#I guess insurance is just taking a long time

[belle-of-a-time]

I think I told yall that my Dr’s office was very confused when I called to check in about the wheelchair and hip brace I requested they ask my insurance about, I have an appointment in an hour to talk about it again and if they lose the paperwork again I will be losing It.

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i WILL get to move back home

[rahabs]

Wide awake at 5 AM stressing about money.

[reginaofdoctorwho]

.

[imtryingbuck]

Neighbours.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s moved next door to you and your children, your children wants to play matchmaker.

Word count: 7,322

Warnings: fluff. angst (only a tiny bit though) children being adorable. reader nearly takes her finger off/blood. mention of a dead beat dad. Bucky being the cutest. Alpine being the cutest. swearing. mention of health insurance problems? I’m British so if I’ve gotten it wrong just…leave me alone. small mention of financial issues/being in debt. 

Masterlist

Opening the door to the apartment you shut it again, opening slowly before repeating the action a few more times, sighing in defeat that nothing had changed you took in the sight of the once cleaned apartment that now looked like a bomb had hit it.

Toys laid out on the floor, your daughters toy prams laying on their sides with the baby dolls hanging out of them, legos scattered around, broken crayons laid amongst the chaos.

“Kids?” You called out as you removed your coat.

“Oh…hi Y/n the kids are next door” Poppy your kid’s babysitter says as she pops her head around the corner.

“With Ms Hopewell?”

“Um no the new guy”.

Your heart stopped. The apartment next door had been empty since you and the kids moved in to your apartment two years ago, hearing that there was now a tenant living there didn’t bother you what bothered you was that it was a man who was alone with your children whilst the babysitter was-

“What was that?”

“They, um their next door” Poppy replies quickly.

“No I got that bit but what I want to know is who just coughed?”

“I-it’s my boyfriend-“

Oh your day just kept getting better and better.

“Get out. Your sacked”

“B-but Y-“

“No. Tell him to put his shirt on and I want you both to leave my home. Now”

The regret of not listening to Marina the mum of your daughters friend who had warned you not to hire the sixteen year old babysitter was hitting full force but at the time you was desperate and in need of a babysitter so you could work. Now you felt foolish that you gave her the benefit of the doubt, just for her to think it was acceptable to bring her boyfriend who you did not know into your home and to allow your children to be next door with a complete stranger.

Not listening to Poppy’s excuses you told her one more time to leave as you went next door where you could now hear your children’s cheerful voices.

The front door to the apartment was open, calling out for your kids where you heard them running towards you.

“Momma”

“What the hell do you think you two are doing? How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers.” You scolded despite seeing them okay and well.

“Mr Bucky isn’t a stranger momma” Cora your daughter says sheepishly.

“Mama” Jasper your son - the youngest out of the two - laughs as he pulls on your shirt.

Before you could reply to either child you hear soft footsteps coming towards you.

“I’m sorry Ma’am-“

“You can’t just let strange kids into your home-“

You cut yourself off when you look up. Not expecting a six foot, built like a brick wall yet looked soft oddly enough man. His bright blue eyes shined through the dimmed hallway, brown hair long enough to be pulled up in a bun that sat low on the back of his head, with a few strands of wavy hair framing his handsome face.

“Momma Mr Bucky has a black arm and it’s cold!” Cora giggled pointing at her left arm.

“Cora!” You scolded, apology on the tip of your tongue before this Mr Bucky laughed.

“It’s true, I do have a black arm” And that’s when you notice it.

“Momma guess how he lost it? Guess, momma guess” Cora jumped around on the spot causing Jasper to do the same.

“I-umm I’m not sure sweetie”

“He didn’t eat his veggies and his arm fell off!” She laughed “he told me and Jaspy that we have to eat all our veggies so it don’t happen to us” her eyes widened comically.

Looking up at the man who you assumed the worst of as he stood there with his arms crossed and a huge grin on his lips making his eyes crinkle.

“It’s true ma’am”

“Mama kitty” Jasper tugs on your shirt again, taking your eyes away from the man to your son who was pointing at a ball of white fluff as it came trotting over “name kitty mama”

“Her names Alpine-“ Cora tries to correct.

“No name kitty” Jasper pouts causing you and the man to laugh.

“You’re very right, her names kitty” he smiles softly. “By the way I’m James, well everyone calls me Bucky” He holds his right hand out for you to shake.

You tried to ignore the way his hand was warm, calloused yet soft, shaking his hand. “I’m Y/n”.

“It’s nice to meet you. And listen I’m really sorry that I had your kids in here, um they were outside in the hallway-“

“Excuse me?”

“T-they were outside” he points behind you “I had just came back from the store when I saw them, um Cora said that Poppy had a boy inside and they were told to play in the hallway” He winces as he scratches the back of his neck.

“It’s true momma. They were kissing” you grimaced and the anger you felt for your now former babysitter increased.

“Cora said you was at work and at the time I didn’t see the harm in letting them in to my apartment b-but now I see I did the wro-“

“No no no, I-thank you.” You cut him off, feeling slightly ashamed for overreacting.

“It’s okay, they’re great kids.”

“Thank you, I best get them back so I can feed them. I’m sorry if they caused any problems for you” you smiled, finally stand whilst picking Jasper up and placing him on your hip.

“They didn’t cause any problems, don’t worry. Bye Mr Jasper bye Miss Cora”

“Bye bye Mr Bucky and Miss Alpine” Cora waves already leaving.

Jasper just waves, his thumb sliding into his mouth.

“Bye Bucky”

“Bye, oh um Y/n… I would wash the bedding, the bedroom closest to this wall if I was you” He says grimacing as he knocks on the wall to his left.

Your bedroom.

“Great. Just great, thanks for the tip”. Giving him a tight lip smile you give him an awkward wave and walk back into your home.

“I-I’m sorry Y/n please just give me another chance” Poppy begs.

“Absolutely not. Now I want you to leave”

“But I need this job Y/n please”

“You told my children, the same children I pay you to look after, to go and play in the hallway so you could have sex in my bed! Oh don’t look so shocked, I found the used condom on my floor - thanks for that. Now don’t come back”

“Wi-will you give me a referen-“ You slammed the door in her face.

The audacity of this girl.

“Mama kitty” Jasper catches your attention and sure enough there’s Alpine walking around in a circle around your two year old.

“How did she get in here?” All you got in response was Jasper sticking his tongue out out you. “Let’s get her back home yeah?”

Now here came the tricky part, did you pick her up? Or just open the door and pray to a higher power that she didn’t run off?

You really hoped that she wouldn’t run off as the thought of chasing after a cat exhausted you but picking up the cat wasn’t your fan favourite either, from thirteen years old you’ve had a fear of touching cats after the neighbours tabby dug his claws into your skin and clung on for dear life.

“Okay bubba I need you not to move, I’ll be right back okay” great parenting leaving a two year old home alone, you scold yourself. Running out of the door and rapidly knocking on Bucky’s.

“Hey, Y/n are you okay?”

“Alpines in my apartment and I’m scared to touch cats so… come get her”

“Shit. I’m sorry I don’t know how I missed her getting out-wait did you just say you’re scared to touch them?”

Rolling your eyes as he chuckles “don’t laugh it’s a real phobia”

That has him practically crying. “So you’re afraid of cats?”

“No, I just don’t like touching them unless they’re asleep-stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry doll- hi Mr Jasper, come on missy you’re scaring our neighbour” he laughs as he bends down to pick up the cotton ball of fluff.

“I’m not scared of her!”

“Whatever you say doll, whatever you say”

“It’s-“

“A real phobia I know” winking at you “where’s Miss Cora?”

“At her friends for a sleepover so it’s just me and little man tonight” even though your daughter is two blocks away, you couldn’t help but miss her and mainly worry despite knowing she’s safe.

“That sounds like fun, I’ll see you”

And just as he’s about to cross over the threshold Jasper interrupts him. “Kitty stay”

“No baby kitty has to go home now”

“No kitty stay mama”

“Not tonight baby”

Here comes the waterworks in 3…2…1…

Jasper burst into a fit of tears, throwing himself backwards kicking his little arms and legs out.

“Kitty stay” he stutters, it breaks your heart hearing him cry like that.

“Ma-maybe if it’s okay with you Alpine can stay for a bit? I don’t mind honestly and she’s great with kids” Bucky offers and at his words Jaspers tears start to cease.

“Yeah umm yeah that’s okay with me” you say smiling lightly at Bucky.

“Behave missy” he tells the cat who’s trying to jump out of his arms, and once she’s free she runs over to Jasper rubbing herself all over him that he starts giggle at her fur tickling him.

“Once he’s asleep just knock on the wall and I’ll come and get her-“

“Stay” you blurt out instantly feeling the heat warm your cheeks “th-that’s if you don’t have anything better to-“

“I would love to” he smiles.

And so Bucky and Alpine join you and Jasper for dinner and some cartoons.

You was sitting next to Bucky on the couch when he taps your shoulder and nods his head in the direction of Jasper and Alpine, you couldn’t help but take your phone out and taking a picture of the two cuddled up together, fast asleep.

Months had passed before you had even realised. Bucky and Alpine spent most of their days now at your apartment, which you couldn’t complain as you now had another adult to talk to.

You had just left to go and get something from the store leaving Bucky alone with the kids. Jasper was playing with his toys with Alpine whilst Bucky and Cora was sat on the couch together.

Everything was good until.

“Momma doesn’t have a boyfriend” Cora told Bucky causing him to choke on his drink.

“Oh…”

“Do you want to be momma’s boyfriend?”

“I erm I’m not sure why?”

“Momma will make you happy, she makes me and Jaspy happy and she makes us dino nuggies for dinner and she reads us bedtime stories and makes sure there’s no monsters under the bed”

“Really?”

“Yep she would do that for you too if you was her boyfriend” the six year old put her hand on Bucky’s left arm as she told him.

“I’m not sure Cora…”

“Why not? Do you not like my momma?”

“I do sweetheart but it’s just a little bit more complicated than that”

“Momma said she likes you, I asked her. You can make her happy and she’ll make you happy. I don’t want momma to cry anymore”

“What do you mean?”

“She cries at night when she’s in bed but she doesn’t know that I know. If you be her boyfriend she won’t cry anymore”

Bucky knows Y/n cries at night, due to his enhanced hearing he can hear her. It pains him to hear her sobs until she’s eventually cried herself to sleep.

The knowledge that Cora knows it happens too makes his heart hurt. She’s six years old and all she wants is her momma to be happy even going as far to ask him - the ex brainwashed assassin who’s over a hundred years old - for help.

And the way she’s looking at him doesn’t help.

“So… will you think about it?” Cora asks when she doesn’t receive a response.

“Yeah I’ll think about it”

Five minutes go by.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Not yet”

“Okay”

Another five minutes go by.

“Now?”

“Still thinking Cora”

Jumping up from the couch when he hears the door come open he jogs over to help you with the shopping.

“Hey, thanks you’re a lifesaver” sighing in relief as the bags are released from your arms.

“No problem”

“Did they behave?”

“Yeah, well apart from Miss Cora” he winks at Cora as she comes over.

“No momma it was Mr Bucky that was naughty”

“Why what did he do?”

“He ate all the cookies and didn’t let me have one” she pouts.

You had to stifle the laugh from coming out as Bucky’s eyes widen and jaw dropped open, gasping dramatically at the claims.

“Y/n it was the other way round! I swear”

“No it wasn’t momma I have witnesses” holding her one finger up to you she runs back into the living room to get the witnesses. Bucky stands there with his arms crossed and lightly tapping his foot.

“They saw it happen” laying her dolls down on the counter she looks at you then at Bucky with a smug smile.

“Y/n whatever they say it’s a lie!”

That time you couldn’t hold the laughter in any more.

“You two…” shaking your head.

Seeing a grown man arguing with a six year old and her toys about them being liars makes you laugh even more.

Later that evening Cora says goodnight to Bucky and Alpine, you hear her ask him “have you thought about it now?” Causing your eyebrows to furrow.

Walking him to the door you ask “what was Cory talking about before she went to bed?”

“Oh nothing doll, see you tomorrow”.

You was in the kitchen cooking dinner when the knock at the door had Cora running straight towards it.

“Hi Mr Bucky hi Alpine”

“Hello Miss Cora”

“I’m a princess today”

“I see, hi Princess Cora” he chuckled.

“Hello, would you like to come into my castle?”

“Yes please, thank you”

Their footsteps got closer towards you, turning round you saw Alpine run past jumping straight on to the couch where Jasper was sitting.

“Momma Mr Bucky’s here” she told you before going back to the living room.

“Hi Bucky”

“Hey, so Cora’s a princess today then?”

“Yep. That’s her fourth dress change since she came home from school”

Chuckling as he sits down on the stool he watches you move around the small kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh no I’m fine, how was work?” You asked.

“It was fine just the usual, Sam being a pain in my backside”

“Fair enough” you laughed “hey um Bucky I need to ask a huge favour, you can say no okay so don’t fee-“

“Doll ask me”

“Remember you can say no, okay? But I have to work tomorrow as someone’s off ill and it’s Saturday so I was wondering if it’s no issue for you to look after the kids for me?”

He doesn’t even think about his answer as he answers “of course, just tell me when I should come over”

“Really? Oh Bucky you’re a lifesaver, I’ll have to pay you next week if that’s okay?”

“No absolutely not Y/n, I’m not going to take money off you”

“But I can’t ask you to look after them for free”

“Your not, I’m not taking money off you doll and that’s final”

He gets up off the stool and moves into the living room, you hear him tell the kids that they’ll be spending the day with him and the kids cheering.

Ever since you sacked Poppy you’ve been struggling, luckily your boss has been understanding that you need to work certain hours however the hours you now work is way less then what you use to, tomorrow will be the day you work longer that five hours.

Ms Hopewell from next door normally looks after Jasper but since it was the weekend she didn’t need to, plus her daughter was taking her out for the day-

“Shit-fuck goddamnit!” So lost in your thoughts you didn’t realise how close the knife was to your finger that was until you felt the sharp pain and warm sensation of blood trickling down your hand.

“Shi-shoot Y/n are you okay?” Bucky comes running over stopping when he see the blood.

“I’m fine-is it suppose to hurt this much? It really hurts”

“Doll we need to get you to the hospital”

“No, no it’s fine I’ll put a plaster on it-can you hand me the first aid kit from the cabinet”

“Y/n you need stitches-“ He attempts

“I can’t. I don’t have insurance anymore” you mutter.

“What?”

“The kids have but I had to give mine up so I could have insurance for Jasper. I can’t afford to pay the hospital bill Bucky”

You’ve never been ashamed of the fact that you couldn’t afford treatment for yourself it was just one of those things, your kids or you - it was an easy choice. There’s only ever been one time that you slightly regretted that decision and that’s when you broke your ankle just before you moved into the apartment, it had healed fully after nearly a year of being broken and the only time it affects you is in the winter or when you stood up to fast.

You knew he was right about needing to get stitches as you was pretty sure you could see the bone - you couldn’t - but you couldn’t help the shame that crept into your veins admitting it to Bucky that you couldn’t afford to pay for said stitches. The thought of getting another letter with big bold red letters telling you that you was in debt made your heart pang with fear.

Despite the pain in your finger and the cramp that was starting to seep into your hand you was still not going to go to the hospital.

“I’ll pay for it doll. Come on let’s get it sor-“

“No absolutely not. I’m not your charity case Bucky, just pass the first aid kit over and I’ll put a plaster on” You snapped. Instantly regretting it when you see Bucky’s eyes go sad.

“I’m not saying you are Y/n but a plaster isn’t going to do anything doll, I honestly don’t mind paying please just… just let me help you out”

“I can’t Bucky okay, I just can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Okay. Okay how about I take you to my work place we have a doct-“

“What part of I can’t afford it don’t you understand?”

“She’ll do it for free! If you could stop interrupting me for one second. Dr Cho will do it and she won’t charge I promise.”

Nibbling on your lip as blood splashed down the counter you started to shake your head.

“I can ring her now and ask her to come here if you want?”

“I-will she?”

“Of course give me a minute” he steps away to ring the doctor. “She’s on her way” he comes closer and helps you wrap your hand in the tea towel.

“Bucky, I’m really sorry for snapping I-“

“Y/n it’s fine okay. Cho’s on her way she’s nice and she’ll fix your finger”

“Momma what happened?” Cora goes pale at the sight of blood.

“Momma had a bit of an accident Princess Cora, can you go back to Mr Jasper and Alpine for me?” Bucky says before you had the chance.

“Okay but is momma okay?”

“Yes sweetheart she is, don’t worry”

Cora looks at you waiting for confirmation and when she gets a smile and a nod she runs back to her brother and Alpine.

“Thank you Buck-shit it’s really stinging”

“I know, she should be her-“ the knock at the door cuts him off, just before he walks off he kisses you on your forehead.

Hearing him talk to the doctor your fingers lightly grazed the part where he had kissed, a small shy smile made its way on your lips.

“Cho this is Y/n, Y/n this is Cho”

“Hi it’s a pleasure to meet you, James said that you’ve injured your finger?”

“Hi, and yeah I-I wasn’t looking at what I was doing and sliced myself” awkwardly lifting your hand up that now had dry blood on your arm.

“Hi Miss who are you?” Cora comes over with her hand on her hip.

“Hello I’m Helen”

“Hello Helen I’m Princess Cora, that’s momma, Mr Bucky and over there is Jasper and Alpine”

Helen curtsy’s at Cora making the six year old giggle “It’s nice to meet your family Princess Cora”

The implication that Bucky was apart of your family didn’t slip your notice and by the look of Bucky’s face it didn’t him either, neither one of you said anything to correct her though.

Cora walks off once again and Helen turns her attention back to you, unwrapping the towel she turned to Bucky telling him what she needed out of her medical bag.

With him distracted you looked at Helen “I-I can’t pay you so it’s okay just to put a plaster on it, it’ll be fine in a few days”

“Don’t be silly I’m not charging you” she says softly. “Thank you James, Y/n this might hurt but I’ll try and be as gentle as I can”

It was weird because it hurt until Bucky held your other hand. Strange.

“All done, if it’s easier for you I’ll come back here in a few weeks to remove the stitches”

You thank her once again as Bucky walks her to the door. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah I’m okay. Bucky I really am so-“

His lips cut you off. Said lips being attached to yours.

“Stop apologising, it’s my turn now - Y/n I’m really sorry for that” he says once he’s pulled away.

“Did you not like it? Was it bad?” You panic, it was your first kiss in over two years to you it was magical but not to him as he apologising.

“God no doll, to both questions. It’s just I should have asked first-why are you smiling like that?”

“C-can I have another one?”

Bucky chuckles just as his lips gently touch yours again.

A week after nearly chopping your finger off and having not one, not two but three kisses with Bucky, he knocked on the door and let himself in like you told him to do.

“Hi Buck”

“Hey doll, where’s my two favourite people in the world at?” Pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Jaspers down for a nap and Cora’s in her room, Buck she’s upset”

“Why? Who’s hurt her?”

“One of the girls in her class is having a sleepover and invited all the other girls in the class, apart from Cory”

Your heart breaking again remembering how sad she looked coming out of school, normally she was all smiles and talking a thousand miles per hour, filling you in on what she had done that day but not today. It wasn’t until you got home where she finally broke down in tears.

“When?”

“Tonight, apparently all the other girls knew and was told not to tell Cora”

“Is her friend going?”

“Abbie? No she’s in a different class so she’s hasn’t been invited either”

“Give me 20 minutes and I’ll be back”

“Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise doll” he winks before kissing you and leaving.

And sure enough twenty minutes later he was walking back through the door. This time he had two bags in his hands.

“Bucky?”

“Me, you and the kids are having our own sleep over and it’s going to be way better than that snobby-“

“She’s six Bucky”

“And? She didn’t invite the best girl to her sleep over so there for… she’s snobby”

Shaking your head you couldn’t help but smile as he pulled different snacks and drinks out of the bag onto the coffee table.

“So I’m thinking that we’ll make a pillow fort, watch movies and eat snacks and I’ll order us a pizza from Cora’s favourite place?”

Every fibre in your being was screaming at you just say those three words but you couldn’t, not yet at least. You and Bucky wasn’t even dating all you did was share a few kisses, it’ll be weird to blurt out them words.

“Mr Bucky you’re here” Cora says coming out of her bedroom.

“I’m here sweetheart, did your momma not tell you what was happening tonight?”

“No, what’s happening?”

“Us four are having a sleepover”

“Really?” She squeals and runs into Bucky who lifts her up. “Thank you thank you! This is the best day ever!”

You hear Jasper call out for you from his room so you leave Bucky and Cora alone. Picking Jasper up from his bed and walk in to the living room where the two year old says something that stops not only you in your tracks but Bucky and Cora.

“Dada”

His little arms reaching out to the only man in the room. Bucky’s eyes bounce from you then to Jasper, then to you. You can see it in his eyes that he’s begging you to tell him what to do but you can’t, you’re completely frozen.

“Bucky” he says slowly as to make Jasper understand but all he receives is-

“Dada” Jasper giggles and repeats the word a few more times.

Bucky finally puts Cora down and slowly makes his way over to you two and when he’s just in reach Jaspers jumped out of your arms and into Bucky’s. As soon as Bucky has hold of him you walk out of the room going straight to your bedroom. Shutting the door you burst out crying.

“Doll? I’m coming in okay?” It had been close to ten minutes since you had walked out. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry”

“Why are you sorry for?” Wiping your tears he pulls you into his chest.

“I tried correcting him but he just wouldn’t stop, even Cora told him not to”

“Did she say anything to you? About their father I mean.”

“No she just looked really upset.”

“He erm, he-“

“Y/n you don’t have to tell me, it’s okay”

“No no I want to, I trust you. He left, well he kicked me and Cora out when I was four months pregnant. Everything was fine that morning when we woke up, he went to work I stayed at home and when I was putting his dinner out he came home with an envelope in his hands and threw it on the table, he walked into Cora’s bedroom walked out with a huge bag a few minutes later then did the same with our room” wiping the fresh tears that had fallen, you hadn’t spoken about that day to anyone - not even your family.

“He told me to open the letter so I did an-and inside was paper, right. When I read it, it said that he had given up his rights to Cora and the unborn baby. I asked him why he was doing this and he told me I ruined his life when Cora was born and I was doing it again with the new baby, said he wanted to live his life without being tied down. Kicked me and a crying three year old out, at first I thought he had been cheating on me but it turns out he wasn’t, there was no one on the side he just wanted to live his life”

Bucky was practically shaking, you could feel the anger coming from him.

“I found out a few months later that all of our friends knew what he was doing, promised him that they would keep his secret and that he started the process when I was a few weeks along. Everyday he told me and Cory he loved us, spoke to the bump saying he couldn’t wait to meet them all while he and everyone around us knew what he was doing.”

“Y/n… doll I’m so sorry”

“Why it’s not your fault, you know Cory never even mentioned him after it happened not once, I thought she would of because she was such a daddy’s girl three nearly four years old and she knew, she knew he didn’t want her anymore so she never asked when she was going to see him or called out for him during the night. If he had just told me he didn’t want me anymore that I would have been okay with bu-but to not want anything to do with his kids? It didn’t make sense to me”

“Has he even been in contact with you since?”

“No. I got a phone call once from his friend who told me that he was really struggling to sell the house and somehow it was my fault”

“How was it your fault?”

“God knows, he started rambling off then started calling me names when he heard Ms Hopewell’s son talking in the background, said I had moved on pretty quick when I hadn’t. He was there helping me fix up my bed after his mum found out I was sleeping on the floor”

“Doll-“

“Don’t apologise again please Bucky, I got through it I’m fine now. I think hearing Jasper call you dada made unwanted emotions come up you know? You’ve obviously realised that he doesn’t speak much even at two there’s only a few words he can say, I don’t know where I went wrong with that but I’ve tried, I’ve tried teaching him other words but he just don’t.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Y/n you are an incredible mum, those two kids out there are the most sweetest loving people. Jasper will start talking soon, I just know it”

You tried, you really did.

“I love you”

Oh the silence was killing you.

“I love you too” he smiled softly.

He leant in for a kiss when-

“Is Bucky our new daddy?”

“Not yet sweetheart” not yet played in your mind over and over even as he stands up winking at you and taking Coras hand in his and walks back to the living room.

That night after all the excitement needed to come to an end all four of you climbed into your bed. Cora tucked snuggly in your arms, Jasper in Bucky’s, Bucky’s left arm over your waist pulling all three of you closer to him. Alpine slept curled up in a ball at the bottom.

For the first time in just over two years you went to sleep dried faced and peacefully.

And unbeknownst to you, it was the first time in a very very long time that Bucky only had happy dreams as he slept.

It had been a month since the sleepover and confession, within that month Bucky had practically moved in. Alpine spent all her time with Cora and Jasper, sleeping with Jasper at night.

Bucky had to go on a work trip, he’d been gone for just over two weeks now and to be truthful you was missing him even if you did speak to him everyday, him ringing every night to say goodnight to the kids and speaking to you for a few minutes before he had to leave.

It was Wednesday afternoon and you couldn’t stop worrying when Bucky hadn’t called you the night before or that day. As you was cleaning the apartment the knock at the door made you jump. Cora went to jump up and answer it but since you knew it wasn’t Bucky you told her to stop receiving a frown in response.

Answering the door you froze.

“Hi, are you Y/n?” Nodding your head at the man he smiled. “Hi I’m-“

“Momma it’s Captain America!” Cora squealed from behind you.

Turning his attention from you to Cora he smiled softly “hello you must be Miss Cora, Bucky’s told me all about you”

“You know Mr Bucky? Momma he knows Bucky”

“I-I know sweetie” your eyes still trained on the blonde “would you like to come in?”

“Thank you”

Pulling Cora closer to you, you watched as Steve walked into your home. You couldn’t put your finger on it but for some reason you didn’t like the feeling you had in your stomach. Steve walked into the living room where Jasper and Alpine was.

“Cora take Jasper and Alpine into your room please”

“Why momma?”

“Just do as I say”

Cora listened and picked up her younger brother who had Alpine in his arms and walked into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her you let out a deep breath.

“Hi, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, is Bucky alright?”

“Yeah he’s fine, he asked me to come over and pick you guys up. It’s better if he explains”

“Where is he?”

“He’s at the tower, I need you to pack some clothes and come with me”

“For how long?”

“Enough for a few days”

“What’s Bucky’s favourite book?”

“Huh?”

“What’s his favourite book?” You asked again with your arms crossed.

“The Hobbit, why?”

“Okay, I’ll be right back”

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Just to see if it was really you” Steve’s laugh made you smile as you walked into Cora’s room.

Once packed Steve stood there holding the bags in one hand and in the other Cora’s hand as they both stood watching with amused smiles as you struggled to get Alpine into the cat carrier that Bucky had brought over a few weeks earlier when you both took her to the vets.

After almost ten minutes of struggling all it took was Jasper to pick her up and place her inside.

Never in your life have you been more thankful for your two year old.

“Bucky gave me his car keys” giving Steve a questionable look, he smiled “he said that he brought car seats for the kids and since we don’t have any laying around the tower it would be better if I took his car”

You didn’t know that he had brought car seats…

“O-oh”

You watched in awe as Steve strapped Cora into her seat that was princess themed easily, when he caught you staring at him “Bucky and I practiced with Morgan, Pepper her mum helped us figure it out. Got to say we’re naturals now” he laughed.

“I honestly didn’t know he was doing this”

“He really likes you and these kids, don’t tell him I told you this but he’s been reading books about kid’s development and stuff.”

“No he hasn’t…” you say as you put your seatbelt on.

“He has. That’s how I found out about you guys”

“I-I’m-wow. I didn’t know”

Steve chuckles at your shocked expression, “like I said he really likes you”

The rest of the drive was quiet between you and Steve, Cora asking the blonde a million of questions about everything and anything and him answering all of them with as much enthusiasm as she gave.

You didn’t have very much time to stare in fascination at the huge tower as Steve pulled into the underground garage, the squeals from both Cora and Jasper had your attention going to where they were shouting, Bucky stood there with his hands deep in his pockets and a large smile on his face as the car pulled up to a stop, going straight to the back door where Jasper was sat.

“Hey little man”

“Dada!”

“I’m here buddy, come on let’s get you out of this seat, yeah”.

Steve had already gotten out and making his way to help Cora out of her seat.

“Bucky it’s Captain America and he’s my friend” she said making both men smile.

“Is he now? Am I still your friend?”

“Of course Bucky! Your my best friend”

You had removed yourself from the car and made your way to get the bags out of the boot when Steve’s voice stopped you.

“I’ll get them don’t worry”

“You’ve done enough-“

“No honestly it’s fine”

"Come on doll, he'll be fine plus everyone's dying to meet you” Bucky says as he places Jasper further onto his hip.

"Are you sure Steve?"

"I'm sure, don't worry"

Reluctantly leaving Steve to grab the bags you take Bucky's free hand and hold onto Cora's, all four of you make your way into the large building.

"Doll, after I introduce you to the team you and I need to talk” Bucky whispered in your ear making you nervous slightly. 

“Ah here’s the Manchurian Candidate’s little family, welcome I’m-“

“Iron man!” Cora cut him off.

“You know who I am then?”

“Yes! You fly in the air and it’s so cool!” She says excitedly.

“I fly too” Sam Wilson laughs - Cora’s eyes go wide at seeing him.

“T-the Falcon! Momma look it’s the Falcon a-and Black Widow an-and Scarlet Witch! A-a-and momma it’s Thor!” She spoke so fast she started to stutter, her entire body shaking with excitement making everyone chuckle.

You all heard hurried footsteps and a voice speaking with a hint of panic come closer. “Are they here? I’m sorry I’m late”

The loud gasp had everyone’s eyes snapping down to Cora - including yours and Bucky’s. “I-it’s Bruce! M-momma he-it-Bruce-Hulk” she lets go of your hand and runs up to a very confused looking Bruce “I’m-your-your hulk! You’re my favourite! I have so so so so so many toys of you don’t I momma? I do Bruce!” Once again everyone chuckles at her, not that she pays any attention to them, too busy looking up at the man who she’s pretended to be when she’s playing.

“Hi, you must be Cora?” Bruce says with a soft hue coating his cheeks.

Her eyes widen comically, turning to you slowly her chest rising and falling fast. “B-Bruce knows my name mo-momma”

“I know beautiful, just breathe okay”

“Can I hug you please?” She asks politely and nearly squeals when he nods and crouches down to her level. “This is the best day ever!” She declares whilst keeping her arms around Bruce’s neck.

Whilst the team was distracting the kids Bucky took your hand and led you both to his room. “I need to tell you something, and maybe ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“When I was in Wakanda Shuri promised me that if I ever wanted to go back I was welcome, and that I could live there, work there, have a life there and… and doll I want to retire, I’m done with this life, I’ve been doing it for so long.”

“Do it.” You said after a few minutes of silence, the hopeful look in his eyes hurt your heart, and even though it meant that what ever you two were was now at an end and you would have to explain to the kids that they wouldn’t see him or Alpine again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask him not to go.

“What?”

“Retire, move to Wakanda and have an amazing life there.” You smiled softly at him. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, you deserve to be free Bucky.”

“B-But that’s the thing Y/n, I have you and the kids and I don’t want to leave you three behind.”

“You can always visit or we could visit you?”

Moving closer to you, taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No doll, I don’t think you understand. I’m in love with you and I love your kids like they’re my own and I’m happier than I have ever been since meeting you three, I want to ask if you will move with me? If-if not I can stay here with you, I don’t want to lose my family”

For the past year Bucky lived happily in Wakanda, true to her word Shuri welcomed him with open arms and even showed him a farm house that she got built just for him - right where his hut use to be. He had his own farm, his own sanctuary and he loved every single part of it.

Bucky would admit that he had missed New York, especially Steve and the little life he had for himself there but he knew he made the right decision by walking away from it all.

As he was walking towards his home some of the local children were playing with a football, all stopping their game to run over to him, all wanting a hug from the White Wolf as they still called him.

“Daddy!”

“Ah, there’s my little girl! How are you princess?”

“I’m okay, are we going home?”

“You can stay out and play for a little bit? I don’t think momma will be mad.”

“No, I want to go home now.” Watching as she waves goodbye to her friends, she lifts her arms out for him to pick her up.

“You are so heavy now.”

“No I’m not!” She giggles.

Walking through the gate and down the pathway Bucky opens the door, helping his little girl take her shoes off as well as his own, Alpine trots over to them giving them a welcome home meow.

“Momma we’re home!”

They both stand there hearing footsteps come closer to them. “Did you have fun Cory?”

“I did momma, where’s Jaspy?”

“He’s in the living room baby. Hey handsome.”

“Hi beautiful.”

When Bucky asked if you would move to Wakanda with him, you was skeptical, it’s not that you didn’t want to go but you had two children to think about. You asked Cora about it and she seemed happy about moving to a new place, Tony let Bucky take a jet for the four of you to fly out to see how the kids took to the place.

Cora’s jaw dropped wide open when she met Shuri. “A-A real princess!” She stuttered, you thought she was going to collapse the second Shuri opened her arms for the six year old to hug her. Cora instantly made friends with some of the children she met, and when she met the farm animals it was that moment she was sold on moving there.

Jasper seemed happy too, he was fascinated by the goats and wanted to touch each and every one of them. Bucky told you that Alpine now had competition.

After a few days in the beautiful land you came back to New York, the next day you sat the kids down and asked them if they wanted to stay - both shaking their heads- or go to Wakanda - both of them screaming ‘yes’. A week later both yours and Bucky’s apartments were empty and ready for new people to call the places home.

“How are my babies doing?”

“Jasper and Alpine decided to wreck the play room.” You both chuckled. “And this little one has been very active today.” Bucky’s hands went straight to your growing bump, his eyes lighting up at feeling his third child move around in the love of his life’s stomach.

Five months ago you found out you were pregnant, and whilst you was happy you couldn’t help but feel nervous about Bucky’s behaviour changing towards Cora and Jasper, when you told him he burst out crying and kept saying that he was going to be a dad again, he kissed you and your stomach. It wasn’t just you that was scared but Cora was as well, Bucky promised that he would love all his children equally, later that night he promised you that nothing would change and that he is still Cora and Jaspers dad regardless.

“I love you and I love our perfect family.”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[mooooonnnzz]

World/Insured Part 3

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ hope you guys r liking it so far!! :p

☆ 4,4k words

✶ “Can we talk about [Name]?” Ford suddenly brings up one day. The waves of tourists have been moderately slow for the day, allowing Stan and Ford to kick back and relax for once. And in the midst of sitting down on the couch, his mind dwelled over to the thought of you. Stan let out a long sigh as he sat down, pitt cola in hand. Stan was trying to break free from his alcohol addiction, Ford noted. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” The causality held in Stan’s words made Ford uneasy. He was so unnaturally calm with his words, at least the last time he brought you up, he can sense the agitation in his words, but he couldn’t find any dripping anger from him now. Mustering up all the courage he had left, he asked; “How were they?” He felt his mouth run dry. Out of everything he could’ve asked, he asked that? All the questions he had were out the window and off into the woods, leaving him scrambling for words. Taking a sip from his soda, he said, “Do you want to know how they felt immediately after they left with me?” Ford nods. “Well, being fifteen and a rage of hormones, they pretty much hated you.” Stan’s eyes glance over to Ford whose face could visibly read hurt. “I’m just kidding!” Stan cackled, shoving Ford. “They were ripped apart. I remember they told me how they felt everything and nothing at the same time, real poetic than one.” He takes another sip. “They missed you so much while I hated your guts. I couldn’t think of you without seeing red and they couldn’t think of you without crying.” He swirled the drink in the can, looking down to his shuffling feet. “What did you guys do to survive?” 

✶ “I enrolled them into a high school. I didn’t want them to be stupid like me, ya know? And while they were in highschool, I started my business which earned us money to get by.” Stan told him. “Would you even call what you did a business?” Ford said with his eyebrow raised. “Hey!” Stan rolled his eyes, placing the can of soda down on the floor. “Once we got banned from a few states, [Name] put their foot down and encouraged me to get a job. And guess what, I landed a pretty good job! My history of stealing peoples money was long gone, until now,” Stan quietly said the last part. “And we were living pretty comfortably. I got us a nice house, a good car and [Name] graduated highschool and they got a job as manager of some sort, can’t really remember.” Stan scratched his chin idly. “They were on their way to move out and take their business elsewhere when you decided to show your face.” Stan cleared his throat, looking at Ford. “They talked about you a lot.” He softly added. “I saw how they lit up when they saw me for the first time. They looked so much older.” Ford said. “I mean, yeah, that’s what happens when you miss, like, 10 years of their life.” Ford ignored Stan’s comments and mulled over his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up. “Thank you for talking about them, Stan.” Stan shot him a smile. “Of course, talking about them wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Since then, Stan would share stories of you whenever Ford asked, ranging from embarrassing ones, to one’s where it was a little harder for Stan to tell. But in the end, it brought them closer together and kept the memory of you alive. 

✶ Much to Ford’s dismay, the whole shack was rearranged to be a tourist trap. By day, they were busy ripping people of their money and by night, they buried themselves in their work, fixing what they could while simultaneously searching for the second book. And before they knew it, they were in their late 50’s. Adjusting his fez, he smiles at himself through the mirror. “Stan!” Ford bursts through his room, starling Stan. “Geez, Ford! A little warning next time?” Ford stammers over to him. “No time for that!” He huffs out. “The book! I-I can’t find it!” Stan’s face falls. “What?! What happened to it?” Ford opened his mouth to answer when Soos yelled out; “Mr. Pines!” Stan curses to himself, that must be the kids. “Do you have any idea where it could be?” Stan asks. Out of all the days something could’ve gone wrong, why today? “I think maybe the gnomes took it?” Stan was ready to scream again when Soos called for them again. “I want you to go and look for the book.” Stan insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not coming with you to get Dipper and Mabel?” Ford gasped out, his hand slapping on his chest. “No! Because you lost the book!” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I lost the book? It was probably a gnome who took it!” Ford defended. “How are you so sure that a gnome even took it?” Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. “They may or may not have knocked me out just a few moments ago.” Stan was so ready to deck him in the face when Soos came into the room. “Mr. Pines!” He pointed outside. “The kids are here!” “We know that, Soos.” The twins spat out. “But there’s this wolf mailman dude, and I really don’t trust him and he’s probably like eating the kids right now at the bus stop!” Soos rambled out. While Stan carried an unimpressed face, Ford’s face twisted to one of horror. “We need to pick them up now!” Unfortunately for Stan, both Soos and Ford have a rising suspicion that the mailman is a wolf in a human disguise. But the man was just hairy! Ford pulled Stan along and got inside his car. Starting up the car, Stan let out an exhausted sigh. “How did puny little gnomes knock you out?” He asked, backing out of his parking spot and onto the road. “I was busy reading when they knocked me out cold! I don’t think they intended to steal the journal, when I was waking back up they realized and grabbed the nearest object possible and ran out of there.” Stan sighed, tapping his finger on the wheel. “I really can’t believe you sometimes.” He mutters. “It wasn’t my fault, Stanley!” 

✶ Coming to a complete stop, Ford rolled down the windows, a large smile on his face when his eyes landed on his favorite great nieces. “Grunkle Ford!” They cheer, equally large smiles on their faces. “Hey, hey!” Stan watched as they stumbled into the car with their bulky backpacks skidding against the roof. “Where’s my love?” Stan exclaimed. “Right here, Grunkle Stan.” Mable giggled, wrapping her arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “That’s more like it,” Stan grinned, gingerly patting her back. “Now where’s the sweaty one? I’m missing one!” Dipper sighed, a playful roll to his eyes. “I’m right here,” Mable pulled away from Stan and swiftly latched herself to Ford. “C’mon, give your old grunkle some sugar.” Dipper cringed. “Don’t ever say that again, Grunke Stan.” He said, hugging Stan. “I say what I want, kid! We live in a free country for a reason.” The drive home was full of conversation, the twins telling their grunkle’s stories from school and their home life. Stan and Ford made the conscious effort to comment and react to everything they said, if not Mable would make sure they did by repeating what they said over and over again. When the Mystery Shack came into view, they both shoved their face against the window, marveling at the shack. “Is this what Grunkle Stan is always talking about when we call him?” Mable’s hot breath fogged up the window. “Yup. And now you guys get to see it.” Ford gestured to the shack, smiling proudly. He had soon come to love the shack he and Stan worked on, he will never admit that out loud though. Parking in his usual spot, he turns to the kids. “Get yourself settled in, alright?” They wasted no time jumping out of the car and scampering off into the shack. “And don’t touch anything!” A jar crashing onto the floor was heard in the distance. “They don’t listen, do they?” Stan shook his head. “Alright, poindexter, what are we going to do about the book?” He started, looking at Ford who pulled at his turtle neck anxiously. “We have to wait till tonight to look for it.” Tonight came and they were too wrapped up with the twins that they couldn’t go out and search for the third book. Their schedules became so busy that a week had passed and they still were waiting to find an empty slot in their schedules to find the book but it never came.

✶ “Grunkles! Grunkles!” Mable came running at them at full speed. “Woah there, kiddo!” Ford swooped Mable up from the floor. “You almost bumped into me.” He laughed, putting her back down on the ground. “That was the plan.” She giggled. “But I have something to ask!” She shoved her hand inside the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a photo, a very specific photo that Stan had kept in his room. She pointed at the person in the middle. “Who is this?” She asks. “Mable!” Dipper rushed to the living room. Bending over, he hoisted himself up by propping his arms on his knees. He wheezed out, his eyes locking onto the tense scene in front of him. “Did she already ask about the photo?” Silence was his response. Breaking out of his trance, Stan swiped the photo out of Mable’s hands. “Where did you find this?” Stan’s eyes flickered between the photo and Mable. “In your room.” A flash of emotions went through Stan’s face. Why was Mable in his room? Why did she pick this photo out of all the things in his room? He spiraled. He wasn’t expecting to speak of you to someone who had no idea of your existence. Stan’s heart crumpled into a pathetic ball. The twins had never met you. Ford took notice of Stan’s unnaturally quiet nature.  “Kids, why don’t you go to your rooms?” Ford said, kneeling down to their height. “But why?” Mable whined, pouting. “Because we need to decide if we are ready to tell you, okay?” Ford gave a knowing look to Dipper who understood that this wasn’t an easy topic. Dipper told something to Mable and with a worried look, she dejectedly followed him up to their room. “Stan?” He looks over to Stan who was shakily pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “I thought you quit, Stanley?” Ford watched sadly as he walked inside the kitchen and searched for a lighter, when he did he pocketed it and walked back out. “It’s either I drink or I smoke.” Stan said, heading towards the porch. Ford followed after him, shutting the door behind him. “You want one?” Stan offered the pack and he debated for a moment before denying his request. Stan brought the cigar to his lips. He cupped his hand around the cigar as he lit it up with his lighter. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, he allowed himself to relax, welcoming the familiar feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. “We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Ford spoke, watching the puff of gray smog lighty cover his vision momentarily. “I don’t think we have a choice here.” Stan takes another long drag from the cigarette. “We can tell them we’re not ready yet.” Ford reasons. “I think it’s time they should know about [Name].” Stan stares at the late afternoon sky. “It was just all so sudden and I didn’t know how to react. It all went downhill from there.” Stan twiddled his cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Stanley. I know how you feel.” A comfortable silence blanketed the both of them warmly. “Do you ever wonder what [Name] would think about the twins?” Ford breaks the silence, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Stan wistfully smiled, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. “[Name] would have loved the twins.” 

✶ Stan looked between the twins. “So, whaddya wanna know?” He asks. “Who are they!” Mable shouted. “They are our younger sibling.” Ford said. Mable’s face exploded into shock. “We have a secret Great Aunt/Grunkle?” Mable couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Where are they?” Dipper questioned. “They’re somewhere,” Stan said with a strained voice. “Where is somewhere?” Mable cocked her head to the side. “They’re out exploring the world.” Ford horribly lied. Mable frowned. “You can tell us if they’re dead, Grunkles. You don’t have to hide it from us.” Stan took a harsh deep breath in. “They aren’t dead, pumpkin. We just have no idea where they’re at.” Mable nodded her head in understanding. “Did you guys fall out?” Dipper asked with a tiny frown. “Yeah. A terrible fight broke out and they left.” Ford gazed at the photo of the three of them when they were young, clueless of the world and just happy to be surrounded by one another. “I’m so sorry.” Mable’s excitement was no longer there and was replaced by sadness for her poor Grunkle’s. “It’s okay, dear. No need to apologize.” Ford assured Mable with a smile. “[Name] is a wonderful person,” This was the first time Stan had talked about you in a present tense and he couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. “I hope one day you get to meet them.”

✶ Unbeknownst to the two older twins, Dipper had found journal three when Stan instructed him to go out and put out signs in the woods. But they didn’t find out that Dipper had it until he had shown the book to Ford and Stan after the events that had followed them the past few days. “Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it!” Dipper said. Stan pretended to feign interest as he skimmed through the pages. “I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through,” He looks at Mable and smiles, directing attention to his Grunkle’s who were trying their hardest to hide their actual feelings. “Maybe you guys should finally know about it too.” He grinned. “I’m glad you showed us this, Dipper.” Stan shut the book closed. “Uhm, Grunkle Stan. Why does Grunkle Ford look like he’s about to crap himself?” Mable looked concerned for her Grunkle. Everyone turned their attention to Ford who weakly smiled at them. “Excuse him. He’s still shaken–” Ford yanked Stan by the sleeve and pulled him out of the twins room. “We need to go to the lab now!” Ford whispered. “I know that, Stanford! But at least let us pretend we don’t give a ratsass for this book!” He whispered back. “We’ll be back!” Ford awkwardly excused him and Stan. The twins heard their Grunkle speedily walk down the stairs. “Do you think I’m ever going to get that book back?” Mable shrugged. 

✶ Placing the books right next to each other, Ford flipped to the pages containing the blueprints. He connected the books together, showing the full plan of the portal. Stan read the instructions and swung over to the controls, he flipped the exact switches that were told to be switched. The lights around the portal flickered on. “Oh my god!” Ford laughed out in surprise. “Is this actually going to work?” Stan and Ford rush over to the portal. Their hearts thrumming against their chest. Together, they pulled the lever. With a click, it moved to the other side and the portal hummed. Zaps of electricity emitted from the portal as it powered back on. A rush of wind blew by Stan and Ford as the portal swirled to life. Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe we did it, huh?” Stan says with a smile. “I thought we were never going to get this portal turned on.” Stan claps his back. “Well, believe it!” 

✶ Ford was so sure they weren’t going to get caught. He was so absolutely sure. The plan he made to steal the nuclear waste was perfect, there was no room for error. But it seemed like the universe had other plans. He never imagined himself getting pinned to a cop car with cuffs around his wrists. This was more of a Stanley thing, and yet here he is, getting arrested. “This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Ford cried out, his cheek squished against the hood of the cop car. “Guys, can’t I give you some money?” Stan approached them with his hands in his pockets. They all watched him nervously, guns aimed and men ready to tackle him down. “Grunkle Stan, maybe you shouldn’t!” Mable grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him back. “You guys got the wrong guy, my brother is innocent!” Stan argues. “Oh, we’ve been watching your family all summer and we have seen some pretty disturbing things. Whoever you think your brother is, he is not what he seems.” They shove Ford into a car. “Guys!” Ford calls, the door slamming shut on him. Stan watches as they drive off with Ford, his head spinning. “As for you guys, we were removing you off the property.” The guy with a mustache said, directing them to another cop car that was beside them. “No, you can’t!” Stan felt helpless. He just wants you back, why is this so difficult? The chaos spiraled into madness and suddenly, Stan was in the lab, begging the kids to not turn off the portal. “This’ll end the world, Grunkle Stan. Why can’t you see that?” Dipper had his hands hovering dangerously close to the button. “Just listen to me, kid. It’ll make sense later, just don’t press the button.” He walked towards them but was soon taken off his feet. “Brace yourselves!” They all rise up, twirling and thrashing around the room. “T-Minus, thirty five seconds.” The robotic voice said. Dipper had grabbed onto a beam and told Mable to reach for the button. Using the cable wrapped on her foot, she inched herself close to the button. “Mable, wait, wait!” Stan pushed him off the wall and tried reaching towards her. Soos dove straight for Stan and wrapped himself around him, apologizing to him. “Soos, what’re you doing?!” Dipper followed what Soos did and yelled at Mable to turn it off. 

✶ “Stop!” Everyone looked around and they all gasped when their eyes landed on Ford. “Mabel, don’t listen to Dipper. Listen to me,” Ford pushed himself toward the nearest beam. He coiled his arm around it, securing himself. “Do you trust me and Stan, Mable?” Ford firmly asked, his eyes locked with Mabel. “I do!” She desperately said. “Then trust us when we tell you to not push the button.” Mabel looked to Dipper who was widely shaking his head. “Okay,” She raises her hands above her head. “I trust you guys.” She let herself float up, away from the button. “Mable, no–!” A white flash envelops them whole. 

✶ They all roughly made contact with the floor. With a groan, Stan rubbed his head, his head lifting up towards the portal. The portal flickered with wandering electricity. Ford held his breath, eyes fixed on the portal as he waited. A black figure barreled out of the portal, their head whipping towards it. “Close the portal!” You yelled, your hand wrapping around a gun that was hoisted in their waist. You turned their attention back to Stan and Ford. “Close the portal!” You repeated louder this time. In the distance, they all heard a loud distorted guttural grumble. Ford got up from his feet and rushed over to the control panel, flicking all the switches down. “Switch the lever off!” Switching the gun to your other hand, you aimed it at the portal and with your free hand, you pulled the lever. Before whatever monster was chasing you could catch up, the portal sputtered close. You held your chest, catching your breath. The rush of adrenaline you felt passed and you were immediately struck with pain. “Thank you.” You whisper, clutching your side. You think you can manage and to prove it, you take one wobbly step forward. You tried to take another but you collapsed to your knees,  blood splattering on the floor below you. “[Name]!” Stan yelled, he darted towards you. “Stanley?” You croaked out. You blinked in surprise. “Is that really you?” Your question falls on deaf ears as Stan yells for medical supplies. Ford comes rushing to your side, inspecting the upper half of your body. “Stanford’s here too?” You felt your body teeter from side to side. “Is Mom and Dad gonna pop up?” You joke, your body crashing onto Ford. “[Name], can….hear…?”  Stan’s voice fades in and out. “What did you say?” Your eyes squint at Stan. “Here, Grunkle…” You could hear a high pitched voice and you go to look for it but your vision has gone hazy. “They’re slipping…out of…” You really wished you understood what they were saying. And without even realizing, your eyes closed on you. 

✶ You feel a warmth tickle your face causing you to stir awake. “Oh my gosh, it worked!” A voice spoke. “Mable!” A prepubescent voice filled your ears. “What is with all this talking?” You sleepily grumbled out, peeling your eyes open to see two tween kids staring right at you with big wondrous eyes. “Hi, I’m Mable! I’m your great niece.” She introduced herself. “Great niece?” You groggily got up. “Where am I?” You ask, blinking as your vision comes back to you. “You’re in the Mystery Shack!” She tells you with a chipper attitude. “Mystery Shack?” You look down to see that your original outfit you wore was now discarded somewhere and instead wore a large baggy white tee and heart pajama pants. “What am I wearing?” You pinched at your clothes. “Kids!” A gruff voice was heard behind the doors. “Oh shoot!” Mable looked around the room. “Where do we hide?” Dipper whispered, his eyes darting under the bed. “Go under the bed!” Dipper said, diving straight under. “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan that we’re here!” She pleaded. “Uhm, yeah?” She beamed and hid right under the bed. In an instant, the door was pushed open and your eyes locked on your brothers. Your brain processed it for a moment, wait… “Stanley, Stanford?!” A gasp leaves Ford. “Why are you awake! You’re supposed to be resting.” Ford scolded. You didn’t pay attention to Ford’s scolding, wrapped up in the moment of seeing your twin brothers living and breathing right in front of you. “Are you guys real?” You try to blink away the tears that were obstructing your view. “Of course we are silly.” Stan laughed, sitting down on the bed right next to you and wrapping you in a side hug. “Stan…” You cried. You had spent countless nights, shouldering the knowledge that you weren’t going to see your brothers ever again. That haunted you every single day from the moment you woke up to the minute you went to sleep. Here you are, proven wrong for once in your life. And it feels so good to be held by Stan again, feels so good to have a familiar feeling wash into your senses again. “How?” You ask, peeling yourself away from Stan’s shoulder, wiping the tears away. “We just kept trying and trying.” Ford told you, a somber smile on his lips. “Oh, Ford. Come here!” You grab his wrist and tug him into the bed. The action caused you to drag and flop all of them on the bed with you. Tearful laughter erupts in the room. “I apologize for the scare earlier,” You say, your hand pressing against your side. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Stan said. “No, really.” You begin to unwrap the gauze around your waist, ignoring Ford and Stan’s protest. “I heal quickly.” You point to your already sealed up gash. The only thing left to prove that you were injured was the thin scar that spread across. Ford gawks in awe. “You need to tell me an in depth story detailing every single thing you have been doing for the past thirty years.” Ford said with so much seriousness you laughed. “Bu-but you passed out. Ford said it was from blood loss!” 

✶ “I only passed out because my body needs to shut down momentarily to heal up my wounds.” You tell him matter of factly. “Oh, great. Now we have another snobby nerd.” Stan joked. “Oh, stop it! You are too, considering you fixed the portal alongside with Mr. Branic over here.” You jabbed a thumb over to Ford who yelled out, “Hey!” in offense. “Hello family!” Mable popped out from under the bed. The three of you screamed loudly in fear, clutching each other. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you guys!” She helped Dipper out from under the bed. “I just wanted to say that you guys are so adorable!” She squealed, pouncing onto the bed. “I can’t believe I have a Great Aunt/Grunkle who has traveled throughout dimensions. Isn’t that so cool?” She kicked her feet in excitement. “What kinds of monsters did you see out there?” Dipper asked, climbing onto the bed and settling himself between you, Ford and Stan. “A lot.” You respond with a smile. “I never caught your brother's name.” You say, booping Dipper’s nose. “His name is Dipper!” Mable pulls him close to her, cheek to cheek. “We’re twins.” She mentioned. “So it runs in the family, huh?” You elbow the two sets of other twins you had the misfortune to partially grow up with. “Guess so,” Stan smiled. “Let’s play a get to know each other game.” Mable offered. Everyone surprisingly agreed. “Okay, let’s start with Great Aunt/Grunkle [Name]. Tell us about yourself.” The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the family and when the game was over, the twins had left, leaving you with Stan and Ford. “Thank you guys for not giving up on me.” You say into the hug. “We’re family! How could we ever abandon you?” Ford replies. An awkward cough emitted from you and Stan looked off to the side. “Oh.” The last thirty years had been rough, for you and the twins, but it was nice knowing that it ended with the three of you once again reunited at last. 

IT'S DONNE, and again if you guys want more i'll write more but till then i think this concludes word/insured YIPPIE

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

[fatehbaz]

In just eight blocks of sidewalk in quiet neighborhood, walking through the not-quite-rain of a sunshower, today I encountered four missing shoe soles. Little pieces of plastic and rubber, detached from pedestrians' shoes, now lonely on the concrete, with the weeds.

No such thing, really, as a "weed", though. "Weed" is not a botanical term. Instead, describes perceived pests, at the discretion of the observer. At the discretion of the authority. Designated as weed by the one with power over that land. The agronomist, the rancher, the plantation manager. The weed wastes space that could otherwise be given to a monoculture cash crop, an "economically significant" plant. The weed interferes with the productivity of the plot of land. The weed interrupts the extraction. The weed diminishes the value. The weed doesn't belong in this place.

People are made to be weeds, too.

Some cities will designate you as a weed, and then they'll take action to pull you out. They'll uproot you. But it's not always explicit, like "we're outlawing loitering" or "we're outlawing taking a nap in the park" or "we're defunding the library". Sometimes it's quite clever, it's written into the physical landscape. Self-congratulatory "progressive" cities learn to co-opt language, to obscure the violence, to use and abuse space.

Thinking about things you might encounter, you might perceive, after you've been destitute, broken, lived at a homeless shelter, for years. Little signs of other peoples' misery. Indicators of desperation that some might overlook. And the way that environment shapes, and is shaped by, these miseries.

A friend asks "why is there always an unusual amount of scuffed detached missing shoe soles on this particular stretch of sidewalk? There are hardly any homes around here, it's all asphalt and empty lots, so where are all these be-shoed people coming from?" Because even though this is a wide expanse without either home residences or any kind of commercial or recreation space someone would want to visit, these blocks are the straight-line direct path between a low-income apartment complex and the cluster of corporate big box stores, and there's no bus line that runs between the two areas. "But don't the vast majority of customers of shopping malls and box stores drive vehicles, hence the obscenely massive parking lots?" Sure, customers drive, but guess who actually has to work at those places? An underclass of people living at that apartment complex with harsh restrictions and cheap amenities, who can't afford car insurance or who might be too physically disabled to bike. And so that apartment complex is a de facto "company town", the residents are essentially in confinement. It is written into that landscape. It can be read. "Why is there always debris, wrappers, coins, etc. in this particular quiet couple of blocks of the boulevard?" Because these blocks are between a thrift store and a same-day drop-in clinic, so many impoverished people will routinely be walking between these two locations. They attend their appointment, and then have forty-five minutes to kill before the bus comes back around, so why not check out the thrift store? The city and county collaborated and placed all the low-income assistance offices on the far side of town, which conveniently forces the poor and disabled to both stay away from the luxurious downtown district and also to waste their time making a four-hour commute, catching various connecting buses or else riding the bikepath, across the city just to attend a ten-minute-long appointment.

Then this spatial layout, this city's physical environment, will shape the physical body. This violence writes itself into the flesh. The way the denim is chafed and discolored on the left shoulder of someone's jacket from carrying a small backpack around by foot, day after day after day. The way someone's heart rate increases when they see a white and black vehicle in the periphery of their vision, subconsciously recollecting institutionalization and institutional abuse, or fearing what a ticket fee would mean for their budget (they might not be able to afford rent). The way someone develops a painful limp, maybe occasionally depends on a cane, because they had to walk great distances every day to get to work and their shoe sole fell off on the sidewalk, but they can't replace the shoes because their employer is underpaying them, and they're forced to stand all day at work anyway, and they already had some modest nerve damage in their foot because they've been rationing their insulin and can't afford their prescriptions, and federal medical insurance keeps denying them because their physical letters in the mail always show up too late or not at all, and groceries are too expensive so it's hard to get good nutrition to heal, but the diabetic nerve damage has by now damaged their digestive tract too so they have a strictly limited bland diet and can't enjoy the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal (if they can even afford a home, at this point), and all those "little" miseries add up, and now they're hungry, and in pain, because they were forced to walk kinda funny for a long time over all those decaying sidewalks with all those other weeds.

[nickfowlerrr]

long way home

GIF by lilacevans

pairing: dark!lee bodecker x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY. cnc smut. spanking. unprotected sex. use of the word ‘daddy’ but not pertaining to lee. fluffy ending!

words: 4.7k

notes: truly cannot believe i finally finished this lol. this is as self indulgent as ever but hey that’s the way fanfic should be imo. 😌 anyway! thank you in advance for reading, and i hope you enjoy!

comments and reblogs always welcome and always appreciated. 🫶🏻

The sirens that start sounding just moments after you pass the curve of the desolate road have your heart lurching and stomach dropping.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you mutter pathetically as you try to take a deep calming breath.

You signal you’re going to pull over and the sheriff’s car follows behind you.

It’s late and there aren’t any other cars around as the sun sets on the horizon. It’s nearly 90° out, cooler than the day had been earlier, but the heat is still suffocating. You can’t fathom wanting to pull someone over right now.

You get your wallet out and grab the envelope that holds your insurance and technically out of date registration. You’re sure you know what this will be about.

As you watch the Sheriff emerge from his cruiser, you almost pity him as he wears what you can only assume is a very scratchy uniform. Long sleeves, pants, and a ridiculous looking hat. You don’t really feel bad though, he did this to himself.

As he approaches the back of your car, he squints as he looks into your vehicle. His hands find his belt as he saunters closer, a toothpick in his mouth that he plays with.

Your anxiousness builds as he takes his sweet time getting to your window.

You greet him with a forced smile as he leans down, slapping one hand on the hood of your car while he peers down at you, getting closer.

“Hi,” you offer timidly.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he drawls as he takes you in; clear blue eyes roving you up and down, twinkling with something…off putting. When his gaze meets yours again, his tongue moves his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You know why I stopped you?”

“My tags,” you answer, earning a squint from him.

“Your tags?”

“Was that,” your eyes round, “not why?”

He chuckles, “You got a light out, darlin’.”

“Oh,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he responds dully. “Expired tags, ya said?”

“Well,” you start, “they’re not exactly expired. The ones on my car are old, but the registration was paid for. I just don’t have the stickers yet,” you try to explain.

“Long way from home, aren’t ya?”

“Uhm,” your brows furrow before you can school yourself at his change of subject, “I- yeah. Just passing through on my way back.”

“Hm.”

It’s quiet between you as the air grows tense. You don’t know what to do or say, you just wait for him to continue.

“If I run your plates, am I gonna be catchin’ you in a lie?”

You stare dumbly for half a second. “Uhm, I don’t… I dont know how it’ll look or show up. I need to get my car smogged before I can get the new tags,” you admit, “but the registration is paid for. My dad paid it, he sent me the receipt and everything, I can pull it-“

“Daddy’s girl, huh?”

Your words cut off instantly but your lips stay parted in a sort of shock. Did he actually just say that? Ew. Your stomach roils at his words. At the way he’s looking at you, leaning into your car.

You titter, an uneasy sound escaping you as you give a wince of a smile. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this?

“I,” you breathe, don’t make matters worse, “yeah, I guess I am,” you shrug, offering a close lipped attempt at a smile.

Your response gets a wicked grin from him as he laughs and it makes you feel disgusting. You have to suppress the shudder that threatens to give away your agitation.

He isn’t an ugly guy, far from it if you’re being honest, but this is entirely inappropriate. You’re all alone out here with this man, a sheriff at that, and his creeping on you is verging from annoying to scary.

“Well unfortunately for you, sweetheart, I don’t think your daddy’s gonna be able to get you outta this one.”

His blue eyes are darker now and his voice is lower as he drawls his words.

Your heart stutters in your chest, squeezing as anxiety seizes you.

“What, what do you mean, sir?” you eek out through your tight throat, lashes fluttering as you search his eyes for any sort of humor, a sign that things aren’t as serious as he’s just made them sound.

“Well, you got a tail light out, old tags on your car, and your registration may be paid but that doesn’t mean it’s been renewed. I’d hate to have to take you in for somethin-“

“Take me in?” your voice raises despite yourself, “why would you take me in? You can just give me the tickets, I’m not arguing, I-“

“Did it sound like I was finished talkin’, darlin’?” he says, voice level but firm as he eyes you sharply.

Your mouth is open in your stupor before you answer, “No, sir,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry, I just-“

“As I was sayin’,” he cuts you off, spitting out his toothpick at his feet before his gaze cuts back up to you. He kisses his teeth as he stares down at you, “I’d hate to have to take you in over somethin’ that could be…easily resolved.” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look.

You’re disgusted.

This man is disgusting.

But there is no way he’s insinuating what he seems to be insinuating.

“Right, sir. I will get everything taken care of right away,” you nod with an anxious smile. Maybe playing dumb is the way to go here.

He tsks and your stomach drops right along with your smile.

“You know, the law here states that a driver gettin’ pulled over in an unregistered vehicle can result in said vehicle bein’ towed and said driver gettin’ their license suspended.”

You swallow hard as you let him continue, trying to will away the welling tears threatening to form in your eyes while you work to steady your breathing.

He sticks his palm out expectantly. Your brows furrow as you look at him until he instructs you. “License, darlin’.”

You scramble and find it in your wallet, handing it to him. His hand closes on yours as you place it in his hand and you force yourself not to jerk away too harshly as you pull your hand from his.

He examines your license as you wait with bated breath. You wish you could just put your car in drive and forget this stop ever happened.

“Really are a long way from home,” he muses. He drawls your name and flashes his eyes back to you for a split second. “Hm. Little old to have your daddy payin’ your bills, don’t ya think?”

You don’t respond. Shame and guilt at the reminder of your folly nipping at you again - worse now under the gaze of this man. You look at his badge as he keeps reading your license. Bodecker.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not judgin’ ya,” he smiles as he hands your license back to you, held between two fingers. You try to meet his eye but your embarrassment and anxiety keep you from holding it long as you slowly reach to take it back.

“I’ve always been under the belief that pretty ladies like yourself shouldn’t have to take care’a things like that on their own. Should have a man to take care of ‘em. 

Seein’ as that man’s still your daddy, I’m assumin’ you haven’t found someone for yourself yet,” he eyes you, “now how’s a gorgeous girl like you single?”

Your skin is crawling but deep down you’re almost grateful for the distraction from your law breaking. 

Almost.

“Sorry, sir, officer-“

“Sheriff,” he corrects.

“Sheriff. Am I getting ticketed, or…?” you trail off. Agitation ticks in his jaw and you regret not playing along and answering his question immediately.  “It’s just, it’s a long drive and I was hoping to make it home by tomorrow night,” you swallow hard, unconsciously clenching your jaw as you tense up.

“Right,” he scoffs. “Well…” he takes a deep breath, “looks to me like we got two options here, darlin’. And ticketing ain’t one of ‘em. Why don’t you do me a favor,” he says, stepping away from your door slightly, “turn off the engine and step outta the vehicle for me.”

“Sheriff?'' Your voice is quiet, undertoned with the terror you feel creeping up your spine. Why do you need to get out of your car? Why did your taillight have to go out? Why did you have to open your stupid mouth before he even told you what he was pulling you over for? Why did you have to drive through this stupid little town to begin with!

“I’m bein’ nice, sweetheart. Now you can either get outta the vehicle or I can remove you from it and put you in the back’a my own.” The turn of his voice, the dark shift in his eyes, you don’t have it in you to not listen to him.

You shut off the car, unbuckling your seatbelt, and slowly grab the door handle, breathing deeply as you push it open and step out.

God, it’s hot. You hold back a whine at the humidity that surrounds you and shift uncomfortably before the sheriff. He’s tall, and ten times more intimidating now that there’s not a metal barrier between you. You pull on the strap of your tank top as you wait for his next instruction.

“Keys,” he orders, holding out his hand.

You’re frozen despite the heat as you look at him with rounded, unsure eyes. You clutch them tighter in your hand.

You stutter a breath as he steps closer to you. He stares in your eyes as he grabs your hand and takes the set of keys easily before he strides past you back to his cruiser. You follow him with your eyes, turning your head to watch him over your shoulder.

He throws your keys into his car along with his hat before he shuts the door and comes back toward you.

“Two options,” he repeats as he stands behind you. “I think I know which one would be best for both of us.”

You feel heavy hands grip your hips and you shudder under his touch, a sharp gasp leaving you as you’re yanked back into the sheriff’s body. He’s groping you. He’s groping you and there’s no one around to see or stop him. There’s no one around to help you. There’s nothing you can do.

“Either I call a tow and get your vehicle taken down to the yard and take you in the back of my cruiser,” he rumbles in your ear as he leans into you, “or,” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw as he lowers his head toward your neck,

“And this is the option I’m rootin’ for-” he smirks, “-you get down on your knees and take care’a this,” he intones as he grinds his stiffness into your backside, earning a breathy squeaky from you as you squeeze your eyes shut. Praying to anyone who might be listening that this is all just a bad dream, that it isn’t real. “And I’ll take care’a you, darlin’,” he simpers darkly, his hands slithering down your body as he gropes you without care. You can’t do so much as eke out a word as he touches you. You want to scream, tell him to stop, to just take you to his station and tow the damn car. But you can’t. And even if you could… where does that leave you? Your parents have done so much for you already - too much. You can’t put more on them, can’t keep running to them to solve your problems. The sheriff was right, you realize, your dad isn’t gonna be able to get you out of this.

No one can.

You won’t be able to afford getting your car out, and you won’t have any way home.

He says you have two options. But it seems you both know that you only really have one.

“Mm,” he hums as he squeezes your hips and tummy, his thumb rubbing along the exposed skin at the hem of your top, “you’re soft.”

His hands slide around your body, pressing on your stomach as he works one down the front of your leggings.

It’s in the blink of an eye that you find yourself pressed against the side of your car, the sheriff firm on your back as he holds you in place. He has one arm around your waist as his other is down your pants. He forces a leg between yours as he urges you to spread them for him. Your knees hit the car as you begin to struggle and your chest squeezes.

The sheriff shoves himself hard against you and your body is forced even more firmly to your car as you cry out at the force. You grab onto his forearm as his thick fingers rub against your covered cunt.

“Ah-ah,” he admonishes, “none’a that now, sweetheart,” he rubs himself against your ass. His fingers don’t stop as they pull at the fabric of your underwear, finally getting the access he was looking for.

He chuckles and tears prick at your eyes in your mortification as you mewl pathetically, hiding your face against the car - your wetness undeniable as he delves between your folds. You groan as he pokes at your entrance. He swirls around your wetness and drags his fingers up your sex. He nudges your clit and your breath catches at the shock.

“There she is,” he smirks, his lips against your cheek. He presses on your clit and rubs the button in sloppy circles as your voice raises despite yourself.

“Sheriff, please,” you quake under his touch. You’re firm against your car as he keeps you pressed with his weight.

“You ain’t gotta beg, darlin’, I’ll give ya what you need.”

It sounds like a taunt as you teeter on the edge. His fingers work you closer and closer to your unwanted high and as you tense and a desperate moan leaves you, a deep moan sounds from him in turn. “You’re almost there, ain’tcha,” he breathes harshly. 

Your eyes stay screwed shut as you try to block him out while your nerve endings blaze in the building tension. That coil deep inside you winding tighter and tighter as it threatens to snap.

“That was a question, darlin’, fuckin’ answer it,” he growls meanly in your ear as he jerks you against the car again.

“Yes,” you cry, not bothering to lie. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” you murmur pathetically as that coil finally snaps and your orgasm crashes over you. You hold onto his arm without thinking as you come and barely register when he kisses your hair softly, keeping you upright and against him as you come down; your soft cries like music to his ears.

He slips his hand from your pants and you let go of him, leaning on the car instead as you try to calm your breathing. 

“Much as I’d like to feel that sweet little mouth a’yours around me,” he sniffs, “be a damn shame to not fill you up when your pussy’s cryin’ for me like she is.” The sound of his belt jingling and his zipper cutting through the air has you spinning around in horror.

“No, please. You can’t do this,” you whimper, “please, sir, I-”

You’re cut off by the sheriff’s hand gripping your jaw as he squeezes harshly while you look at him with pleading eyes and puffy cheeks.

“You listen to me, and you listen good, sweetheart,” he sneers in your face, “I can do whatever the hell I want to do, whenever the hell I want to do it, you understand me?”

It’s a question you know he’s expecting an answer to as you struggle out a “yes” through his tight grip.

He lets go of your face and moves to take your arm, his grip still as tight and harsh. You can feel his strength in every move he makes against you. “Walk,” he instructs as he urges you from your car and toward his cruiser.

You can’t breathe as a renewed wave of anxiety flows through you the closer to the back of the car you get. “Wait, you said-”

“I know what I said,” he interrupts you, stopping you in your walk as he gets in front of you to pull open the back door of his cruiser. “You ain’t in handcuffs, now, are you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’. 

“Then quit your blubberin’.”

He grabs you close again, quickly and easily shoving you down face first into the back of the car. You squeal and hold yourself up on the seat as he pulls your hips against him while he stands behind you, his back to the empty road. You’re only half inside the car as you feel him tear down your leggings and underwear. If someone were to drive by right now, they’d get quite the show as the sheriff shimmies down his still undone pants in kind. You’re grateful, at least, that you can’t see anything. Of course you know what’s coming next, but you won’t have to watch it, or have him see your face in this position.

The unexpected slap he lands on your ass has you yelping at the sting as he snickers, rubbing the spot gently before he does it again. 

“You like that, darlin’? I can see you gettin’ wetter already,” he taunts as he pushes the small of your back down, arching you more while he admires your cunt from behind. You feel his fingers as he rubs at you, dipping them past your entrance, slipping them in up to his knuckle while you huff through your nose, trying to hold back a moan as he wiggles them before slipping them back out.

You don’t know why you’re so shocked when the next thing you feel is his cock pushing into you. No verbal warning, just his heavy hand on your hip as he guides himself into your tight hole. He’s thick, thicker than you’ve ever had, and you want to die at the moan that floats past your lips as he groans in his delight as you're wrapped tightly around his length. His fingers flex on your hip as he frames your other side in kind, holding tightly onto you while he inches deeper inside your walls. He gets to your limit and holds himself there for a long moment. Your body moves on its own, your hips wiggling just the slightest in search of some kind of friction. 

You feel yourself heat up more in your embarrassment as he groans again, “knew you’d like this,” he says smugly.

You gasp sharply as he begins to move again, sliding almost all the way out of you before pushing right back in, your tight resistance spurring him on as your walls squeeze him snuggly. In then out, over and over again, his thick cock filling you up. With every thrust into you, he makes sure you feel every single inch of him.

Your wetness is undeniable, you can hear the lewd sounds of your fucking loud and clear as you’re rocked between him and the leather seats. The slapping of his hips against your ass and his heavy pants and growls as he grips you tightly, it all adds to the building, buzzing sensation growing inside of you. 

“Goddamn tight,” he pants, pulling you back into him by your hips as he fucks you hard, his movements growing more erratic the closer he gets. “Gonna make me bust inside a’you, darlin’. Fill you up nice and full’a my jizz,” he breathes heavily, groaning and slapping your ass hard, groping you as he moves you back and forth on his thick length.

You mewl, fingers clawing at the leather beneath you, your eyes scrunched in your thieved pleasure as you meet his thrusts. You don’t want this, but it feels so good. His cock hits that certain spot just right, and you can’t stop yourself from fucking him back in search of more. It’s awful, and it feels like heaven.

“Fuck, I’m gonna bust,” he moans, one hand slipping from your hip down to find your clit. Your walls clench around him as he winds you tighter with his touch. You don’t have a voice as you squeak a moan, eyes rolling as you drone out mindlessly, completely cock drunk as he slams into you, chasing his orgasm.

You're overcome by your own, blindingly so as the sheriff works you through it. You quake beneath him and suddenly feel the hot spurts of his come as he lets go inside of you, curses tumbling from his lips as he does, his hold on you never faltering. 

Slowly he comes down, chuckling through heavy breaths as he loosens his grip on you, instead rubbing circles on your hip.

You’re both breathing hard and you turn around gingerly to look at him, still holding yourself up on your arms. He’s pulling his pants up and zipping his fly when you both hear a rumbling approaching from behind the curve of the road just behind where you’re parked. Your brow is quirked as you listen. Head still foggy from your orgasm, you don’t piece together what the sound is. 

“Shit,” he curses as he fumbles with his belt, working quick to fasten it. “Get in, lay down, darlin’,” he instructs, pushing you back gently and closing the door on you just as you see headlights coming up from around the curve. 

You heed his instructions and lay down on the seat, heart racing, adrenaline pumping as you strain to listen past the doors of the cruiser.

You hear the car that was approaching slow down as they come up on the scene of your two cars, clearly curious. No one ever takes this back road, not even the oldtimers - not unless traffic is really bad on the main highway. But it’s late on a Sunday night, the highway is surely clear, and so should this road be, too.

“Sheriff Bodecker,” an old voice croons, “is that you, dear?”

“Ah, Mrs. Greenly,” the sheriff greets, “how are ya, ma’am?”

“Just fine, Sheriff. Comin’ back in from pickin’ up Walter’s medicine outta town. Everything alright out here?”

“Everything’s fine, ma’am. Just an abandoned vehicle we got a call about, had to come check it out before we call for a tow,” he nods toward your car. “Nothin’ to worry about,” he smiles.

“Oh,” she accepts, “well, you have a nice night, Sheriff. Stay safe.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a nice night, now,” he returns.

“And tell your little lady I said hello,”

“I certainly will,” he smiles again, nodding at her as she does the same.

You listen as she drives off, picking back up her speed as she does.

You hear the steps he takes as the sheriff comes back over to the door. You stare hard at him as he opens it to you and you sit up.

“What was it you said about this road never being used?” 

He laughs, leaning down close to you, taking your face gently in his hands before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply as you lean up into his touch, kissing him back just as fervently. A sudden desperation coming over you, you try to pull him down with you, to be closer.

He breaks away with a heavy breath, eyes closed as he presses his forehead to yours. When he opens them, you’re met with brilliant blue eyes gazing back at you. 

“I don’t recall usin’ the word ‘never’,” he evades as you shake your head at him.

“Lee Bodecker,” you say, pulling him down further into the backseat with you as you wind your arms around his neck, “you sir, are a menace. A silver tongued devil.”

He smirks and kisses you again before he gets off of you, getting out of the car and standing up with a groan. He holds his hand out for you and you take it as he helps you out of the car. There’s a sticky mess between your legs but you ignore it as you pull your leggings all the way back up.

Lee closes the door and turns you so your back is against it as he stands in front of you.

“But did you like it?” He asks, leaning into you just a bit.

You bite down your smile and nod, “Yeah, I did.”

“Knew you would,” he says against your lips as he kisses you again. His hands fall to your waist as he holds you. “You were real’ convincin’, too. Almost had me second guessin’ myself.”

You titter at that, “Yeah?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he affirms. “But then I heard that sweet little moan a yours.” 

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur softly as his lips tickle yours. Just barely touching as you breathe him in.

“Well,” he kisses your lips softly one last time before he pulls away from you completely, “it’s hot as hell out here, sweetheart,” he walks around to the passenger door of the cruiser and opens it for you. “Why don’t I take you home and see if I can’t get any other sounds outta ya,” he simpers. You meet him at the door, standing before him with a raised brow. “Been killin’ me not hearin’ my name fall from your pretty lips all night.”

You smile as you touch his cheek. “You wanna hear me moan your name?” Lee purrs in your attention as he steps closer to you. You smirk and bend to get into the car. “Gonna have to make me.”

He licks his lips as he watches you, closing the door for you once you’re settled. He gets in on the driver’s side and you continues, "But first I'm gonna need a shower. And a lotta cuddles," you add with a soft smile as you peer at him with loving eyes.

"I can do that," he agrees, the corner of his lips turned up in a half smile, his gaze just as soft for you.

"Home we go, then," you simper.

He turns his head back to the windshield and huffs as he takes notice of your car again.

He looks at you in exasperation, sighing. “You and this damn car.”

You look back sharply in challenge.

“Look, I already told ya I’m not lettin’ you drive all the way across the country alone in that thing. And I know your dad already paid your fees, but…” he sighs again and you wait for him to continue as you keep your eyes on his. “What’s it gonna take to get you to finally register it here, huh? It’s been two years. And I shoulda given you a ticket for it 22 months ago,” he adds.

You laugh, “Shoulda, coulda, but you didn’t.”

He narrows his eyes at you but it only makes you laugh more.

“It’s not my fault you flirted instead of ticketing,” you grin as you lean over the console to kiss him. “But I am grateful for it.”

You sit back down in your seat and buckle your belt as Lee hides his own smile at the memory of your first meeting, putting the car in drive as he rolls up to yours. 

“Gotta grab your wallet,” he says as he stops and gets out. You watch him as he does, admiring him - and weighing his previous question.

He gets back in, handing your wallet to you before he starts driving again, heading back into town.

“It’d be a bit of a hassle, ya know,” you muse aloud, “having to register here, getting a new id, new license, all that. Seems a little pointless just to change the state I’m living in…Now if there was something else that needed changing, something more important, something like,” you sigh dramatically, “my name, for instance, well then maybe that’d get me to finally do it,” you shrug. Lee looks over to you so quick at the mention of changing your name, you almost worry he might’ve hurt himself, but the lopsided grin that lights up his face assures you he’s just fine.

“Two years is a good while,” you add with a small smile of your own. “Plus, this place,” you emphasize, hoping he gets your meaning, him, you think as you reach for his free hand while he steers with his left, “feels a lot more like home than home ever has.”

[petew21-blog]

Healthcare insurance

Doctor Green approached his oncology patient in the ICU. The old man, Benedict Brown, suffering from lung cancer, was in the hospital for his late diagnosis of his condition, which wasn't improving.

Dr. Green:"Mr. Brown, I don't have very good news. The tumour is a small cell lung carcinoma. It is the direct result of your smoking. Unfortunately it is very aggressive and in your case has been diagnosed very late. We can offer you a support group along with some pain medication..."

Mr. Brown:"Are you JOKING ME?!? When I came months ago, you said it was just... eh ehh ehhhh cough cough... Just cough. And now you're telling me I'm gonna die?"

Dr. Green:"I'm very sorry sir. We did everything we could, but the diagnosis is final in this case and overall the condition can be hard to diagnose in early stages"

Mr. Brown:"You're just trying to get out of this so you won't feel guilty. For not treating me as you should. You turned me away and you know it damn well"

Dr. Green:"Sir, if there was something I could do, I would. But I am out of my options"

Mr. Brown smiled. "Oh there is one option. Come closer I can tell you. But send everyone away."

Dr. Green hesitated. But did as he said. Dr. Green sat down on a chair next to Mr. Green.

Dr. Green:"Ok. So tell me."

Mr. Brown grabbed Dr. Green's hand and started the incantation. Dr. Green could feel how the man's cold hands started getting warmer and warmer. And suddenly, he felt the warm presence all over his body.

Mr. Brown opened his eyes. He was sitting now and looking at the old man on the bed. He looked down and saw a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He inhaled a big ammount of air. "What a relief"

As soon as he said that, his old body started coding. He pushed the button and started doing a CPR. The doctors did what they could, but couldn't save the old man. Or atleast his body

But Mr. Brown didn't really care. Because he was now a young healthy doctor. And this time. He was gonna live his best life

Dr. Green:"What's happening?"

Mr. Brown:"Ahh, you're here too? You were supposed to die in my body. Oh well, I guess I can handle one black passenger."

Dr. Green:"How did you do this? Mr. Brown, you have to get out of my body!!!"

Mr. Brown:"You know what? I don't have to get out. This is my body now. And I'm gonna enjoy it"

Mr. Brown:"Fuck yeah, look at me in these sunglasses and a vest. Now your body has atleast some style, doctor. You should thank me. You were in desperate need of a makeover."

Dr. Green:"My wife will know it's not me. She will figure it out"

Mr. Brown:"Right. She won't last with me for too long. I can tell you that"

Mr. Brown:"The same goes for your job. I won't stay in healthcare with a body like this. That would be a waste of time. Now, I really wanna smoke so bad."

He got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He coughed

Dr. Green:"My body isn't used to it. You can't smoke"

Mr. Brown:"Oh don't worry about it. I'll get used to it pretty soon. Also, I don't need to smoke right now. Just need it to get some photos for Grindr"

Dr. Green:"Grindr? Isn't that for gay people?"

Mr. Brown:"Great job, Dr. Green. Exactly"

Mr. Brown:"Man, look at me. I look good. The jeans, the leather. The smoke. I look so fucking good. Thanks for the body doc. Since you killed mine. Oh yeah. Look at that. That's the one for Grindr"

Dr. Green couldn't believe what was happening. His own body was smoking and doing things he would never do. He was controlled by someone else, possibly forever. What was he gonna do? He can't stay like this forever. But what if he has to?

In the nearby alley the two men were kissing passionately. The younger one pushed the other against the wall, pressing his hard dick against his.

The man:"Aren't you a bit young for me?"

Mr. Brown laughed:"Well. What can I say? I'm an old soul"

Could you make a story in which a man who suffers from lung cancer takes revenge on his young doctor for not being able to cure him, possessing him and turning him into a smoker and gay? You could do the perspective of the old man in his new body and the young doctor being possessed and forced to see his changed appearance. I really like this guy by the way. https://www.tumblr.com/male-meat-suit/724018661918195712/maybe-a-story-with-this-one?source=share

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from the second season of hulu's the bear, created by christopher storer. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ you ever think about purpose? ❜

❛ i love you, but i do not have time for this, alright? ❜

❛ i have time for this. ❜

❛ you know what the fuck you're doing. you love this shit. it's fun for you. i don't have that. ❜

❛ i'm afraid one day, i'm gonna wake up and you guys are all just gonna just drop this ass. ❜

❛ if this shit is not fun for you, what the fuck is fun for you? ❜

❛ i'm not making the same mistakes i made last time. ❜

❛ what kind of insurance coverage do we have for people falling through the fucking wall? ❜

❛ sometimes, i look like february. ❜

❛ you want a sprite? you look kinda green. ❜

❛ can i ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off if you want? ❜

❛ chef, that's way too much acid. ❜

❛ you, uh, making a sundae? ❜

❛ that actually sounds delicious. ❜

❛ because you're the bear and i remember you. ❜

❛ i love taking care of you. and i always will. you know that? ❜

❛ i'm glad i came 'cause i get to eat this. ❜

❛ i gotta come up with three really great desserts. you got any ideas? ❜

❛ you ever made ice cream before, chef? want to? ❜

❛ it kind of tastes like a, um... minty snickers bar. ❜

❛ so how long you been a cook? ❜

❛ how’d you get good at this? ❜

❛ you can spend all the time in the world in here, but if you don't spend enough time out there... you know? ❜

❛ speaking of dead brothers, do you wanna go to a party? ❜

❛ it looks so pretty on you. you should keep it. ❜

❛ what's going on with you? i know there's something. just tell me. ❜

❛ what are you talking about, i don't give a fuck? why would you say that to me? i give like a huge fuck. ❜

❛ you're not by yourself, alright? i'm right here with you. ❜

❛ did you just throw a fork at me? ❜

❛ i think time spent doing this is time well spent. ❜

❛ never too late to start over. ❜

❛ i just want you to know... that this is really nice. ❜

❛ i'm thinking you're very, very beautiful. ❜

❛ we just don't say hello anymore? ❜

❛ you're wearing a suit? ❜

❛ uh, yeah, i wear suits now. ❜

❛ i'm sorry if i took anything out on you and if I treated you like shit. ❜

❛ i actually do think that we could fit good together. ❜

❛ i could be good at things that you don't really wanna do. and you're obviously really great at a whole bunch of stuff that I don't know how to do, you know? ❜

❛ i'm wearing a suit 'cause it makes me feel better about myself. ❜

❛ i know that you're trying. i see that you're trying. ❜

❛ you just came from a funeral? ❜

❛ yeah, a funeral of all my enemies. ❜

❛ you want me to make you some coffee? ❜

❛ i just need your focus like you need mine. ❜

❛ you good? ❜

❛ what's your relationship with your mom like? ❜

❛ alright, chef, i need you to salt that like a sidewalk. ❜

❛ looks gorgeous, chef. ❜

❛ i haven't eaten yet. ❜

❛ oh, let me make you something. ❜

❛ yeah, i can make you an omelet. ❜

❛ that wasn't like an ask out or anything, was it? ❜

❛  i'm looking really good. i 'm thinking you should start calling me chef. ❜

❛ well, i'mma keep calling you jagoff, 'cause that's what you like. ❜

❛ you deserve my full focus. ❜

❛ i guess i'm scared that i don't have what it takes to not fuck this up. ❜

❛ you're not gonna fuck it up. ❜

❛ i fuck things up all the time, like, every day. ❜

❛ you could do this without me. ❜

❛ i couldn't do it without you. i wouldn't even wanna to do it without you. ❜

❛ you make me better at this. ❜

❛ you still love to cook, right? ❜

❛ how's the wine? ❜

❛ yo. we're low on forks, chef. ❜

❛ okay, let's start firing some caviar, please. ❜

❛ i was just gonna say how special and cool and great this place is and how i'm the most proud of you ever. ❜

❛ i really appreciate you being so patient with me. ❜

❛ do i have time to go outside and scream "fuck"? ❜

❛ just don't tell them you saw me, 'cause this is embarrassing. ❜

❛ i love them so much. i don't know how to show it. ❜

❛ i don't know how to say i'm sorry. ❜

❛ i need you to say it's okay. ❜

❛ you are being so fucking weird, man. ❜

❛ i'm stuck in a goddamn refrigerator on the opening night of my fucking restaurant. ❜

❛ i failed you guys and it's not gonna happen again. ❜

❛ maybe i'm just not built for this. ❜

❛ because no amount of good is worth how terrible this feels. ❜

❛ i'm really sorry you feel that way. ❜

❛ would you shut the fuck up and get me the fuck outta here, please? ❜

❛ i don't understand why you can't just let something good happen for once in your fucking life? ❜

❛ you wanna talk to me about my fucking kid? at least i got a kid. ❜

❛ where were you when i fucking put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit? ❜

❛ i fucking love you! ❜

❛ you fucking need me. ❜

❛ i just had this sudden urge to tell you that i've always had this, like, massive crush on you. ❜

❛ i love you, chef. ❜

[carolmunson]

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

So because apparently both parties in my country oppose trans healthcare to some extent I want to make it very clear to cis people what healthcare they're opposing.

There's a lot of fearmongering about children undergoing medical transition. So I'm gonna walk you through what might happen to a child who is transgender and wants to go the full medical route. Let's say our hypothetical transgender child, I'll make him a him because I'm a him and I'll call him Rat because he named himself when he was 6.

So Rat would probably, unless he experienced precocious puberty, go on hormone blockers at age 9 or 10, a year or two before he would start experiencing puberty just to make sure he doesn't experience any female puberty symptoms. Then at about 13 or 14 he would have an appointment with his doctor and they would decide that he has been sure that he was a boy for many years now and he's at an appropriate age to start puberty, at which point he would be taken off the hormone blockers and put onto a dosage of testosterone that is typically of what his perisex camab peers produce naturally. Because he never produced estrogen he would not have grown breasts and not need top surgery. He would develop exactly how his camab peers develop.

Now I want to put an interlude here that literally all of this is reversible. At any point Rat could change his name back and go off the testosterone jabs and his ovaries would start functioning again and they would produce the appropriate estrogen to give him breasts and hips. He could take the same vocal training classes that trans women take, he could get laser hair removal on the places where appropriate, and it would be as if he'd never been on the hormones at all.

But he doesn't want to do that. He wants a penis so let's move onto that.

As far as surgery goes, he would not be able to have either metoidioplasty or phalloplasty until he was on hormones long enough to experience the necessary bottom growth to occur, which takes a couple of years. (At least that was what I was told in 2016 please lmk if standards have changed since then). So at this point we're already about 16 years old before surgery even comes up as an option at the doctor's office. And Rat, if he is particularly gung ho about getting a penis and his parents can afford it/insurance will pay for it, probably gets put on a waiting list for a consultation with a specialist in genital reconstruction. Let's say at that consult which probably takes a few months minimum to get into, he opts for the most similar to perisex male genitalia: phalloplasty with testicular implants. Right there we're looking at at least three different surgeries and not all of them are going to happen at the same time. He's 17 before he's ever even on the operation table and he's been consistently identified as male since elementary school. This is the fastest possible bottom surgery route I'm laying out for you here and he still not slanging it until senior prom when he'll give it an ill advised test run in the back of his parents Subaru with Kelly from the anime club. All of that is assuming there's a doctor who will do it for him that can fit him in. Some people wait years for surgery.

Now some people get top surgery younger, but guess what, breast implants both exist and can be removed. If a 14 year old gets a double mastectomy and regrets it when they're 23 they can get implants. If a 16 year old gets breast implants and regrets it when they're 20 they can get those taken out. Top surgery is not complicated and I've heard from guys who truely would not have made it if they hadn't gotten theirs done.

I know this won't convince anyone who opposes trans healthcare but I hope it at least explains transition to cis allies who support trans people getting healthcare but still might think minors not being allowed to have surgery is a moderate position. I invite any trans person to add onto this with a MTF perspective or how their surgeries helped them.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped. 

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’. 

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight. 

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter. 

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued. 

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice. 

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him. 

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat. 

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range. 

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly. 

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house. 

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat. 

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior. 

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled. 

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself. 

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement. 

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook. 

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered. 

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall. 

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke. 

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum. 

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John. 

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’. 

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.” 

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.” 

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible. 

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort. 

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father. 

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however. 

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'. 

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.” 

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly. 

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad. 

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!” 

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?��

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.” 

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you. 

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

  

 “NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you. 

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open. 

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde. 

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried. 

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool. 

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up. 

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed. 

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

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[clockwayswrites]

Neon Adjuration - Start

The bike sputtered to death on a cliché middle of nowhere American road. It might have well been straight out of a movie set with the rows of corn, gold light, and nothing else around for miles.

Jason was less than impressed.

After nearly an hour of pushing his bike and with the idyllic light quickly fading he was even less impressed. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have options. His insurance came with roadside assistance (he thought), he could give in and call a sibling to steal the Batplane and come get him, or a corn field wasn’t the worst place he’d ever slept. He had options, just none of them were really appealing.

Recognizing that the feeling was stupid didn’t make calling for help feel any less like giving up.

The corn field had to have rodents. As he had pushed his bike, they had turned from carefully manicured rows into wild, unmanaged looking things. Jason had enough sharing a bed space with rodents as a street kid to want to do it again. Jason was probably about ten minutes away from giving in and calling Dick when he saw the glow.

It was neon salvation looming out of the oppressive darkness.

The cyan light spread the furthest, but Jason could also catch magenta from where the sign was peering around the edge of what must be the shop the sign was connected too. The cast of the cyan light made the corn feel otherworldly, and Jason pushed his bike slightly faster. More of the sign was revealed with each step, carefully crafted letter by carefully crafted letter.

Jason nearly sagged in relief. Not only was it finally, blessedly civilization, but it was a mechanics shop. ‘Fix-it Freddy’s’, the sign cheerfully proclaimed. It sat next to just the sort of building that looked like it might hold up to the claim. The base structure was probably from the late 40’s, that magical time of growth when the war and dust had both faded, but it had obviously been altered and changed and repainted hundreds of times. Just from the light of the neon and the one, lonely white flood light above the large roll up door Jason could see a myriad of colors. The current one seemed to be an already fading cyan to match the sign.

Praying that shop either had someone still working or cheap security and a lock he could jimmy, Jason leaned his bike against his tired leg and rang the bell between the roll up door and the man door. His finger was barely off the buzzer before the aluminum panels shuddered and groaned. Creaking with all of the years in it, the door rolled up.

Hanging onto the chain was, well, not exactly what Jason was expecting to find out in the corn fields. They were young, Jason’s or close enough. The black hair was wild, long in the middle and pushed around from a long day of working with engine grease and oil but shaved close on the sides. The way the neon light caught their eyes practically made them glow. Their smile was almost concernedly easy. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” Jason said and then had to clear his throat and try again. “Yeah. I guess you’re Freddy?”

They laughed, tossing their head back. Magenta light brushed along the length of their throat. “Nah, Freddy’s been dead for nearly thirty years, not that it would stop him from working. I’m Danny, this is my place now. Why don’t you roll your bike in and we’ll take a look at it, okay stranger?”

“Jason,” he said reflexively.

“Jason,” Danny repeated with that same easy smile.

--

AN: Aaaaaaand Moody Monday check! (Can I get all the days of the week? Let's see! 2 down, 5 to go... fingers already taped together.)

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