve, “Yeah, we were just gonna start going through our set list for the next show, you can sit on the couch over there.”

“Cool.” Steve smiled and settled on the couch to watch.

Thankfully, the band valued rehearsal over the potential humiliation of their lead singer and they followed Eddie’s lead-in to their set list. Going through the set list and fixing all the mistakes they made along the way took another hour and afterwards the boys were beat. Eddie dropped to the floor where he was, sprawling on the floor with Jeff, Gareth spun around on his stool and Kurt sat on the couch with Steve.

Eddie popped his head up and grinned at Steve, “so what did you think?”

“Loud,” Steve chuckled, “but really cool, there were some new songs in there right?”

“You know our music well enough to know which songs are new?” Gareth leaned over his drums.

“Yeah, Eddie gave me some of your tapes.”

“And you listened to them?”

Steve furrowed his brow, “yeah? What else would I do with them?”

“Huh.”

Breaking the awkward tension that had begun seeping into the room, Jeff popped his head up, “Do we have any beer?”

_____

A couple beers in all the guys were a lot more relaxed, Steve had slotted into the dynamic between them surprisingly well. Eventually Jeff had enough of the puppy dog eyes Eddie was giving Steve so he decided to stir the pot, “so what do you think of Eddie’s wardrobe today, Steve? Think we should add more jock style to the band?”

“I think you should,” Steve snorted, “imagine, you could be the only metal band out there in varsity jackets.”

“Yeah? You think so, Harrington? Would you lend all of us various athletic paraphernalia?”

“Playing multiple sports since middle school has prepared me for this,” he nodded solemnly, “if you wanted to you could all take a different sport even.”

Eddie laughed, “ok but I want your letterman jacket.” He shot Steve a secret little smile, he’s worn Steve’s letterman jacket before, he’s worn only Steve’s letterman jacket before, and he didn’t want any of his other band mates tainting that memory.

Kurt pouted,”aw you already got his underwear! I want the jacket.”

“Oh come on! There goes our blackmail dummy.”

“Your what?” Steve chuckled.

“Oh shit. Sorry Eddie, we really didn’t plan on saying anything, it just slipped. Fuck! Sorry man.”

“I told you guys, I don’t care if you try and tell Steve.”

“Are you sure? Because I think it’s so funny.”

“Go ahead” Eddie made a flourish with his hand from the floor.

“Hey Steve-“

“Yeah?”

“You know Eddie is wearing your boxers right now?” The band burst out laughing and Eddie just shrugged shamelessly at Steve who was grinning like an idiot.

“Huh, wonder where he got those.” Steve chuckled.

“You don’t care if we tell him the second part either?” Gareth poked Eddie on the floor.

“No go ahead, I would argue that’s the funnier part.” Eddie smirked directly at Steve.

“Well we assume that he stole them from your house because he likes you sooo much.” They cackled like hyenas the way that only drunk 18 year olds can.

“Hmm, and Eddie, you really don’t care that they told me this?”

“Not a bit,” he gave Steve a small knowing smile.

Steve popped off the couch and for a second the band was afraid he was about to kick Eddie when he was literally down but instead he laid next to Eddie, interlaced their fingers together and smiled, “Well I think it’s a good thing he likes me so much considering we’ve been dating for about 6 months now.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before the garage erupted into pandemonium. Steve and Eddie just burst out laughing and Steve leaned over to kiss his boyfriend silly like he had wanted to ever since he saw him shred the guitar solo in the first song they played.

[radioisntdead]

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

[shhh-secret-time]

"i would love to see your take on stan/female reader/wendy…with the spice lol😙" - anon

Oh boy my first fic with Wendy~! And it's Stendy no less, lets fucking go! This request is a special one, because I seriously have never received a compliment so fucking funny in my life. The person who sent this I hope you enjoy it and god speed.

Warning: NSFW, Threesome, F/F/M, Strong-Language, Mild Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Oral

Pairings: Stan x Fem!Reader x Wendy

Come on down to Aspen Snowmass Ski Resort!

You flipped the little brochure over looking at the picture of large snowy mountains and giant ski slopes on the front. Inside the small packet were three passes and a small metal key tucked away in the pockets of the folded paper. Three passes for everything this large Ski Resort had to offer and more! How Stan got ahold of these tickets was a mystery.

*Tickets and Passes at a discounted price! You only need to sit through a short presentation! Ask for more information over the phone!

"Wendy, can you bring out that black bag? I need to tie it down on the car!" Speaking of the shaggy haired man.

"Yeah! Give me a second!" Another voice calls from the blue painted house, the front door propped open with a silly looking garden gnome. "Stan what did you pack in this?! It's heavy!" Wendy comes out with the large, long black bag that Stan requested.

"Skiing equipment." He pauses to take the bag from her, meeting her half-way from the car to the house. "First aid supplies too just in case."

"You're not going to go down K-13 again, are you?" Wendy puts her hand on her hips looking up at the man, she has her lips pursed slightly and her eyes lowered.

"Well...what's the point of going to Aspen if we're not going to ski?" Stan gives her his best smile as he puts the bag on top of the car, going out of his way not to look her in the eye.

You can't help but giggle at their interaction, they're both so cute when they get like this. You already know how this is going to go, Wendy is going to warn Stan that he needs to be careful and not get wrapped up in just skiing the entire time, and Stan is going to reassure her that he'll be fine and that he won't.

But before they can go through the motions, they both stop and look over at you. Wendy has the most charming smile on her beautiful painted lips and Stan has a lazy smirk across his. Your cheeks flush from getting caught, you look down at the bags by your feet and quickly scoop them up.

As you walk over to put the bags in the car a pair of arms wrap around your waist pulling you away from it. Pulling you towards his chest, Stan slots you in between himself and Wendy. Another pair of arms wrap around your arm, Wendy pulls your arm close to her chest.

"Watcha giggling about baby?" Wendy's the first to ask, an amused glint behind her eyes.

"You wouldn't be laughing at us, would you?" Stan follows up with his own teasing, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Maybe a little! I can't help it you guys are cute! Plus, I'm excited, a whole weekend with my favorite people~!" You chirp back at the both of them.

You rest your head on the top of Wendy's head and bring your free hand up to cup the side of Stan's face. Standing in the driveway surrounded by various colored bags, you're reminded of the wonderful life you live. Stan and Wendy have you swallowed up in this little hold, reminding you that you're loved.

Yeah, life was pretty great with your partners. You had a house on the street of Stan's childhood home. A dog with the softest fluffiest fur you've ever seen on a pupper, who was currently being watched by Stan's best friend. A warm bed, that would be cold without nestled bodies to keep it so. It was the three of you against the world.

Oh, and the stupid garden gnome, how could you forget Mr. Poppy. He was just as important to the family. No other gnome could hold open a door like him.

"Awwh! I'm excited too! I can't wait to try all the food and take pictures! It's going to be so pretty!" Wendy coos as she nuzzles her face into the side of your arm. "So, we better hurry and keep packing so we can get there in time for check-in."

She presses a kiss on the side of your cheek and then quickly places one on Stan's, who is still leaning on you. Stan only chuckles and goes back to tying the skiing equipment down, not before giving you both a little squeeze.

Wendy trots back into the house to grab the rest of the luggage as you begin to pack the car, Tetris style.

Once everything is neat and secured the only thing left to do was get in and decide who was going to drive. After a quick little game of nose goes, issued by Stan, Wendy was the one behind the driver’s wheel. Stan up front in the passenger seat and you in the back stretched out. Your softest pillow pressed against the car door and a blanket thrown over your legs. Stan's got his phone plugged into the aux chord scrolling through his endless playlists.

"So, what are we feeling, something heavy and loud, or energetic and feel good?" He asks just as Wendy backs out of the driveway.

You put the 3DS in your hand down on your lap for a moment, pausing your game for a moment. Harvest Moon can wait this was important. "Let’s start with feel good and go into heavy and loud. I say when we stop to get snack, we jump into something new!"

"Yes! Oh, I was just thinking about what snacks to grab! Whatever we grab nothing messy!" Wendy looks at you through the rearview mirror only to giggle when you give her a pout.

"Why are you looking at me?! I don't get messy snacks! Stan does!"

"Nah sorry babe, I'm with Wendy on this one." Stan chuckles just as he puts on a song.

"Of course you would be on her side to save your ass! You can't just agree with Wendy when it's convenient Stan!"

The car is filled with music and laughter the entire ride there. Stan trying to catch almonds in his mouth by tossing them in the air, only to miss when Wendy "accidently" swerved the car. Talking about each album selected and listened to, how it makes you feel and what you didn't like about it. It's mostly Stan just going on about different rifts and how it's impressive certain guitarists can pull of techniques, but hey it's what he liked. The two slowly take off their coats and throw them in the back seat, hitting you in the process. Protests are quickly cut short when you realize how warm they were.

 At one point Wendy had to pull over from giggling too hard at the image of you wrapped up in three coats, Stan's hat, her gloves, your blanket and pillow, and your shoes kicked off. Stan agreed to take over because taking you away from your comfy state would have been a crime, especially when Wendy calmed down and crawled into the back to lay with you. Laying across you, she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel her eyelashes brush against your skin the entire ride making you giggle and squirm. The both of you nap the rest of the ride, arms wrapped around one another, legs intertwined.

Stan would be jealous if it wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Just before he wakes the both of you up, he snaps a quick picture of your sleeping forms. It's his new lock screen. Maybe he can let both of you rest while he handles the check-in, after all he still has to drive up to the cabin.

The silver car pulls up to the cabin carefully pulling into the driveway. Colorado snow packed high against the side of the wooden building, a dim light flickering through the frosted windows. Stan leans back in the driver’s seat taking a moment to just enjoy the quiet. The soft sound of your breathing mixing and matching Wendy's in the back seat. He closes his eyes and smiles, thinking about how he had to claw his way to this point in his life but he's so glad he did.

He turns the car off and opens the door, the cold air nips at his skin as he leaves the warmth of the car. Maybe he can let the two of you sleep a little longer while he puts the bags away. It isn't until he has to untie the skiing equipment that you begin to stir, the cars gentle rumbling no longer present. Groggily you rub the sleep out of your eyes, the subtle weight of Wendy on your chest makes you hum. Your hands rest on the small of her back as you look around, the orange lights of the sunset peeking in through the car window.

It caresses the side of Wendy's sleeping face. Reds and yellows disappear behind the kisses you place on her face. Trailing gentle kisses down her cheek towards her jawline, subconsciously she tilts her head to the side giving you a little more access to her neck.

"Hm... Wendy, baby wake up." Your voice is still laced with sleep, knowing that if she doesn't move off you that you'll fall back asleep.

She stirs enough to let you know that she's slowly waking up, but when she doesn't get up and instead crawls up your body you let out a little hum. Contrary to popular belief, Stan wasn't the one that was hard to get up. Wendy was a little menace, doing everything in her power to stay asleep. Right now, she was using the fact that she knew she was adorable to try and catch a few more moments with you. It was working, but you could play dirty back.

Your lips continue to her neck where you pepper up and down the flesh. Your hands move up her shirt enough so that your fingertips brush against the exposed skin. She rewards your efforts with a little moan, pressing her body closer to yours. She can feel your smirk against her neck, her attempts to let her go back to sleep fall short.

You continue your assault on her neck, soft and feathery kisses turn heated. The sound of blankets rustling and being pushed off to the side onto the car floor, slips under the sound of her moans. You slot your leg between her legs bringing your knee up to keep her close.

"You gotta wake up pretty. I think we're here." The raspy purr of your voice sends a shiver down her spine.

Wendy rolls her hips against the fabric of your jeans just as you bite down on the sensitive spot of her neck. Your hand moves down her back again, sliding further past her hips to her the side of her thigh that's exposed. The short white skirt she put on today gave you a perfect look of those creamy soft thighs. Your fingers squeeze the flesh making her moan your name.

She leans up and tugs your jackets up, silently asking you to sit up with her which you do happily. Her hands push down the layers of jackets until they pool under you and leave you in just your tank top. It gives you enough time to pull away from her neck and work her shirt open, a few buttons near the collarbone. A glimpse of her brightly colored red bra pulls another purr out of you, your lips brush against her the valley of her breasts.

But before you can dive back into her, the car door behind her opens. Cold air claws at your exposed skin and the car light comes on. The interruption makes the cold sit in faster than it normally would.

"Having fun?" Stan's voice almost pulls you away from Wendy's chest, stops your wondering hand on the curve of her ass.

"Was just trying to wake our girl up. You know how she gets." Your response is muffled by Wendy, you look up at Stan with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Oh, I know. I was almost tempted to you let continue, but I figured you'd wanna get cozy by the fire."

"I-I'm not that bad!" Wendy tries to protest but it turns into a squeak when you bite down, leaving a bright red mark.

"Uh-huh. Stan's right though, we gotta get the bags inside." You slowly slide your leg out from under Wendy.

"Already got them inside." He says as he offers his hand to help Wendy out of the car, unable to take his eyes off the lipstick stain you left on her chest. "Checked us in too. I figured I'd give you guys a little more time. Kinda glad I did now."

Wendy's soft awwh's went away at the last comment. She rolls her eyes and pushes past him. "Thank you. Stan."

With her coat thrown over her arms she makes her way into the cabin leaving you and Stan in the cold to gather the rest of the coats and blankets. You both watch her walk up the stairs, her skirt swaying from side to side as she does. Stan looks down at you and smirks, there's a silent exchange of knowing looks.

"She's so cute when she's mad."

"Right? All pouty when she gets called out."

You take Stan's hand and pull him along to the cabin. He closes the car door and locks it with a press of a button. Wendy's already tossed her jacket up on the coat hanger resting beside the door, her shoes put neatly away in the corner. The crackling fireplace in the middle of the room was already lit and made the cabin feel so comfortable. It's almost enough to distract you from the warmth pulsing at your core. The little make-out session did more than just wake you up.

Stan shrugs his coat off his shoulders and grabs at the ends of the sleeves to tug it off further. That action alone shouldn't make you bite your lower lip but the way his muscles flex under his shirt and how he rolls his shoulders only encourages the feeling. You turn your head away from him and take a deep breath, a small part of you hopes that Wendy's struggling like you are.

And she is, she's running her fingers through her hair that's thrown over her shoulder trying to ignore Stan. Trying to ignore the look you give him and how it excites her, how Stan is blissfully unaware of the way you're both eyeing him. Poor Stan. Poor sweet dumb Stan.

He puts his jacket next to Wendy's and then takes yours from you doing the same. You smile at the kind gesture and go to explore the cabin. Maybe if you got away and cleared your head a little, you wouldn't burn up by your own desire. Walking past the living room and into the kitchen you took note of how cute everything looked, straight out of a little novel. The cabinets were a light brown color that matched the white kitchen counter perfectly, little shelves of cups and bowls tucked away. Although the ivy that hung down from the top of them was fake, it brought little splashes of green that made it look so pretty!

You turn back and walk back towards the living room. Stan and Wendy are sitting on the couch together, she's snuggled up against his side curled up. He's got his hand resting on her knee and his arm wrapped around her, she's playing with the fabric of his shirt whispering something to him. They laugh and he presses his forehead against her letting it rest there as they close their eyes, and just enjoy the presence of one another. Between the warmth of the fire and the love you feel for the two people in front of you it was almost enough to make you burn up. You smile softly and decide to give them some time alone.

After all you got to have a little time with Wendy first, it was only fair. Plus, you still had to see the bed! And what a bed it was! Dark blue blankets folded carefully over the bed, three pillows fluffed up to the point where they looked like clouds, and a giant white comforter that you just knew would keep you nice and warm. That and the mini fireplace in the corner, sitting there on a little platform with dried out logs of wood behind it. Bookshelves filled with various novels and decorations line the wall. Behind the bed is the largest window in the cabin.

You crawl over the bed towards the window, sitting up on your knees you look out at the frosted glass. Resting your chin on your arm, the sight in front of you is beautiful. Since you were asleep when he pulled up to the cabin you didn't get to really take in all the beautiful mountains that surrounded the area. The snow was starting to come down a little heavier now like it waited just for you and your partners. Dark green trees covered in that beautiful untouched sparkling snow.

With a happy little sigh, you flop back on the bed with your arms sprawled out, you stretch out to your fullest. The stretch feels good enough to make a little moan slip from your lips, your back arches up making the muscles feel better. Reminding you that lying in one spot for too long with another human on you isn't exactly the best for your body.

Your eyes open to the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Stan and Wendy walk into the bedroom only to spot you already on the bed enjoying the silk on your skin.

"Told you this is where she'd be." Stan says leaning on the doorway, his forearms holding him up on the doorframe.

Wendy looks up at him and giggles, "This place is beautiful! How were you able to book this place? It must have cost a lot."

"Nah. It's my parents, they bought it when we were younger. Dad caved and just bought this cabin after that time share experience." He shrugs a little, his fingers run through his hair a little pushing up the black locks.

"I guess I'll have to thank your dad next time I see him." You say finally deciding to lean up.

"Don't. For the love of god don't, it'll go to his head." The way he says it makes you and Wendy burst out into laughter.

She decides to join you on the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her petite form sinks into the soft mattress. Her hands pushed down on the bed forcing her up a little, the momentum causing her to bounce up and down on the bed. After she's satisfied enough with the bounce she leans back against your form. Your arms go to wrap around her waist pulling her close to your chest, you nuzzle back into her neck where your lips were moments ago.

She responds by pressing a kiss into your cheek. You retaliate with a little nip on her neck pulling a breathy giggle from her lips. The way it turns into a moan makes Stan's breath hitch in his throat; his eyes scan your forms. He watches the way your hand trails up her shirt slowly slipping the plastic buttons through the slots. Every button reveals more and more of her body, pushing it down to her elbows where it rests on the cubital.

Your hand comes up to the lace on her bra strap. Playing with the material before sliding down her shoulder, replacing the strap with your lips. Your other hand moves down to her thigh pulling the skirt up in the process. Stan's eyes widen when he sees the matching set of panties, stained a darker shade from her arousal.

"So pretty, did you wear that for us?" You whisper next to her ear as your fingers made quick work of moving up and down her slit. Adding just enough friction to make her roll her hips, trying to chase the pressure.

Wendy's pretty pink lip’s part to answer but it turns into a whimper and a moan. Her cheeks turn a bright red matching the lingerie that looks so beautiful against her skin.

"Come on Wendy, answer her. It's rude ya know." Stan finally breaks away from the spot that he was glued to. Finds it in him to walk over with that shit eating smirk across his face. He bends down and puts his arms on either side of you. He leans down and presses the softest kiss on her forehead. Compared to your hand and the way you’re squeezing every soft curve; his kisses feel so alien.

Ever stubborn, she goes to silent him with a kiss. It takes everything in Stan not to capture her lips in a heated kiss, but he's able to pull back and shake his head. Just far enough that Wendy can feel his lips ghost over hers, just enough to smell the gum he had in the car. The spearmint taste on her lips.

"Ah no. Bad girl." Stan tuts as his fingers trace her lips; the pads of his thumbs brush over her lower lip. Wendy's lips wrap around his thumb pulling it into her mouth, her tongue swirls around the course digit. You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Stan's resolve break. He never could hold on long when she worked her magic.

Your hands slip down the band of her underwear, pushing the thin fabric past her hips and like clockwork, Stan helps you pull them the rest of the way down. He tosses them to the side before removing his thumb from her mouth. Not before pressing down on her tongue, making a pool of drool slide down her chin.

The way she looks up at him makes your heart slam against your chest and your body ache. Finally, after the slow drawn-out teasing, your hands pull apart her legs. Pushing them away from one another by the plump of her thighs. Her slit now bare to the man before her, her arousal coating her legs now that she no longer has the flimsy material to cover it.

Stan's on his knees in front of her, his arms tucked so snugly under her legs so that he can bring her closer to the edge of the bed. He lazily throws them over his shoulders and dips his mouth closer and closer to her aching heat. Just as his lips connect to the throbbing bud, you press a kiss onto her lips.

His lips twist and pull at the bud, a hungry tongue greedily swirling around to collect her arousal. The flat of his tongue presses into the nub until it wanders into her heat. Just as his tongue slips its way into her cunt, yours slips into her mouth. Devouring her in a different way. Every moan that escapes her lips is immediately swallowed by you. For as hungry as Stan was, you were starving.

The poor girl couldn't catch her breath. Between your kisses that already left her breathless, and Stan's jaw working her clit; she could feel the pressure in her core build up fast. It was like trying to ride out heavy waves during a storm. Colored nails intertwine with Stan's hair, tugging the locks up when he hits that perfect spot with his tongue.

"A-ahh!" Her moans pitch an octave, she bucks her hips forward against his mouth.

The kiss is broken just as her resolve comes crashing down. Stan can feel the way her walls throb and tighten around his tongue.

Wendy throws her head back when Stan continues, even with her climax coating his tongue it’s not enough for him. His eyes flutter shut with no intention of stopping. He'd continue lapping up every delicious part of her until his jaw ached.

She tries to push his head off, tries to close her thighs around his head. But he keeps his hands firmly on her thighs. When she tugs his hair again, he only lets out a deep moan which vibrates up against her cunt.

Little beads of tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes. The overstimulation was a painful pleasure. Her breath hitches in her throat, a silent scream dies along with it. The sound of Stan's mouth working its magic fills the roo. The heavy exhales coming from him as he struggles to catch his breath, the fact that he'd rather suffocate than come up for air makes you chuckle.

After Wendy cums around his tongue again, and the light mascara around her eyes begin to bleed down her face, do you tap the side of Stan's shoulder. "Alright cowboy let her go, I think she's learned her lesson." Stan's eyes meet yours, looking up through the darkened blues.

He flicks his tongue a few more times, pulling a cry from the poor woman. He moves his lips to the inside her thighs. A series of kisses trail down her quivering thighs, he hums softly.

Wendy's body is spent, you can tell from the way she's practically lifeless against you. Her mind is still trying to catch up from it's high. Your hands work on massaging circles on her hips helped to anchor her back down.

"I think you killed her Stan." You chuckle, pushing Wendy's hair out of her face.

"Ya think? I couldn't help it; she tastes so good." His purr sends a shiver down your spine as he leans up towards your face. "Wanna taste?"

When you nod and smirk at him, he bends down and finally captures your lips in a kiss. The difference between their kisses is night and day. Wendy's are always soft, passionate, playful ones. Stan's are hungry, firm ones; like he's trying to put all his feelings into one action.

You can taste it. Every bit of love he has for you on the edge of his lips. Wendy on his tongue. Desire in the way it twines with yours. Wendy's half open eyes watch, her mouth opened in awe. The way your tongues work in each other's mouths brings a red hue to her face.

Her blush deepens when she sees the thin string of saliva that connects your tongues snap. Stan's the first to pull away, lips still wet from everything. He cleans the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirks.

"Hmm...he's got it out for you Wendy." When you call her name, she looks up. The confusion written on her face only makes you chuckle. "Because that wasn't enough, it's my turn."

She was going to die. Wendy Testaburger was going to die somewhere in Aspens. The comfy warm cabin was going to be her coffin, and her cause of death was going to be her two insatiable partners.

You don't give her much time to protest, not that she would anyway. You pull away from her and begin to strip down to nothing, Stan works on moving her back against the pillows. At least she'll be comfortable when she dies.

Stan whispers to her softly, "You can give us one more Wens. It's only fair, she didn't get her turn."

You smirk back at the bed as you toss your clothes away. She looked so cute in nothing but her pretty white blouse still wrapped around her arms. Beads of sweat starting to trail down her body, you know you're not the only one watching as they trace every gorgeous curve.

But you are the one that gets to settle between her legs. You crawl over until your face is inches away from her poor cunt. Your eyes find the marks Stan's left behind and decide that it's not nearly enough. Her pale skin made the red splotches pop so pretty, why not add a few more. So, you leave teeth marks and little bruises where Stan's mouth hadn't touched.

Stan's enthralled, but not enough to sit there and do nothing. While you worked your clothes off, he did the same. Dark blue jeans thrown to the side, faded band shirt alongside it. It isn't until he puts his hand on your hip that you realize he's propped up behind you.

Standing on his knees, he's pulled your hips up towards his aching member. Wendy's little whimpers and moans only serve to make his cock throb. His hands fist the flesh and pump it a few times. Watching your face get closer and closer to where moments ago he had his.

"Fuck that's hot." It slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. At this point he's not sure he wants to, just pressing the tip of his head against your slit isn't enough. He needs you both to hear what you're doing to him. "You're so pretty like this. Eating our girl out like that, and fuck-" He paused to deliver a firm slap on your ass. "-this ass of yours."

The pain makes you moan out, the vibration shoots up against Wendy's clit. She cries out and bucks her hips against your lips, which you use to capture her clit. Lips wrapped around her abused bud.

"Oh god~" Wendy throws her head back, any work to get her to come back down from her fucked out mental state is thrown out the window.

Her moans encourage you, selfishly lapping and sucking at every nerve until you find a rhythm that causes her to see stars. Stan picks up on it, he waits until your tongue is flicking her bud back and forth before diving into your cunt. Firm hands keep your hips still, so he doesn't throw off your tempo.

Again, he doesn't even bother holding back his moans. Your arousal lets him slip past your folds and snuggly against your walls perfectly. He pushes until he's halfway buried deep into you, only to slowly pull back out. For as good as you're making him feel, he's so focused on the way you're making Wendy feel. Every time you moan into her, she arches her back, and every time she moans at the sensation it makes his cock throb. The cycle keeps the fire burning. Lust and pleasure wrapped so tightly together.

Wendy's mouth is lulled open, and her eyes are rolled up to the back of her head. Stan knows she's not going to last from looks alone. So, he begins picking up his pace. His snapping forward with such force it causes a ripple across your flesh. He's making it hard to focus on anything but the way his cock feels buried in you.

Thrust after thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge. You're dissolved to nothing more than sloppy tongue thrusts. Pumping in and out of Wendy like Stan is doing to you. Every thrust from him trickles down to her. Pushing you against her only to pull you back against him. But you're not the only one losing yourself.

Stan's been hard since he opened the car door and found you two in a heated state. He's been fighting the urge to fuck you both senseless since Wendy first came around his tongue. With every flutter of your walls, he goes harder and deeper.

After a particular strong thrust in just the perfect spot, you feel your resolve crumble. A white-hot flash goes across your eyes and down to the pit of your stomach. Your walls clamp down around him, trying to milk him for all he's got.

"O-oh fuck! Fuck you're squeezing me!" He growls so loudly when you do. He crawls over your form, sweaty chest pressed against your back, hips pushing you further into the bed. His mouth latches onto your shoulder where he bites down. Hard.

Wendy's fingers are in your hair pulling your head up towards her chest. She's already cum for the third time, possibly the fourth. She's stopped counting and all she can focus on is the way you both feel against her. She watches the way Stan drills into you until he can't keep the rhythm anymore.

His hips stutter, slap against your ass one last time and then he spills his cum into you. Thick hot ropes of cum paint your insides until it's dripping down your thighs.

Heavy breaths and shaky moans. Slow inhales and breathy exhales. Whatever energy Stan has left is used to keep himself from falling on top of you. He pulls his teeth from your skin, pressing a soft kiss on the mark he's left behind. A quiet apology.

Eventually he pulls out of you and falls to his side next to Wendy. His arms find home around her waist where he tugs you both towards his chest.

".... this vacation already rules." Stan breaks the silence, pressing a kiss into your temple.

"It's only the first night." You giggle, tossing him a lazy smile.

"Yeah, we still got the hot tub to test out." Stan says with a smirk.

Come on down to Aspen Snowmass Ski Resort!

"Insatiable. Both of you. I'm going skiing at least once or I swear to God." Wendy huffs but the smile on her face betrays her. The corner of her lips twitch as she tries to resist.

You might get some skiing done.

[likeabulldigidigibombombombom]

Open Window (Part 1)

Pairing: (non threatening) thief!Hyunjin x fem!reader 

Trope/Genre: Non idol au, fluff

Summary: You’re nearing the end of your gap year, and you decided to spend your last month of it at your aunts house. Unfortunately, a very stupid criminal has struck your house many times and you need to figure out who they are and why they did it.

854 words 

Warnings: Hyunjin LITERALLY ROBS YOU. DO NOT DO WHAT Y/N DOES SHE IS A DUMBASS. Usage of pet names, swearing. 

Lee know is mentioned

You were so bored. So extremely bored. You had completed your third walk around the block, which you normally would be too tired to do, but you had to do something that didn’t include death-scrolling on your phone and making small talk with your aunt. 

You thought that taking a gap year would include traveling and spending time with your close friends, but it was really just a whole lot of nothing. 

When you were preparing to unlock the door to get into the home that you were staying at for a month, you noticed the weird gnome on your doorstep was missing. ‘Eh, whatever’ you thought to yourself. The next day, while going on another walk around the block, half of the garden decorations were gone. You just brushed it off, because who the fuck would steal garden decorations. 

A few hours later, you had gotten ready for bed because ‘if you can’t entertain yourself it's better to just sleep’ you thought, but you had left the window open. It was extremely hot and you were lying on top of your bed sheets, trying to get to sleep when you heard a noise. You looked up to see a person, halfway inside of your room. 

As soon as you realised what was going on, your hand flung to your bedside table to turn the light on. But the shadow of a man was gone. Thinking it was just a dream, you slept peacefully.

“Did you hear anything last night Y/N?” your aunt asked, while washing dishes by the sink. “No, I don’t think so. I think I went to sleep immediately after getting upstairs.” “Oh, I must have been imagining things then.”

The nights were uneventful for a while, until you slept with your window open again. 

Tossing and turning, you couldn’t sleep. It was around 3 am when you heard a noise again. This time, you were sceptical and terrified. The fear was so intense that you felt like you couldn’t move your hand to turn on the light. 

“Who are you?” You said. It came out quieter than intended, but it was audible. “Uh, a ghost. This is all a dream.” You could see a silhouette of a man wiggling strangely and you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked about 5’11 and his voice was strangely attractive. 

“Okay, what the fuck is going on? Because I’m weirded out at this point.” He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fair enough.” You could hear someone take a deep breath and then blurt out. “I’m robbing you.” “Sorry, what?” “I’m robbing you, well, attempting to.” 

Your fear was slowly melting away as you realised how stupid the criminal was. “What do you want me to do with that information?” “Whatever you do, please don’t tell the police, Minho will kill me.” “Who?” “The guy who organises this shit, whenever I fuck up, he stuffs tissues in my mouth.” 

“That seems pretty civil for a robber.” “Well, we don’t usually hurt people. Unless they want us to.” “Was that meant to be a threat, or an attempt at flirting?” “Flirting, but it obviously didn’t work since you didn’t even realise I was trying to flirt.” He said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Well, maybe you should try harder.” “We can save that for another day angel.” You felt your face flush a little after hearing that.

“Another day?” “Well you’ve left your window open these past few nights, so your house is the easiest to rob.” 

“Oh this isn’t my house, I’m just staying here for a bit.” “Are you sure you should be telling me that?” “Honestly, you don’t seem that much of a threat so I don’t really care.” “You don’t seem like much of a threat either.” “What do you mean?” “You haven’t attempted to kill me yet. I mean, someone has chased me down a road with a guitar before, so compared to that…” You cut him off with a giggle and sat up a little bit. 

“You also haven’t called the police yet, unless you’re planning to.” You thought to yourself for a second then looked back at the robber. “I’m actually enjoying this.” “Damn, you must be really bored.” “Yep.” He rocked back and forth awkwardly for a bit and then finally spoke up. 

“Well, I’ll just take this.” He held up an item. “What are you taking?” “I genuinely don’t even know, I can barely see.” “I think-” You squint trying to figure out what the object is. “that’s an empty bottle of Mountain Dew?” “Ah. Valuable!” He picked it up and started climbing out of the window. 

“Wait! Are you gonna tell me your name?” “I’ll tell you next time, as long as you leave your window open again.” 

And with that, he was gone. You began to berate yourself for the absolute stupidity of what you just did. 

‘You let a burglar into your aunt's house!’ ‘What would she think!’ ‘What if he comes back and gets violent?!’ 

But with all of that, you couldn’t help but feel excited for the next time you leave your window open.

Author note: Thank you so much for reading! I seriously appreciate it. This was actually based off of a dream I had! (which was a lot more chaotic but whatever)Like always, constructive criticism is wanted! I'm planning to make a part two to this so if you found it interesting stay tuned! If you liked this, please follow me for more fanfics like this one <3 Thank you!

Masterlist

[pandasleepy07]

Ghostober - Day 15 [Pebble]

"Darling, it's beautiful, thank you!"

WC: 755

The day Pebble’s summoning happened, crows gathered outside the Abbey, the sun shone a little brighter than normal, the garden was flourishing and the animals of the forest had been seen creeping closer to the Abbey as if sensing that they were getting a new friend. It was odd, this hadn’t happened with any of the other earth ghouls, not on their summoning days. It was brushed off by most of them, well everyone but Alpha, who had been around long enough to notice when shit wasn’t right.

They all gathered in the summoning room, leaning against the walls, and each other, some talking quietly as they waited for Terzo to arrive. Bets were placed on how tall and lanky this earth ghoul would be. Most earth ghouls were large and lean, it was practically a elemental trait at this point. So it was only normal for them to assume the new summon would be tall too, right?

Terzo appeared, and the summoning went off without a hitch, or at least it did until the ghouls spotted the tiny little earth ghoul that appeared in front of them. Jaws dropped, scoffs escaped, and looks were exchanged.

“Terzo, you’re not supposed to summon a child,” Alpha roars, taking a step forward.

Their papa can only raise his hands in a surrendering movement, opening his mouth to speak before the tiny earth ghouls speak up, “I’m not a child you cunt.”

Snickers are smothered by the other ghouls, hands over mouths, heads dipped down, bodies shifted away as Alpha’s head snaps to the side, his eyes widening a fraction in surprise before narrowing, “Ah fuck, it’s an evil gnome.”

“Ah fuck, a grumpy grandpa,” the small earth ghoul grumbles.

Delta steps in before Alpha can tear the small ghoul apart, shooting Alpha a glare before walking up the alter. He grabs a blanket and drapes it over the smaller ghoul’s shoulders. Terzo steps up, placing a hand on Alpha’s arm, a silent order to stand down before following Delta up to the alter where the small earth ghoul is blatantly ogling Delta. 

“What’s your name little one?” Terzo asks.

That pulls the ghoul out of his stupor. His gaze snaps to the Papa. “Uh- Pebble.”

Terzo smiles, “Hello, Papa. I’m Terzo. You’ve been summoned to assist me here on the mortal planes. Do you accept this role and vow to tether your soul to mine?”

Pebble nods, his gaze flickering between Alpha, Delta and Terzo. He can see the other ghouls behind the Papa but none of them have caught his attention like Alpha and Delta have. “I do,” Pebble whispers, his gave finally falling on Terzo’s face again.

It’s been a week since Pebble was summoned. A week full of ghoul piles and being squished between Delta and Alpha, or in Pebble’s world, a week of pure bliss. For Delta and Alpha, it’s been a week full of finding Pebbles quirks and ticks. One thing they found out was Pebble loved smooth and shiny things. They had gone out for a walk, and Pebble had spent an hour by the lake looking and collecting rocks. 

“Pebble, wake up,” Delta murmurs as Alpha walks into the den, a small bag full of pebbles and rocks that he knows Pebble will like in his hand.

“Mmmm?” Pebble groans, stirring slightly, only to roll over, and nuzzle closer to Delta. 

Alpha scoffs, “Course gnome here chases after you when I brought him a gift.”

“Alfie?” Pebble mumbles sleepily, a hand coming up to his face to rub sleep from his eye.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Alpha huffs, puffing out a breath of steam, something that happens when he’s annoyed or pissed off, or both. And with Pebble, it’s usually both.

Pebble just shoots the fire ghoul a small sleepy smile that melts the smallest bit of his grumpy exterior. “Whadda bring me?”

Alpha tosses the bag to the earth ghoul who rolls out of the way, too tired to catch it. Delta chuckles as Pebble shoots Alpha a sleepy glare before he reaches out and picks up the bag, slowly going through the stone, pebbles and rocks. A small slow smile spreads across his face as he pulls out a rock that has been broken open and holds a shimmery red stone inside. "Darling, it's beautiful, thank you!" Pebble whispers.

“It’s not much,” Alpha responds gruffly, brushing it off.

Pebble holds it up, “It’s the same colour your eyes glow when you use your powers.”

๋࣭🕸🦇🕸๋࣭ ⭑Ghostober Masterlist 2024⭑ 🕸๋࣭ ⭑🦇🕸 ๋࣭

A/n: There is a short dialogue from @wrathofrats that inspired this piece, and I added it in

[rottenroyalebooks]

Love Drunk - 0.1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x older sister!Harrington reader

Also includes: Steve Harrington x sister!reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N Harrington left Hawkins as soon as she turned eighteen with her boyfriend to follow her dreams of being a Rockstar. Three years later, she returns to Hawkins alone and scarred. Now, she has to repair her broken relationship with her younger brother, all while trying to prevent herself from falling for a cute metal head who plays at the Hideout, where she works.

Warnings: None.

Next ->

Driving back to Hawkins, Indiana, was the last thing I thought I would do.

I wouldn't say I liked this hellhole and got away as soon as possible. I never wanted to see the all-too-familiar roads and trees filled with bad memories.

Why did I come back here if I hated this place so much? My life fell apart underneath my feet, and I had no choice.

The drive was long and taxing, but I had a caravan from the 60s that still worked beautifully, so I didn't have to stay in any motels. I left California with a few boxes of my possessions and my black and white Saint Bernard Baxter, and we hit the open road together. It was a long trip, but eventually, I pulled into the driveway of my family home, which was pitch black.

Being late into the night, I was not surprised that the house was dark. I pulled my van into the backyard so it wouldn't be seen by anyone who drove by. I turned my van off and climbed into the back of my caravan, grabbing my travel bag and waking Baxter up so he wouldn't be sleeping outside in the cold.

I tried the back door, but it was locked, so I had to grab the spare key that was always kept underneath my mother's favorite garden gnome. I scoffed, showing the key to Baxter, who tilted his head. "See? They're predictable."

Once I unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place, I crept into the kitchen slowly, with Baxter trailing behind me and lazily trudging around. I poked my head into the garage, seeing it bare of any cars, and scoffed, "Nobody's home? They're probably away on business again." I pulled myself back into the house and closed the door.

I started thinking about my little brother Steve. He must have been nineteen, probably off at some fancy university far away from this town. Good for him.

I found my way to my old bedroom, letting Baxter in with promises of bedtime, and closed the door behind me. The room had barely been touched, though my parents were never home enough to care about what had happened. My bed was a mess, my posters were still on the walls, my desk was nearly covered in junk, my old makeup lay on the dresser, and my records were still in a box I had put together.

Sighing happily, I put my backpack on a chair and watched as Baxter jumped onto my bed, making himself as comfortable as possible. I sat on the bed next to my nightstand, which held the phone I had begged my parents to put in for me. I picked it up, hearing the dial tone and beeping as I pressed one of the few numbers I had memorized.

I pressed the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing. Finally, after a few rings, there's a male voice coming from the receiver, "I swear to god, somebody better be dead if you have the bright idea of calling me at three in the fucking morning."

I held back a laugh, "Jim! Hey, it's Y/N,"

I could almost feel his mood lighten, "Y/N? I never thought I'd hear your voice again! How've you been, kid?"

"Could be better. it could be worse. I'm back in town wondering if the pub needs a bartender."

He hummed lightly, "Luckily for you, Paul retired two weeks ago, and I've been having trouble finding decent help. You got any experience bartending?"

I smiled, thankful that he didn't push my return further, "I was a bartender for three years. I kept my nights busy."

"Perfect, you're hired. Can I go back to bed now?"

Giggling, I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me, "Yes, yes, sorry for calling so late. Goodnight, Jim." I placed the phone in the receiver and began stretching, getting myself ready to sleep.

My peace didn't last very long as my door swung open, revealing none other than my little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, welding a baseball bat in his hands. I jumped slightly and held my hands up in surrender, "Whoa, whoa! Steve?"

He stared at me, his features melting into a look of surprise, "Y/N?" He kept the bat high up in the air.

The two of us spoke in unison, "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first, twerp."

He looked at me with an exasperated expression, "I'm literally the one with the bat."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as the adrenaline died down, "I have an attack dog. Don't make me sick him on you."

He glanced behind me, looking at Baxter; smirking, he just looked back at me as he lowered the bat, "Oh yeah, he's an attack dog alright."

I looked over my shoulder and turned to look at Baxter, who laid there unbothered; passed out nearly dead to the world. If it weren't for the slow rise and fall of his upper body, I would have thought he was dead.

"I could be facing an actual murder right now, and you would just be blissfully aware until you woke up to see my dead body."

Steve sighed, "N/N, what happened?"

I turned back to him, "I'm back in Hawkins. Mom and Dad don't need to know. Hopefully, I'll find a place of my own soon. Trust me, you'll barely know I'm here."

He just stared at me, his expression unreadable as he contiplated my words. He grew a lot since I last saw him. His hair was shorter back then. He was shorter. He's no longer the scrawney kid I had to protect in my senior year, when he was merely a freshman.

I probably looked different, too, but in other ways.

"I should probably get some rest, I have an early shift." He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, kid. We'll talk later,  I want to know everything I've missed." I smirked, grabbing the covers and pulling them over my legs, "Hit the lights on the way out?"

He chuckled lightly, nodding, "Yeah, goodnight, Melody." He baked out of the doorframe, flipping the lights off for me before closing the door, leaving me to stare up at the ceiling; which still had the glow in the dark stars on it.

Baxter rolled over a bit, cuddling into my side as we got comfortable in my bed.

[yuckydraws]

A lil oneshot that I'm thinking might become the start of an ongoing fic? We'll see.

Pairing: (HT Sans/reader) with hints of (UT Papyrus/reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Build Up My Heart

It’s fucking hot.

You wipe the sweat off your brow and sigh, looking at all the work you and your team accomplished today. You’ve finally finished the framing for the guest house this family of… rather odd skeletons, have hired you to build. And you understand why.

This already large, cabin-like home is practically overflowing with them.

In your time here, you’ve counted at least twelve.

Twelve people. In one home that, yes, is large, but can’t hold more than maybe five or six bedrooms. 

It’s a wonder they haven’t ripped each other’s heads off - you’ve overheard a fight or two when you’ve taken your lunch on the lawn… and man do some of them argue.

When you first started working here, you swore you were going crazy. Almost every time you saw one of them it was one you’ve never seen/met before. Yet they all seem to look alike in some way, though you’ve kept that to yourself. Maybe that’s just how it is for skeleton monsters, who are you to say something ignorant like that?

Sans and Papyrus, the two skeletons you’ve spoken with the most, have been patient with every setback this project has had, though you can almost see the exhaustion in their sockets every time they pop over to talk progress. Makes you wonder if they’re the “peacekeepers” of the home.

But, then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be wondering too much. You’re just here to work, get the job done, and eventually move on to the next. Which will likely be another cookie cutter house in a subdivision.

… you’ll admit, though, that you’re going to miss seeing some of the wacky things they do.

And seeing that absolutely gorgeous garden of theirs.

It’s basically your dream. It packs an impressive variety of fruits and vegetables all neatly growing in raised garden beds. Marigolds are scattered about, likely to keep pests away, and there’s much more flowers where that came from - all of which look happy and content if their blooms are anything to go by. Whoever planned the garden, took convenience into account as well. An array of herbs grow right behind the decorative arch to the entrance of the garden. Just in case anyone just needs to grab a quick little something for a recipe.

Stars, you’d love to trade your apartment windowsill, grown out of an old milk jug, herbs for a lovely stroll to this garden. Who wouldn’t?

It also has a line of fruit trees lining the north side of the garden, likely so as not to block the sunshine. Whether those were here when they purchased the land and they planned the garden around it, or not, you wouldn’t doubt that whoever planned this garden would have the foresight for that. 

Currently, ripe peaches hang from one tree, and apple blossoms grow on another. Makes you wonder what the other two trees produce, but they must not be in season at the moment with their bareness. 

As if all that wasn’t enough, they also topped off this garden with strewn lights, stone pathways, and goofy gnomes.

A garden like this looks like a full time job, yet you’ve never seen who tends to it. You’ve seen some of the household members pick from it, but never who makes sure the weeds stay away, or who manages the more sensitive plants.

You wonder who it is.

“Hey, didn’t ya hear?” A voice calls you from your thoughts. You pry your gaze away from the garden and meet your coworker’s gaze. “It’s quittin’ time.”

“Yeah, I heard.” You confirm, slipping your gloves off. Not that those gloves protect your hands from the rough calluses littering your palms, but they do help them feel less sore at the end of the day. “The boss wants me to meet with those skeletons to go over the next step.” You thank whatever is up there that you actually have an excuse for your daydreaming this time.

“Right, I forgot that you’re a bigwig supervisor now.” He teases. You roll your eyes, that title hardly means anything yet. “Well, we’re all meetin’ at Al’s for drinks, if ya wanna join later.”

You would rather not.

“We’ll see, thanks Ron.” You neither accept nor decline. He gives somewhat of a salute before slipping away with the rest of the bunch.

Slipping your hardhat off, you await the arrival of your boss, scrolling on your phone in the meantime. It’s not long until you hear the rumble of his truck pulling up, and you quickly pocket the device in your hands. 

Out hops Ted, clipboard in hand and that aggravating smile on his face.

He’s nice enough, but something about him has always felt a little fake. However, playing nice with the boss was what got you this promotion, so you’re not about to jeopardize that now. Waving you over, he greets the skeleton brothers who approach him rather quickly. Must have been waiting just like you. Eager wouldn’t begin to explain how much they want this project to move along.

You catch the tail end of greetings, shaking both Sans and Papyrus’ hands as you’re formally introduced (though, you’ve already had multiple conversations with them while working). Your boss cracks some jokes that you half laugh along to, before he finally gets down to business. Listening intently, and chiming in when necessary, you learn what you already knew. Plumbing, HVAC, electrical, etc. needs to happen before you and your team can continue. It’ll be contracted out, yadda yadda yadda.

Just as you’re beginning to think you have no reason to be a part of this conversation, it’s… over. Yeah that was a waste of a half hour, though you suppose you may be giving clients this talk at some point so it’s likely important to hear.

Ted wraps things up, shakes their hands again, and takes his leave. Sans slips away after that, claiming that he has something that he needs to get back to. You almost follow and take your leave as well, but Papyrus, who’s always been more social, gets you pausing.

“WELL, HUMAN, I SUPPOSE WE WON’T BE SEEING YOU FOR A LITTLE BIT.” He says. You’ve long since gotten used to his loud voice. You smile.

“Gonna miss me that bad?” You tease. Oddly enough, a light flush of orange rises to his cheekbones. Interesting

“W-Well… I ALWAYS ENJOY OUR TALKS WHEN I BRING OUT WATER.” He blurts. Ah, yes, the water. Ultimately unneeded, but very much appreciated.

“It’ll be a few weeks, at most.” You remind him. He beams at that.

“YES, I SUPPOSE YOU’RE RIGHT.” He agrees. It warms your heart that he seems to care even that much. It’s not often homeowners even talk to you and your crew, let alone be as kind as Papyrus has been. “WELL, YOU’VE HAD A LONG DAY, I WON’T KEEP YOU.”

You check your watch and wince.

“Yeahhh… I still got to run to the store to get some tomatoes for this recipe I’m making, so I should-”

“WE HAVE TOMATOES!” Papyrus all but blurts. You blink up at him. That orange flush is back.

Huh.

“We U-Uh… WE HAVE THAT GARDEN, I’M SURE YOU’VE SEEN IT!” You tilt your head at his words, not wanting to assume where he’s going with this - he is a client after all. “WE HAVE PLENTY, YOU SHOULD PICK SOME AND SAVE YOURSELF A TRIP.”

At any other jobsite, you’d have quickly refused… but something about his hopeful smile and genuinity of the offer has you softening like butter. Plus… you’d get to see that beautiful garden up close.

“You sure? I don’t want to overstep…”

“POSITIVE! I THINK BEAR IS IN THE GARDEN RIGHT NOW, HE COULD SHOW YOU WHERE THEY’RE PLANTED!” 

“Bear?” You ask, wracking your brain for which skeleton he’s referring to. You haven’t been introduced to many of them.

“YOU HAVEN’T MET HIM.” Papyrus says with absolute certainty. “HE AVOIDS TENDING TO IT WHEN YOU GUYS ARE HERE WORKING.”

Oh.

“Well, are you sure he’ll want me wandering in there, then?”

“OH, I’M SURE HE’LL BE ALRIGHT WITH IT, HE JUST… HAS TROUBLE SOCIALLY. HE’S NICE, THOUGH.”

You hesitate. This Bear obviously enjoys gardening in the peace and quiet, who are you to interrupt that? However… it’s nearing 7pm and you’re ravenous. A trip to the store sounds like torture. 

As if sensing your dilemma, Papyrus pivots, placing a hand on your shoulder and urges you back around the house. “I’LL GO WITH YOU, TO ASSURE YOU ALL IS WELL.” You just nod and follow along, both because it feels like nothing you do will change his mind, and because of your selfish desire to just get done with this day sooner.

Your workboots sink into the plush clover lawn as you both make your way across the backyard to the garden. Your eyes are captured once again, by said garden, and you almost don’t notice the rather large skeleton tending to the flowerbeds in towards the front until Papyrus speaks from across the short fencing.

“BEAR, IS IT ALRIGHT IF MY FRIEND HERE PICKS SOME TOMATOES?”

You look to where Papyrus is speaking, and the first thing you see is the gaping hole in this skeleton’s head.

Holyfuckisheokay?? How-

You look to Papyrus in concern, but see him just… smiling down at you? Confused, you look back to this skeleton, crouched behind a garden bed and lock eyes (eye?) with the bloated, bright red eye-light filling the socket that isn’t scarred from his head wound. You… can’t tell what he’s thinking, with that blank expression of his.

But seeing as this is apparently normal for him, you’re now worried you’ve offended the guy.

Maybe magic helps monsters survive the seemingly unsurvivable? It’s not like he has any internal organs in his skull… maybe that’s why-

You’re pulled from your thoughts as this apparent behemoth stands up.

Oh.

Oh my.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s called ‘Bear’. He’s certainly a bear in every sense of the word. Large, imposing, intimidating… and did you mention huge?? Now, you aren’t small. You’ve kept up in construction for almost a decade now and it shows… but you still feel like a twig, craning your neck to look up at him.

However, the dirt covered overalls he’s wearing, definitely takes away from some of his initial intimidating demeanor.

“... sure.” He rumbles, blank expression still giving no clue to where his mind is.

Holy fucking baritone-

Papyrus pats you on the back and beams at Bear.

“THANK YOU! I’M GOING TO START ON DINNER, OKAY?” You numbly nod, trying to force your thoughts away from where they want to go. “SEE YOU IN A FEW WEEKS, HUMAN!” Tearing your eyes away from Bear, you wave back to Papyrus and watch him retreat into the home. You wait until he’s inside to take in what you hope is a subtle deep breath.

You about leap into the air, when you turn around and find Bear right behind you, at the entrance of the garden. Clutching your chest, you remind yourself to relax. How’d he get there? And so quietly, too…

And you swear you see this giant quirk the smallest of smiles at your jumpiness. 

He thinks he’s funny, huh? Asshole.

You stare up at him, flushing and definitely not pouting. “Ah, uh, thanks for letting me steal some tomatoes, you’re saving me a trip to the store.” You decide to be polite. After all, you were the one to gawk first, perhaps you deserved a bit of payback.

He just grunts.

And you both just… stand there. After a few moments of silence, you speak up.

“So… where are they?” You inquire, glancing around at what you can see of the garden, but it’s hard when you have a seven foot wall of solid skele-man right in front of you. 

“where are… what?” He asks.

You tilt your head. He just said…

“The tomatoes?” You try, maybe he spaced out when Papyrus asked him if it was okay… and when you just mentioned them a second ago?

He seems to recall something, if the twitch of his bone brows are to say much. Nodding, he turns and lumbers through the rows of flowerbeds. Assuming that’s an invitation for you to follow, you rush to fall into step behind him and his large strides… but, you quickly fall behind as you start to admire the garden’s beauty up close. Your steps slow as you stroll past the growing cauliflower plants. These can be incredibly hard to grow… how did he…?

You gingerly touch one of the leaves, and look up to Bear, who’s stopped and turned to look at what’s keeping you.

“How do you get these to grow so well?” You ask, smiling excitedly at him. He blinks, large shoulders relaxing a bit, as if he was expecting you to ask something else.

He reaches into his overall pocket, and slips out what looks like a very well-loved notebook. You watch curiously, but patiently as he opens it and flips through it. You’re unsure what the notebook has to do with his answer but you’re willing to wait and find out.

He pauses on a page and looks back to you, seeming to ponder something before deciding ‘fuck it’, as he approaches you and hands the book to you. It’s got various dirt stains, and some pages have been taped back in where they’ve come loose, so you treat it with care as you take it from his grasp. And there, on the page you see notes in small, neat handwriting. Research notes, with drawings and everything. The topic being the little cauliflower plant you’re standing next to.

Some of it seems to just be information taken from the internet and put in short form, while others seems to be from actual trial and error. You skim his writing, noticing that he’s scratched some things out but towards the end, he seems to have figured out the perfect schedule for the plant to thrive.

You’re tempted to flip through the book and read more, but you refrain. That seems like an invasion of privacy.

“Wow, that’s really cool that you go as far to take all these notes. You must really enjoy this, huh?” You ask, handing it back to him. He stares at it in his hands for a moment, before putting it back in his pocket.

He just nods.

“Not much of a talker?” You tease lightheartedly, trying to see if you can get any sort of… anything out of this guy other than blank staring and slightly intimidating silence.

He shrugs, and turns back around, leading you again.

But you’re not done.

“You’ve really built something beautiful here, ya know?” You continue. He just keeps walking. “This is amazing! It could almost be considered a small farm! Though, I guess with all your housemates to feed, it’s just a garden, huh?”

Still no answer, but you swear he starts walking a little faster if the way you have to almost jog to keep up is anything to go by.

“The flowers too? Man, this must be a full time job that, I’ll be honest, I’m a little jealous of! I’d be in here all day if I was able to! This is absolutely gorgeous, Bear! Do you take care of this all by yourself? You really have a talent, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly Bear stops, leaving you to walk right into his back… which given his height means you faceplant right into his spine. He barely budges, yet the force of it knocks you on your butt. You grunt and rub at your smarting nose. Damn, this dude is solid.

His red light stares down at you, from the corner of his good socket. He doesn’t apologize, or offer you a hand, just simply points to the tomato plant in front of him.

“... tomato.” He mutters, then takes his leave, stepping over your sprawled legs and heading back to the flower bed he was working on.

… huh, you could’ve sworn, you saw the faintest hints of blue on his cheekbones.

Chuckling to yourself, and once again, thinking that these skeletons are silly, you pick yourself up and dust off your pants. Not that. You really need to dust off your already dirty work clothes, but it feels right.

You lean over the tomato plants in question, finding quite a little variety in the garden bed. Roma, cherry, black krim, campari - and those are just the ones you can name. Dinner in this house must be full of all the most delicious, fresh produce.

Once again, you’re a little jealous.

You pick a few ripe and tasty looking romas, and call it good. While you’d love to experiment with some of the others, this was a kind offer from a friend and given to you by an acquaintance, you’re not about to take advantage of either of them. Holding your goods protectively to you, you wander back to the entrance of the garden, where Bear is once again knelt in front of one of the flowerbeds, tugging at some stubborn looking weeds.

He glances at you as you approach him. You hold up your three tomatoes and grin at him. “Thank you for these, you saved me a trip to the store!” A nod is all you get. “And… speaking of the store, I feel bad just taking these, I have cash?”

That gets him to fully turn his skull to look at you, and you take that as a yes.

“This is about a pound, I’d say, so how about I just give you an even $5?” You offer. Yet again, he just stares. 

“... I mean I can look up how much it is at the store or you can give me a price too, if you’d rather…” You ramble, feeling a little awkward under that stare of his. You just met the guy today, and he’s proving to be extremely hard to read.

You’re about to just reach into your pocket and pull out a $10 (way too much, but you’d pay anything to get out of this awkward silence), when your stomach growls rather loudly. His stare moves to your belly.

“Ah, uh, yeah it’s dinner time, huh?” You try to joke it off. His light flits back to your face, and finally, he just waves you off.

“... You don’t want money?” You ask tentatively. He shakes his head.

“... go home.” He rumbles, yet his tone isn’t rude, “go eat.” He adds. Your shoulders release tension you didn’t even quite realize was there and the awkwardness finally fading, and you offer him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day. I really appreciate it.”

He hums.

“... and I hope you know you don’t have to wait until our team leaves to tend to your garden. This is your home, we’re just working here.”

He raises a skele-brow at your words, looking unimpressed as he gestures to the sizable hole in his skull. You hold back a wince as you remember your reaction. You know the guys you work with, and you also know that your reaction is probably going to be the most tame one he gets.

“Right… I uh, I’m really sorry for how I reacted, I thought it was a recent injury and I was worried you needed an ambulance or something cause humans can’t survive something like that, but that was really insensitive.” You murmur. His stare seems to slightly soften at that, but you barely notice that as an idea pops in your brain. Instantly, you brighten. “Wait here! I’ve got an idea, I will be right back!”

And with that, you start a careful jog to your old, beat up truck - not wanting to drop your precious produce. Once there, you deposit your small bounty into your upside down hardhat to keep them from rolling around, and then pop open your rather dirt-covered glove department. You’ve never really found the point in cleaning your truck that often when you just dirty it everyday after work. Digging through the mess of papers there, your hands find that knit fabric they were looking for.

“Ah hah!” You exclaim excitedly, closing your vehicle’s door and rushing back around the house to the garden that you left Bear at. He’s since moved on to a different flowerbed, but no amount of kneeling would hide that big frame of his and he’s rather easy to spot because of it.

Hearing the crunches on your loud footsteps in the gravel, he turns, seeming a little surprised that you actually came back.

You hold up the beanie in your hand, grinning at him as you let him connect the dots, it was one of your first crochet projects… and you misread the amount of links you’d need for it, resulting in a beanie that was ridiculously large for your head. You had meant to toss it or take it apart for the yarn, but it found its way into your glove department, and that’s where it’s stayed for almost a year. 

However, it seems to be the perfect size for this skeleton giant in front of you.

“Wanna see if it fits?” You ask, stepping closer. In your excitement, you don’t connect the dots that his skull might be a no-touching zone, and reach to slip it on. He quickly leans away from you, eyeing the beanie warily.

“Oh, right. Sorry, here.” You hold it out in an offer. He hesitantly takes it, staring at it for a long moment before glancing up to you. “It’ll stretch, if you’re worried about it catching those edges.” You assure him, not sure how sensitive the area around his injury is, but figuring it’s better safe than sorry.

After a few more moments of silence (that are beginning to feel a little less awkward), he slowly and carefully slips the beanie on his skull. He makes sure to stretch it and hold it a little ways away on his injured side of his skull, and soon it’s sitting nicely on his head.

A perfect fit.

“There! Now it’s hidden!” You say. He tilts his head. “I know it’s not fair that you can’t just waltz out here in broad daylight while we’re here without worrying about feeling judged, but it’s also not fair to have to hole yourself inside and wait until we leave to do your thing. I mean, it’s almost dark and you’ve got a lot more to do, and these string lights only illuminate so much.” You explain.

He nods, slipping it off and moving to hand it back to you, as if he’s not aware it’s a gift.

“Keep it, think of this as a trade for the yummy tomatoes! Plus, I think you look cute in it.” You say, smiling again as you see the slight blue return to his face. “If you decide you don’t like it, feel free to do whatever you’d like with it, it’s not like it’ll fit my head anyways.” You say with a little laugh.

A low rumbling noise escapes Bear. You tilt your head, and it doesn’t click until you see the smile on his face and his shoulders bouncing slightly. He’s chuckling at you.

You ignore the growing warmth on your face at hearing more of that very attractive voice of his, and let out a few little giggles of your own, closing your eyes as you do.

So, you’re none the wiser when Bear slips the beanie off of his head and moves closer to you in that silent way he does. It’s not until he plops the article onto you that you sputter and open your eyes, only to be met with your lashes brushing against the yarn and your vision being hindered by the way the beanie practically reaches the bottom of your nose. Reaching up, you lift it up and find Bear grinning at you.

“... no, it doesn’t… does it?”

He’s making fun of you. Again.

Jokingly pouting, you slip it off and toss it back at him, where it bounces off his chest harmlessly and falls into his lap. He guffaws at that, his little chuckles turning into a deep belly laughter. 

It’s infectious, and soon, you’re joining in again.

It’s not until your stomach makes your hunger loudly well known again, that he sobers, looking serious once again.

“... you need… to eat.” He reminds you.

You smile sheepishly, and try not to be too disappointed at having to leave. You were just getting him outta his shell a bit!

“Yeah, I do. Your dinner will be ready soon, too, I bet.” You say, shifting your weight on your feet as you stall just a moment longer. “I uh, hope to see more of you.”

He just stares again, but there’s a sharpness missing in his light.

“Goodnight, Bear.” You say, pivoting to take your leave. He doesn’t say anything right away, and you just assume he won’t, given what you’ve learned about him today.

But as you start to walk back to your truck, you hear a quiet, “goodnight.” from Bear. You smile again, turning to give him a little wave that you don’t see if he returns as you round the corner of the house.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi cuties, i'll leave this here for your entertainment.

A little fic i've written just for fun, i don't even know if i'm gonna make it longer or leave it as a one-shot experiment.

Hope you enjoy!

And hope my english is not a mess too

DISCLAIMERS: ReaderxGhost, smut (not so much, but we have masturbation and a little bit of anal fingering, dunno if you may like, but really it's just a hint), dirty talking, chocolate for breakfast, little bit of moans, dom, gym rat character (yes i can't live without weights).

..............................................................................................................................

I believe Simon is that kinda man who starts with the rough way, being the "bad policeman".

At first he doesn't trust you.

Obviously.

You get acquainted, begin to talk more often, share moments together: he drinks his coffee for breakfast, complaining about the lack of tea at the base, while you spend twenty minutes backing your cocoa oatmeal with chocolate on top. He glares at you like you're some sort of stupid child, but eventually he helps you reach the top shelf where someone put your goddamn honey (white sugar is for the weak), since you're a gnome.

And the two of you start to talk. Well, at first you exchange brief comments and monosyllabic answers.

Than some curiosities escape through your lips: about what the hell are you doing at the base (you've appeared from nowhere all of a sudden), why you've chosen the military life (since you really do look like a little happy garden gnome); why he's wearing the scariest of the mask you've ever seen (he won't answer to this, though); why you and Jhonny keep on exchanging slaps on the butt (someone have lost a bet).

The day he'd spotted you make your kinda breakfast for Gaz too (he's got a sweet tooth), you'd ended up baking for the entire task force. And your chocolate get right to their hearts.

He keeps on looking at you with curiosity. Sometimes he thinks you're a little bit…dumb. He thinks it a lot: when you try to open the door with your elbow since you've got fresh nail polish and don't wanna ruin it (in a goddamn military base); when you daydream about where would you like to do a piercing, spending every pause from work looking at pinterest references. When he finds you eating breakfast at 5 am, or laying everywhere on the ground under the sun (he asked you about it, and you answered that you were doing photosynthesis). He does think you live in your magical world made of unicorns and chocolate.

Then he sees you at the gym, deadlifting a goddamn truck, pushing hell with your chest which seemed so little to him, carrying weights that the other rookies could only dream about.

You end every training drained from every bit of energy, doing whatever you have to even if some mornings you'd rather jump from an airplane; and every training finishes with a big smile toward your Lt., which seems so proud of you, a little gnome made out of bricks and chocolate.

He starts to trust you. You've never fought together on a mission, but he begins to look at you as a reliable human being. At least none of his comrades had died 'cause of your breakfast yet, you've never missed a meet, you finish your duties every day. 

The other guys from task force 141 seem to like you like some sort of stray kitten suddenly jumped at the base, treating you like a little one even if you're almost thirty. But it doesn't seem to annoy you, and your weird friendship with Soap and Gaz ends up doing "photosynthesis" together in the little garden spot under Price's office window.

Everything is cool, everything is nice…till something goes wrong.

And there you are, one particularly lonely night, in the precise month period in which you could fuck a light pole (thanking your incoming menstruations), with hormones filling you like a pie and almost dripping from your nose. 

There you are, closing your eyes, lying on the bed with your legs spread, thinking about whatever helps you finish your "necessary duty" as soon as fuck.

There you are, touching you like crazy, rubbing that poor clit of yours just to try gain some peace of mind.

You're usually silent: neither a breath nor a moan. But this time…this time it's too strong, you're too needy, your brain is melting under the pleasure and the smallest, tiniest whine escapes through your lips. 

<Was everything good last night?>

The next morning starts with this question, a large cup of coffee (you've slept like shit), your oatmeal and Ghost's eyes looking at you silently, inquiring, unreadable.

He waits for an answer, and your eyelid glitch.

Fuck

And you know he heard. 'Cause you know, there's no need to ask. 

<No> 

You surprise even yourself by being so honest. You're ready to make something up, even if he doesn't need to know why you weren't good. 

But he stay silent.

And you bury your face in the oatmeal.

The entire day was spent submerged in documents and bureaucracy, so gym had to be done after dinner. You don't feel at ease: even in your oversize jumpsuit it seems that every seam is made just to collide with your sensitive spot, that's still hurting from yesterday night. 

You go straight to the lat machine, charging all of the weight you can, trying to distract your fucked up brain. 

You do the first set: it's hard, but you can handle it.

You do the second: at the third rep, you barely manage to bring the weight midway to you. Your back is pulling at its limits, your eyes are squeezed, lungs are burning with the lack of oxygen…and, at your limit, you open your eyes, looking at the mirror in front of you.

Error 404

The reflection of Ghost, incredibly showing his arms muscles in a t-shirt which you've never thought could fit his wardrobe, hit you like a truck. It's not just the arms: it's the veins and tattoos, biceps and strength, it's whatever you'd like to bite and you know you'd let his hands smack your body like a pillow.

All of a sudden.

Just 'cause you do like big muscles.

Or just 'cause you're craving to be touched like a clown fish craves his fucking anemone.

Your arms get weak for one goddamn second: you lose the grip on the weight, and a terribly audible, almost hissed moan runs through the gym.

You bite your lips immediately. That moment will be remembered as one of the shittiest times in your life, and you're wondering if it's better pretending to be dead on the seat, or running away with nonchalance…when your back bumps into something.

You raise your eyes, and he's crouched behind you.

Thank god you're alone.

Thank god you're behaving better than last night.

Thank god you're still sitting on the lat machine, since you wouldn't be able to stand.

<Are you doing it on purpose?>

You shake your head, not daring to speak. You don't know what could get out of your mouth. 

His hands have reached your sweatpants in a blink of an eye, rough enough that you thought you had to say goodbye to the elastic band; he's slipped under your panties, making some sort of low groan as he feels on his gloves how wet you are.

And now he's sailing in your cunt in every direction, making you tremble like an idiot clinged on the machine.

<There's no use in being so fucking silent now. You should've think about it earlier>

He takes his hand off your panties, and for good measure he slaps on your pussy so hard you know it will grow a bruise.

You're swallowing hot air, letting your shoulders bump in small movements as your breath is scattered, fast, hissed through your teeth.

And his already wet hand reaches your mouth, stuffing it with your juices, pressing on your tongue and sliding so deep inside that your throat starts to twitch. Mouth gets wet, filling with saliva, and you desperately try to not choke with his fingers still inside.

But he's got other plans; and leaning so close to your ear that you can feel the texture of his mask, he orders:

<don't you dare swallow, sweetheart>

And you stay still. 

Because you're an idiot? Maybe. A masochist? You've never thought so, but apparently yes.

You stay still while your body jerks by himself on the seat, trying to concentrate on your heavy nose breathing. Saliva drools over your chin in sticky, wet wires, and he collects them on his thumb, pulling them back on your mouth.

<Good girl, so effective in following orders>

You don't even dare looking at the mirror in front of you. Your pussy is a lake, so wet your ass could slip on the panties.

He knows.

And the other hand of him suddenly runs again under your underwear, pressing where the sun doesn't shine, sliding one finger in that hole in such a fast motion that you can't help but cry.

It hurts

It does, but the mixture of pain and arousal is confusing you. Your brain is not working, eyes start to get wet and mouth is choked by your saliva and his fingers, and everything smells like cunt's juices.

He pushes his finger deeper, and you know he's looking at your face through the mirror, dear god. 

His mask brushes again on your ear, on your cheek.

<You're gonna take everything, aren't you? You're tightening your ass pussy around my fingers, cumming on me like the good kitty you are, mucking up my gloves with your stinky juices»

There's nothing really right: the hole isn't the right one, the place isn't the right one, his tone and his attitude are colliding so badly with the picture of him you've got in your mind. 

But somehow you're managing to not question things.

You just can't. You're fried, burned, a little knot of dirty mess and moans choked in your guts and dripping in wetness, all tied in his grip, in his harsh voice, in his rough fingers that are digging everywhere but where you're desperately needy.

And you can't take anymore of it.

It's like hearing yourself from outside when you speak, every words trembled and choked in your saliva that's totally overflowed on your chin:

<please…i…need…>

Your brain doesn't allow you to finish the sentence, and Ghost chuckles on this last spark of dignity you have.

<Speak up kitty> 

He lets another finger slide inside your ass, pushing roughly to make space.

<I can't hear you>

His fingers get out of your mouth, just to spank your pussy again, making you finally break a loud moan.

He grips your throat in his hands, squeezing till he feels every ring of your windpipe under his fingertips.

Then he lets go.

He releases your body all of a sudden, leaving you empty and throbbing, wet and still needy, almost choked by your own saliva. 

And he seems…satisfied, somehow. Satisfied just by your only, lonely moan, wringed out of you with so much diligence.

You, his noisy little mess.

..............................................................................................................................

[evesaintyves]

for @remadoramicrofics - it outgrew microfic status, almost 2000 words, but i'm submitting it anyway. combining October prompt guts and October 14th challenge triptych.

three acts of bravery, maybe. read it below or on AO3 🎖

Packing up sets the world back in order. He learned to do it before he learned to tie his own shoes. With his mother clucking get your things, Remus—hurry now and his father directing the flight of reference-books into a box, wand swaying, face of stone, it was clear that sentimentality was only a weight to be dragged. He learned very quickly to snip any string that might tug at him—he is nothing if not a quick learner—and, eventually, to evade those ties altogether: to harbor no love for the peaked attic bedroom with the view of the river, the back garden overrun with primrose and gnomes. Nor the blue-eyed neighbor girl who peeked through the fence-slats. 

It is a kind of art, to keep a life small enough to fit inside one suitcase, and it has saved him from more tight corners than any countercurse he might throw in a duel.

When Tonks put her hands to her belly, eyes all sparkling with some unrecognisable joy, and said now, don't freak out, I have to tell you something: it was a strangling feeling, like a dog snapping at the end of its lead. There had always been a way, until now, to walk off and start again. This miscalculation would be the end of that. Now he was chained to his regret, she was chained to him, and the thing inside her was chained to its brutal future.

He didn't freak out. He watched her lips move, her hands grab at him, and calmly, silently, he made the only conscionable decision.

Tonks made a mess of the house before she left; even the velveteen hippogriff she bought for the baby is lying on the floor, eyeless, disemboweled and spilling its batting-scrap guts. She screamed at him, she called him a bastard. And a liar. It doesn't matter, he's been called worse. He's been worse. It was satisfying, in the end, to see her finally understand: she took her hands off him like she'd touched something disgusting, her mouth quivered, she backed away as if in terror: how can you just stand there, she breathed, raspy from all her carrying-on, and look at me like a fucking stranger?

Easy, he might have said. I am a fucking stranger.

But he didn't say anything because he didn't have to. She was crying so hard when she apparated off to her mother's that he thought she might splinch herself—and a week ago, or maybe even this morning, that might have curdled his insides with terror and dread. 

But he has unhooked himself from his insides. That's an art, too, and he's well-practiced: it can be every bit as natural, he finds, to feel nothing as it is to feel something. Easier, even, once you've mastered it. 

He clicks shut the suitcase, knots the length of twine.

James, he says to himself, I'll find him. I'll give everything I have.

It isn't much. He's got hands that know how to kill and the will to do it. He's got a ruined body, still absurdly walking the earth while so many more deserving have returned to it. He's got the shame of all his generation's failures, the cans they've kicked down the road to their children. And he's got a monster inside: lusting, ravenous, insane, goading him to go after her, bury his face in her powder scent and beg, to confess that I want you, I want to live, I want to have what I want—

What higher calling, for someone like him, than to put all that between Harry and a curse?

 

Shh-shh-shh, Tonks whispers. She presses a kiss to the warm dry scalp, with its menthol smell of ointment, its tickling hairs. We're going to Nan's house.

Teddy, on a brief intermission from wailing, roots his red little nose and mouth against her shirt. He's always hungry, he's been on her sore tits all day—he was latched when the call came from Kingsley. It is never enough.

She can't just wait. She's not a keeper-of-the-home-fires. She's springloaded, a coil of taut potential straining for release—trained to fight three-on-one, to throw jets of wandless fire from her open hands, to keep her pulse rate seventy-steady all the while. They need her, they can't spare her, what is she doing here?

Waiting for death to come and find her, that's bloody what. They'll step over Remus's body ( he's a good fighter, not the best —these awful thoughts won't stop— he's distracted, scared, has too much to lose. His clicky old knees could betray him. He'll think of the baby, lose his focus, miss by a centimetre and that's the end. It could have already happened ), they'll swarm the castle like driver ants, and then they'll come for Teddy. She'll be in pieces before she lets them get to him, but once she's gone he'll be so helpless, swaddled in his bassinet. She won't have it. She won't sit and let it happen.

She stands there for a moment, in the dark house, with Teddy bundled to her chest. He's winding himself up for another cry, back spasming, a bubble of snot in his nose. It'd all be easier if she could just get him to sleep, but she's not good at that—it's hard not to let it feel like a failure. He's cried so much in this house she can hear it even when he's quiet, the sound has soaked into the walls. This, here, is the life these three have only just begun to make: the kitchen table permanently sticky with jam, the tousled bed: biscuit crumbs on her side, a stack of books on his. The baby's things everywhere, socks and sleepsuits, corduroy dragon, the cot overturned in her rush to get going. Blankets gushing out over the rug.

That's what she's got to go and fight for. This is only the start! They've got years, so many years, so much happiness and lost time to make up! So many knuckle-kisses, murmured sweetnesses under the duvet, Remus jiggling the baby through colic all night, giving her his worn-out smile from the doorway—God, fuck, she's never even told him about the time her dad took her to the zoo and she morphed herself a crest like the iguanas! The Obliviators had to come and zap everyone, Dad turned the colour of beetroot trying not to smile! He'll laugh himself sick!

She's got to go, so she can tell him. That and so many other things. He keeps appearing in her mind: sprawled across flagstone, hole burnt in his robes, face up and staring at the Great Hall's fake sky. Do you know what's up there, behind all the magic? he asked her once, years ago on a mission together, sitting hidden in the boughs of a tree. When she shook her head no, he said, Spiders. It's infested completely, there are a million. And cobwebs thick enough to swing on—don't ask me how I know. He waggled his eyebrows, charming in a way that was unlike him and perfectly fitting all the same. She was so taken by the thought of eight million eyes watching her little self perch on the stool at her sorting that she just grinned at him, gormless. He looked at her face like he was deciphering runes. And it's clear, now, that he was hers at that moment. Since that moment, he has been hers.

She won't let them have him. They've taken too much already: Dad, Mad-Eye, Sirius. The hope of every muggleborn kid who should have, this year, looked for the first time up into that indoor sky and felt the touch of wonder. She can't get it back, but she can make them pay for it. She's got enough revenge boiling down in her gut, it could power a thousand killing curses—she could explode with it, it could set her on fire—

C'mon, baby, she says. Teddy's shivering breath is so warm, so soft, on her chest. We've got to go.

 

When Nymphadora was a little girl, long before she got her wand, she used to break a stick off the sycamore tree and run about brandishing it, casting made-up hexes, making explosive sounds with her mouth. Halt! she'd shout at the imaginary enemy. Andromeda never knew where she'd gotten that. Ted's little black-and-white telly in his office, maybe. She'd jump off the garden wall, land on her face, pick herself up and announce, I'm okay! Even when she scraped up her elbows, even when she knocked out a tooth. She was always okay.

Andromeda has never asked—and who? Who would even tell her?—but she thinks that must have been how they found her. Faceplanted in the mud, wand out in front of her. Little warrior. When she handed the baby off that night she had that same look on her face: I'm okay, said through a mouth of blood.

Teddy is more of a dirt-digger, beetle-watcher, masher of rose hips into pretend potions. She has to stop him at the door and check his pockets lest he bring home a toad, a wriggling handful of earthworms. That's a bit of Ted coming through, she's pretty sure. This afternoon, she watched Teddy stop his potion-mashing, squint into the mess, and fish out a pill bug with his chubby little fingers. He held it up to show her: roly-poly, he said proudly. He's only just started pronouncing his Ls. He set the bug aside on the grass and recommenced his mashing.

Teddy's a lover, he doesn't like to kill things. That's the privilege of a peacetime child. For lunch he gets spaghetti hoops on toast, his grandfather's guilty favourite, and then a little kip upstairs. Andromeda cleans the mud off his dungarees, and off the carpet where he's tracked it in, and off the doorknob and the bathroom sink and his booster chair.

Nymphadora and Ted used to chuckle to each other at her arsenal of scrubbing charms, the shirts folded in squares. Like that sort of thing was her idea of fun. No. That was the daily fight against entropy. Her daughter, born under the standard of this potted aspidistra, raised in this tidy defiance of the mess outside, never understood. She went charging off with her wand out and left Andromeda to walk the floor all night for months with this little war on her shoulder, the baby that wouldn't stop screaming—and who could blame him? Andromeda understands that desperation, that longing for something impossible. The night they buried his parents, Teddy cried like he was begging God. 

Andromeda didn't. She doesn't beg.

I know what you think you're doing, Narcissa told her once, a week before she left with Ted forever. She'd cornered Andromeda in the upstairs hall, gripping her wrist and hissing so that Father in his study wouldn't hear. You think you're doing something brave. You're not, you're just running. Anyone can run.

Andromeda would never concede that she was right. She wasn't—not about Ted, not about leaving home. But still she thinks about it. There's an Order of Merlin upstairs, in the locked room that was Nymphadora's, gleaming in its velvet case. For her courage. Her sacrifice. There's no denying that she earned it. But days like this—when the house is silent and Andromeda is folding dungarees, rinsing tins of spaghetti hoops—she wants to take her long-gone daughter by the shoulders and say: my darling, you have no idea.

images by edward hopper: a room in brooklyn, sun in an empty room (detail), rooms by the sea (detail)

[teamcavota]

the secret gardener is my beloved as far as Gladstone comics go

like it perfectly plays on Gladstones shame towards work. Daisy is a gardener herself, and Gladstone having actual ability and interest in it could by all means be a great way to impress her. the only one who knows he does this work is Gyro, which presumably his luck set out for him to be able to talk about it with the scientist (in this case annoy the hell out of him to try finding solutions), while keeping up the facade to others closer to him. Gladstone is sorta annoying, but in a different way than he usually is because of his legitimate panic towards something he's put much care into seemingly going wrong. and it's this mixture of his love for his hobby and the fact nothing like this has happened to him that makes it almost understandable as to why he's running around town over a singular plant (which he calls his little friend after earlier in the comic saying "people want something out of me, plants just wanna grow") (are you a bit alone?). in frustration he's willing to knock on Daisy's door, and he ends up quite lucky both with the plant flowering and that Daisy's own interest in it causing her to ignore everything else about the situation. not that Daisy would know there is much to ignore, because (despite his worries) who would suspect Gladstone Gander of caring about a flower beyond a surface level way, as a flower/garden solely being something pretty to be shown off? as something he can win another contest for? so in the end, Gladstone can finally settle back into the facade of being one lucky gander who will never work a day in his life.

and man what the fuck is up with gnome

[totaldrama-showdowns]

Submissions that didn’t make it into the Best Outfit Showdown! Including invalid ones. With the amount of characters nominated, the requirement to enter became three separate submissions! Apologies if a character you submitted didn’t make it in!

millie

“it's very cute! cute colours and it's realistic. her boots are a little off but her jacket makes up for it #millie sweep”

Leonard

“he's got that garden gnome-type swag. that spellcaster rizz. look me in the eyes and tell me this absolute LARPing chad isn't drowning in [REDACTED].”

Junior

“he looks more like a teenager than anyone else. I look at him and think "yeah that's a 13 year old". they peaked”

Bear Suit Izzy

“Go girl, you slay in that fursuit”

Izzy (in her swimsuit)

“Her outfit fits her personality pretty well already, and i think her swimsuit's even better! Especially when she has a harpon. She would have a harpon.”

pilot chef

“he didn't go to flight school but he DID buy a pilots outfit and that's what really counts :)”

jo

“she was so real for showing up to an internationally broadcasted reality TV show in a hoodie and sweatpants”

Ella

“Her dress is actually pretty! Also her dress behind above her knees fits the environment she's in”

anne maria

“she slays idk”

the ice dancers, both of them.

“they served”

sugar

“idk I like her”

mike

“Minecraft”

Julia

“It just really works for her”

Rodney

“I would wear that”

Lindsay's up the creek outfit; José; Jasmine

“It's sooo awesome I fucking love it.jkirt (jean skirt) and a cool red top?? Slay I love her sooo much

José has blue and black which slaaaays Alejandro's colour scheme I'm sooo sorry but also not really

Jasmine. Nuff said yeah boyyyyyyyyy!!!”

The local from bjorken telephone

“She SLAYED that swan. We all know that. No one else dresses better than her”

KITTY!!!

“Her outfit is totally cute and I think it holds up today :D”

Jasmine

“The colors look really good on her and work well with the environment (A female character with proper shoes! wow!) and her personality. The attention to detail that since shes so tall she doesnt really properly fit into her clothes is funny”

Heather

“It's cunty. It's iconic. It screams "early 2000s" and it's so HEATHER”

Scarlett

“really really fucking cute. Highlights aspects of her character which is especially good for her being a twist villain. The colors harmonize well especially in scenes with dark colored backgrounds”

Blaineley

“What can I say? She's hot. The outfit works”

“her outfit makes sense, unlike all of the others on this show”

Princess Courtney

“It’s purple and Courtney is pretty and I like her :)”

Drama Brothers Harold

“idk why he was in the last poll his fit goes hard”

jen

“her outfit is so cute. i love her sweater. plus she’s literally a fashion blogger”

Josee

“the color scheme is nice and idk she looks cute i love her”

Ellody

“she looks so nerdy it fits her character so well. and her outfit is just adorable”

courtney’s human cricket costume

“the little antenna are so cute. and she was so smart for coming up with it. she deserved to win that challenge”

courtney in the weird blonde wig

“the outfit isnt that special but it’s so iconic. that moment changed lives”

Laurie

“ok largely this is because i had a crush on her when i was 11”

Gwen’s pajamas

“How come Gwen goes to sleep wearing an awesome fit but when she wakes up she looks at her 3 shirts and goes "Yeah this is perfect"”

Chase…

“His outfit is good. Only his outfit. I'm a big fan of it. Chase himself sucks tho”

SIERRA CODY SHIRT

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU SIERRA”

HEATHER BUNNY PAJAMAS

“shes soooo cute!! why didnt they keep those i luv u heather it was nice to see.. heather that likes pink bunnies she tries to keep that side of herself secret too often<3”

military tank top chef

“tom of finland slay”

Prison fit duncan

“finally”

craptry sugar

“SUGA HOLLA!!! it was sooo cute i loved it the pink jeans looked great and i definitely prefer the pink and white color scheme to her regular outfit and i love her regular outfit too! but pink jeans!! i luv u sugar”

Intern Dakota

“SHE SLAYED THAT”

“slayed what else is there to say <3”

Cowboy Chris

“bro’s got the drip”

Shed

“I love their cat headphones and their gamer chair. super swag”

“Love the gaming chair :)”

Bridgette

“Her hoodie is super cute imo”

camel

“i have vague memories of a camel slaying in rr”

Ripaxel

“They rock my world like a hurricane”