#Toilet Handle Repair

[plumberofthewoodlands]

Plumber of The Woodlands

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[plumbingservicethewoodlands]

plumbing service The Woodlands

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[kendyzzlewp]

you can do it with a broken heart

summary: jackson broke up with you for no reason, so now you try to survive residency while working at the same place. but you’re a real though bitch, you can handle your shit

tags: fem!reader, jackson avery, angsty, ttpd

tw: mentions of su!c!de

—-

“You seem… okay.”

You looked at Meredith who was staring at you with a concerned expression. You shrugged, spitting the toothpaste from your mouth into the sink.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, grabbing a towel and wiping your face from any minty residue.

Meredith narrowed her eyes on you. “Well,” she said, entering the bathroom fully. “Avery dumped you.”

Your heart sank at the mention of him. You shook your head, forcing a smile. “So? It’s not the end of the world. He’s literally just a guy and I dumped him.”

Alex entered the bathroom, pushing past you to get to the sink. You locked eyes in the mirror and he shook his head.

“Pretty boy was not just a guy,” he grumbled, grabbing his razor. “He was like your person or twin or whatever it was you called him.”

Meredith hummed in agreement, sitting on the toilet with her eyes fixed on you. “He wasn’t just a guy, he was your guy.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Your stomach twisting like a wet rag at the topic of conversation. It had been two weeks since Jackson decided to end things after months and months of the stupid will they, won’t they dance. It wasn’t even a viable reason, he needed to focus on plastics and you needed to focus on cardio. It wasn’t you, it was him. After the boards things were going to be different.

Blah blah blah.

“I’m fine,” you said in a failed attempt to convince both of them and maybe even yourself.

Because you were the complete opposite of fine. You were completely ruined. They were right. Jackson wasn’t just a guy, he was the love of your life. Your best friend and one random fight escalated to the point where you turned back to strangers.

Derek popped his head in the bathroom, catching your eye with a sympathetic smile. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” you exclaimed, pushing past him to get to your room. “Perfectly, fine.”

——

“You gotta fake it, till you make it,” Arizona said as she masterfully dissected a burst appendix. “Break ups suck. The important thing is though that you win, you have higher ground.”

You had the faking part down, now making it? That’s a whole different story.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, your eyes on the cavity in front of you. That seemed to be your new phrase lately, it had variations but fine was becoming your old faithful.

For some reason, you decided to look up at the gallery. Your eyes meet green ones. So green yet so blue at the same time. Like a watercolor painting of a beach paradise. You swallowed the lump that blocked your throat. Knowing the intercom was turned on by the red light, you decided to prove it once and for all.

“I actually have a date,” you lied, your eyes darting back to Arizona’s hand as she finished sewing up the kid.

She looked up at the gallery with wide eyes before landing her eyes on you. “A date? With who?”

“Um…” you racked your brain trying to come up with a convincing answer, your eyes briefly meeting Jackson’s. “A lawyer…yeah.”

Arizona dropped the subject when the monitor started beeping wildly, the attention shifting towards the patient. You look up at the gallery again. He was gone.

You’re fine.

—

“He said he’d loved me all his life,” you sobbed one into your arm one night at Joe’s. Lexie rubbed your back sympathetically. “He lied.”

She sighed, passing you another napkin. “You are going to be just fine,” she said, taking your drink away. “No more tequila for you though.”

You shook your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “I can handle this, this is nothing.”

——

“It’s kind of ironic,” Alex said one day, watching you repair an aortic aneurysm in the gallery. “She wants to fix hearts for a living but can’t get her own shit together.”

Cristina mumbled an agreement, her eyes focused on the surgery. April shook her head, feeling sad for her friend.

Meredith shrugged. “She says she’s fine,” she said, taking a bite of her apple. “If that was me, I would’ve drowned myself in the bathtub by now.”

Cristina raised an eyebrow, turning back to look at her. “That was you and you did almost drowned.”

“She’s on the verge of a mental breakdown,” Lexie said, her eyes focused on a medical journal. “It’s a matter of time.”

“Avery is a dumbass,” Alex stated, earning a chorus of agreement from the rest of the residents.

All of them were blissfully unaware that Jackson was standing at the entrance of the library. His eyes focused on you as you performed your magic. The way you laughed as you bantered with Altman. His heart sank.

He really was a dumbass for letting you go.

__

You sat in the gallery with the rest of the group, your eyes focused on the surgery below. You mentally took notes. You hadn’t slept in days, food would not stay down no matter how much you tried.

The anxiety ate away at you constantly. The emptiness follows you everywhere you go. The hospital became your home as you dreaded going to bed alone.

Jackson entered the gallery, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. You still couldn’t be in the same room as him, no matter how cool you tried to play it. With a curt nod, you stood up.

As the tension mounted within you, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over, causing you to sway slightly in your place at the gallery. Cristina, noticing your unsteadiness, reached out a hand to steady you.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her voice.

You forced a smile, nodding weakly. "Yeah, just a little tired," you replied, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Lexie glanced up, furrowing her brow at your demeanor. "Are you sure?" she remarked, her voice tinged with worry.

Before you could respond, Meredith interjected, concern evident in her eyes as she set her half-eaten apple aside. "Maybe you should take a break, get some fresh air," she suggested, her tone gentle yet firm.

“I just need to leave,” you whispered, hurrying out of the cramped room.

You’re fine.

—

“Hey.”

You looked up from your study notes. Jackson stood in front of you, shifting from one leg to the other. His hand gripping the strap of his backpack tightly.

Your heart was pounding. “Yeah?” You cautiously asked, closing your notebook.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” he admitted, taking a step closer. “You looked rough in the gallery earlier.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. Anger, hurt, longing—each fighting for dominance as you struggled to maintain your composure.

"I'm fine," you replied, the words coming out more sharply than you intended. "Just a rough day."

Jackson's expression softened, his eyes searching yours for a hint of the turmoil raging within. "You know you can talk to me, right?" he said softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I know you. I know you haven’t been eating or sleeping. Meredith told me you barely go home nowadays.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, surprising even yourself. "Talk?" you scoffed, the words dripping with sarcasm. "About what, exactly? How you broke my heart?"

His eyes widened, a pained expression crossing his features. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was doing what was best for both of us."

"Best for both of us?" you repeated, incredulous. "How is dumping me, without a single good explanation, the best for me?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You blinked them back, refusing to let him see your pain. "You don't get to waltz back into my life and act like everything's okay," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm not your consolation prize, Jackson."

He reached out a hand, as if to touch you, but you flinched away, the pain of his betrayal still too fresh. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I thought it would be easier this way."

"Easier for who?" you shot back, your anger simmering just below the surface. "Not for me, that's for sure."

With a heavy sigh, Jackson took a step back, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. I'll leave you alone," he said, his voice filled with resignation. "But just know that I'm here if you ever need me."

As he turned to walk away, you felt a pang of regret, a part of you longing for the comfort of his presence. But you pushed it aside, steeling yourself against the pain. You had survived his absence once; you could do it again.

You’re good. You can do it with a broken heart.

[djarintreble]

Two Lines || e. munson

pairing: dad!eddie x fem!reader

tags: part of my dad!eddie series, arwen munson asks all the right questions, pregnancy test + positive results, repair shop eddie canon, so much fluff i could cry, eddie being the best dad + husband

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi friends, it’s been so long! i see all your requests and im working on them slowly but surely! i couldn’t find the post that requested this but it was along the lines of “GIVE ARWEN A BABY BROTHER!” so surprise! the munson family is growing!! ✨✨

_____________________________________________

Arwen was always a chatty baby. Taking from her father, she made her presence known anywhere you went. The grocery stores, libraries, you name it. You loved that about her. Eddie always encouraged her and would follow along with her antics creating endless entertainment for you. She was also a smart child. Your husband claims that's a trait she could only carry from you. The combination of both traits created a curious baby who, when words could be articulated, would question everything around her.

At the age of two, she was able to comprehend the fact that she could ask for a sibling. As if that’s all it took to have one. That grocery trip was very memorable. Eddie began to drive away from the store when Arwen asked "Where's my baby?"

Now as she turned five, her observant nature continued to create milestones as she asked yet again, "How much longer until I can have my baby?"

You were brushing out her hair, helping her get ready for her second week of kindergarten. She asked while looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. Her beautiful brown eyes wide as she tapped her legs at a steady tempo, fighting the urge to move as you fixed her hair.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" You asked with a slight smile.

"You've been sick. Heather's mommy said she was very sick when Heather had her baby brother."

You've yet again been left speechless. You have in fact not felt well the past few days. Something was off. They say children and animals know first...

"Well, uh, Arwen... As soon as mommy knows she's having a baby, I'll be sure to tell you. But you can also get very sick for other reasons too. Like eating too much sweets after dinner." You nudged her, giving a knowing look in the mirror. She gave a nervous smile. She's been caught.

"But daddy said I could have them." Your change in topic worked well as you finished putting her curly hair into a loose ponytail.

"Of course he did. It's alright. As long as dad or me say you can. Maybe that's why I haven't been feeling well."

"Eating too much sweets?"

"Eating too much sweets.” You confirmed. “Now let's go. You don't need to start your tardy record this early on in your academic career."

•••••••••••••

You got back into your car after dropping Arwen off for school. Her words seemed to haunt you as you began your trek to the general store.

This trip was originally suppose to be to pick up a few items needed to make dinner and more toilet paper. Now you couldn’t help but steer into the aisle that held the item that might confirm or deny the lingering question in your head. “Was Arwen right about me being pregnant?”

Aimlessly walking through the aisles, you kept thinking through the ‘what if’ questions in case the test does come back positive.

What will eddie say? are we ready? is arwen really at the age to handle a sibling? do we need to move into a bigger house?

The one thing that you didn’t necessarily care about in Hawkins was that everyone talked. You knew that if you were picking up a test and anyone saw you checking out with it, people would talk. Not that you cared, it came with the territory, but it made it real. You grew up here along with Eddie. Eddie was always the talk of the school. Apart of you was always scared, despite being out of high school, of anything causing Eddie or his family to be in the center of the towns gossip.

You picked the most discreet package and quickly checked out with the cashier you knew the least. It felt stupid, but you always wanted to do what you could to keep your life more private in the drama filled town called Hawkins.

With groceries for dinner, toilet paper, chocolate and a pregnancy test, you left bradley’s big buy and headed to the house.

••••• | | ••••••

Two lines.

You couldn’t believe it.

Two lines.

You were expecting another child. Joy clearly painted on your face as your mind raced off all the ways to tell your husband. All the jokes of starting a family band. All the times Arwen asked for sibling.

After pacing the bathroom over ways to tell Eddie, you finally figured it out. Eddie would pick Arwen up from school and they’d both be home in about an hour. It was perfect.

••••••••••

The door opened and you could hear your daughter running into the house as her sneakers squeaks through the halls.

“Hi mommy, we’re home!” she yelled.

You were in the kitchen starting the preparations for dinner. You listened out for Eddie as you continued to hum to yourself, cutting up some carrots. You couldn’t hide the smile that came from the anticipation of sharing the news to your husband and daughter.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie entered the kitchen and went straight to wrap his arms around you. You continued to cut up the vegetables. “How was your day?”

Your husband smelled like fuel, forest mint shampoo and a touch of cigarettes. It was a scent you became familiar with and it suited him. He worked at the local repair shop and the fumes always seemed to linger home with him. You didn’t mind it though, it was your Eddie.

You put your knife down to turn around in his arms and look at him. He had his typical messy work ponytail, the coveralls were unbuttoned and rolled to his waist so he was left in a white t-shirt that had some grease stains and his guitar pick necklace laid over the shirt. You could never get over how beautiful your husband was. Sure you agreed to other words, but beautiful was what came to mind in that moment. Maybe it was the hormones.

“Well hello to you,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Better now that you’re here.” You smiled.

“You know flattery gets me.” He smirked, giving you another peck before letting go and heading toward your room. “I’m going to get a shower real quick. I’ll be right out.”

While he showered you finished putting your dish together to cook in the oven for an hour. This was all the time you needed to share the news.

“Hi mommy.” Arwen said, following you into the living room.

“How was school, sweet girl?” You asked, hoping she’d ignore the guitar case that was randomly on the coffee table.

“Good.” she shrugged. “Ms. Jones said we’re doing a concert for veterinarian day.” Arwen smiled wide, showing off her new missing tooth.

“Veterinarian day?” You puzzled.

“Yeah! Where we sing for the soldiers of America.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Do you mean ‘Veteran’s day’?” You pondered.

“That’s what I said! Veterinar-ran’s day.” Her furrowed eyebrows in confusion made you laugh even more as she didn’t see a difference in her words.

“Well that sounds like fun! Did you tell daddy?” You brushed back Arwen’s fly away hairs as she bent down to sit against the coffee table. Some of her coloring books laid open from her previous drawing session and she continued where she left off, clueless to the guitar case still.

“Yeah he said I’m going to get a solo.” She shrugged again so nonchalantly as she colored it amazed you the amount of confidence one 5 year old have. Well imagine having two.

That reminds you.

“Hey, Arwen, sweetie.” Your daughter looked up at you. “Would you wanna help me keep a big secret? I’m gonna surprise daddy in a second and I need your help.” You whispered. She jumped up and dropped her crayons with a big nod.

“Okay!” The giddiness expressed on her face was enough to make you cry. She scurried over to put herself between your legs as she leaned in to hear the secret.

“Remember you asked me earlier if I had a baby in my tummy?” Her eager nods almost hit your head before you leaned back a bit. You pulled out the test and showed her. “I went and got a test that tells me if you were right. Look, it has one line for no baby and two lines for yes baby. Can you count with me?”

Arwen was learning her numbers so it was important to find any chance to have her count. This seemed like a fun moment to remember. She stuck out her finger and pointed in the air as she counted out loud.

“One… Two… There’s two.” She smiled at the accomplishment of counting properly. By then, she realized just what the two lines meant. With a shriek that could alarm the neighbors, Arwen jumped into your arms and gave you the biggest hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She repeated.

“Thank you?” you laughed. Those were not the words you were expecting.

“I wanted a baby sister for so long.” She beamed.

“Well I can’t promise a sister but we will see! Now listen, I want to surprise daddy but I promised I’d tell you as soon as I knew. When he gets out of the shower, can you keep a secret while I’ll tell him?” You made a shushing sound as you quietly put the test inside the guitar case. When Arwen realized what you were doing, she snickered to herself, covering her mouth with her tiny hands.

“Was that Arwen?” You heard Eddie say from across the house. Arwen looked at you with wide eyes and tan back to the other side of the coffee table to resume her coloring as you sat, pretending to open the guitar case.

“Yeah… She was showing me how she was going to audition for that solo you promised her.” You looked up at your husband who was now fashioning a pair of black lounge pants, a faded band tee and he was scrunching his wet hair with his towel.

“If that’s how you’re gonna sing I might need to take that back.” Eddie laughed. “Is something wrong?” He grew more suspicious. With hearing Arwen scream from his shower and then you messing with his guitar case, he was nothing but skeptical.

Your eyes grew wide as you noticed his eyebrows begin to bunch up the same way Arwen’s did just moments ago. “Yes, Arwen told me she put a toy in your case but I can’t seem to open it to get it out, can you try?”

Eddie looked over at Arwen in a slight disappointment of messing with his guitar case but you reassured her she was okay with a quick wink.

After sitting down beside you, Eddie gave your leg a pat and pulled the guitar case closer to him.

“Let’s see what toy you got stuck this time. If it’s Ozzy Osbear, we’re going to have to have a word.”

As soon as he said that, the clicks of the guitar latches undid and you sucked in a breath. The case opened and you could hear Arwen begin to giggle next to you but to you were too busy looking at your husbands reaction.

Eddie’s face was blank as he stares at the positive test sitting in his guitar case. The quietly controlled giggles from your daughter turned into a fit of laughter and cheers. She jumped up from the coffee table once more and wrapped her arms around your neck as you both waited for Eddie’s reaction.

He hasn’t moved since he opened the case, staring at what signified a new chapter in the book you called life. This was the exact opposite reaction he had when you shared you were expecting Arwen. Then, it was so sudden. You woke up one morning sick as a dog and Eddie suggested you took a test as a joke. When it was ruled positive, it was you that was silent. Eddie was ecstatic, jumping around your bedroom with hoots and hollers before smothering you in kisses.

Now he just stared.

“Eddie, you okay?” You finally asked. He finally turned to face you with an uncertain face.

“We need to move the band equipment to the garage.” He said, randomly.

“What?” you giggled. “We don’t have a garage.”

“Oh.” Your husband responded, contemplating. “Then I need to sell some of it or see if Gareth could hold some of it. We need a house with a garage.”

“Is daddy okay?” Arwen let out. She was just as confused as you were.

“Let him think it out, Ari.”

“Do we need a bigger car? I knew it was stupid to get rid of the van. Maybe a mini van?” Eddie continued.

“Eddie-“

“Did we get rid of all of Arwen’s baby clothes? Maybe we could reuse them to save-“

“Eddie!!” You caught his attention. “Hey, stop that smart brain of yours for one second.” You placed a hand on his cheek to which he had no choice but to lean into.

“You’re pregnant.” He said quietly.

“Yes, I am. And we’re going to have another baby.” Saying it out loud made it a reality and suddenly you couldn’t hold back the tears. “And you’re an amazing father because before anything you’re first priority was to provide. We don’t need a new house or a new car. You’re all this baby,” you pointed down to your stomach, “Arwen and I need. I am so thankful for you.”

Without another word, Eddie pulled you into a deep kiss. One that confirmed with you that he was just as happy as the day you found out you were pregnant with Arwen. It just caught him by surprise.

“We’re having another baby.” He repeated.

“I’m having a baby sister!” Arwen exclaimed. This caught the three of you in a laughing fit. Eddie leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you as he nudged his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Or baby brother.” You responded to which Arwen gave a grimaced look.

“No. A sister.” She shrugged.

“Whatever it is,” Eddie started. He pulled back to place a hand on your stomach, “Welcome to the Munson family band, kid.” He kissed your stomach and pushed back up to kiss you again. “I love you, sweetheart. You’re amazing.” He then jumped up to grab Arwen. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s time to celebrate! MOMMY IS HAVING A BABY WHOOO!” He ran across the house holding Arwen upside down. Her giggles faded as Eddie ventured to the kitchen for a celebratory dessert.

You took the test out of the case and followed after them. If this is what life was like with Eddie and your kiddos, you could totally see having more. Maybe it’s the high of the celebration or the deep love you had for your husband. Either way, it clicked…

You really did new house with a garage because your family, both chosen and given, was getting bigger no matter what.

—

series taglist: @geekmom3 @ruinedbythehobbit @dark-academia-slut

honorable tags I think would enjoy this story based on previous interaction (I love your comments on the last stories so hi ily): @aesthetic-lyssa @yodelingtea @wintermunsonreads @lovelyladymayyy

eddie munson taglist thread: @catpjimin @senthiasworld @foxsmvlder @a-lil-pr1ncess @cryuki-patootie

[abbyromanoff]

Can you do kinda like a porno trope thing where the reader is a milf who needs help fixing something and GP beefy mechanic nat comes over to help and they end up having sex after lots of sexual tension (like reader touching Nat’s muscles or nat staring at readers boobs or ass) with daddy kink, praise and breeding

A hot affair

Pairings: g!p Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: the ask just written down basically

Word count: 2185

Warnings: smut, small angst, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, praising, degrading, slapping, cheating, talks of cnc, anal, reader is a milf

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

A knock at your door brought you out of your thoughts as you walked to the front of the house to greet the plumber. The sight you saw wasn’t one that you expected, there stood a tall woman, probably close to six feet with her muscles bulging out of her shirt. She smiled at you as her red hair shined in the sunlight. You composed yourself and let the woman in, staring at her larger ass as she walked inside the house.

Your husband and kids were gone, the kids being at school while your partner was at work until 7:00 PM leaving you and Nat alone. You directed her to the toilet that she had to fix, stating the object won’t flush. She immediately got to work as you made your way into the living room, grabbing your broom and continuing with your sweeping.

Nat was able to figure out the issue in no time, she didn’t understand why your husband was too lazy to fix it himself but at least she’s getting paid. Gathering her tools into her tool box she walked out of the room only to find you bent over using a little broom and dustpan. From here she could see a clear view of your ass as your skirt slightly rose to show a small bit of your white panties. She quietly pulled out her phone and snatched a photo before you turned around, jumping slightly when seeing her.

“Oh god, you scared me!” “Sorry about that, but uh, I finished, the toilet is now working. It was just a small jam in the back, nothing too bad. If you’d like I can show you how to fix it in case it ever happens again.” She was never this nice, maybe it was your attractiveness that made her drawn to you. You hesitantly agreed, now being seemingly nervous around the woman. Once you returned the cleaning item to the kitchen she walked you to the bathroom, resting her hand on your lower back almost touching your butt. When you entered the washroom she made you lean over to look at the back of the small machine, showing you exactly how she repaired it.

“Oh okay, thank you so much. I’ll go get your money, how much did I owe you again.” You grabbed your purse from your room as soon as she finished, trying to get her hands off of you as you remembered you’re married.

Nat sighed before answering, “Uh, it was $186 dollars, you can just send me the money on-” She cut herself off as she saw your now larger looking breasts under your v-line shirt. You looked up to see what she was going to say until you noticed her eyes trained on your slightly exposed chest, bringing your shirt up a bit to cover it as you handled the money. When noticing you were eight dollars short you cursed to yourself under your breath and turned to look at her apologetically.

“I’m eight dollars short, is there any way I could pay you on ApplePay or something?” “Oh no it’s f-” When she was about to finish her sentence she realized her mistake and quickly stopped herself, a smirk growing on her face as she thought of what to do.

“Well, that money is really important and sadly I don’t have ApplePay,” That was a lie. “But not to worry, I think I know another way you could make up for those eight dollars.” You were about to ask how until she leaned in for a bruising kiss making you stumble a bit. You didn’t kiss back, as attractive as she was, you knew you had to stay loyal to your husband even if he is an asshole. When she didn’t feel you kissing back she retreated, looking at you like you just told her that her family died.

“Why aren’t you kissing back?” She asked with pure hurt in her tone, she didn’t know why she felt so much pain from your denial but she did. You looked down, placing your hands on her strong chest as you sighed.

“Nat, I’m married. As hot as you are and as much as I’d love to kiss you, I still have a family.” You started to move away from her but she grabbed your arms before you could, her eyebrows furrowing at your words.

“But your husband is terrible, I heard you two talking on the phone and I mean, do you really want that asshole? He treats you like you’re dirt when you’re clearly not.” Her words made you want to smile but remembering the situation, you held back.

“And if I did kiss you? How do I know you wouldn’t treat me the same way?” She looked like you just stabbed her in the heart, pure betrayal even if you barely knew her.

“Let me show just how well I’ll treat you.” When she leaned in to kiss you, you didn’t back away, you accepted the touch and let your walls fall down. The kiss was sweet, magical even as she used her hands to lightly rub your sides and slide down to grope your bottom. You lightly jumped at the contact and Nat chuckled dryly as she moved her head down to your neck, planning to leave marks that your husband would see from a mile away. You groaned at the feeling of her lightly biting your skin and played with her red locks as she did so, not caring that she was leaving hickeys. Her curious fingers trailed to under your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties as she loathed in the small wet spot lying upon the undergarments.

“Please Nat, please fuck me.” You begged quietly, embarrassed with how needy you sounded.

“You need to be more specific than that baby, you gotta tell me what you need.” “Need your fingers, I need you to fuck me with your fingers!” She groaned and bent you over the counter, tracing your panties once again before inserting the digits into you. You bit your lip to not release any sounds but Nat wasn’t having that, she wanted to hear just how good she was making you feel. Grasping your lower lip she yanked it out of the hold your teeth had on it and made you look at her as her two fingers sped up its pace.

“Look at me when I fuck you sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it, look at daddy.” The title she gave herself shocked you slightly but turned you on, the thought of calling her that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Please daddy! Please fuck me harder!” “You want it harder? You’re such a dirty little slut, begging daddy to fuck you as if she isn’t already.” You nodded, not really knowing what she said but just wanting her to fulfill your request. She complied and thrusted her slick fingers into your tight hole faster, feeling you clench around them. She muttered dirty words under her breath as she listened to your moans and the squelching sounds from your pussy. You felt the coil in your stomach snap as you reached your peak, not warning the younger woman first.

When she realized that you were cumming she quickly removed her fingers, slapping your ass in a warning.

“Did you just cum without permission?” Her words along with the tone scared you, you didn’t realize you had to ask her to cum. You started spewing out apologies as she gave you a disapproving look.

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know I had to ask a-and I didn’t even realize I was going to cum, I promise.” She softened up at your words and you relaxed knowing she wasn’t mad at you.

“Oh my poor baby, you haven’t had an orgasm in a long time, have you?” When you nodded she continued, a cute pout on her face. “Of course you haven’t, I don’t expect that husband of yours to know what he’s doing and you, you my precious angel probably don’t even know how to masturbate.” She could tell what the answer was with your embarrassed face, laughing slightly as she started rubbing her bulge on your backside.

“Fuck, wish I could just fill this sexy ass up with my dick. You’d let me, wouldn't you? You’d let me fuck your ass even if you didn’t want it? You’d let me do whatever I wanted to you even if you didn’t want it, I know you would you perfect little whore.” As much as you wanted to deny it, she wasn’t lying. You wanted so badly for her to take you without your consent, but for now that would just be your dirty little secret. While you were stuck in thought she had already taken off her pants and only when she started rubbing herself on your clit did you return back to the real world. When she alined herself up with your gaping hole you thought she would finally fill you up, but she didn’t. No, she just sat there waiting for you to plead her, waiting for you to take matters into your own hands and lean into her length.

“Beg me for my cock princess, fucking beg me.” “Please daddy, please! I want you to stuff me full so badly! I need you to put your babies in me, need your fat cock filling me up.” Your words made her shutter, thinking about pumping you with so much cum that you get pregnant made her even harder. Pre-cum dripped from her wanting length as she started to slip inside of you slowly, wanting to be careful as to not hurt you. When she was all the way inside of you she didn’t move, she waited for your thumbs up which you quickly gave, wanting her to fuck you already.

“Mm, so tight princess, can barely even fit.” Her arms wrapped around your torso as she started a slow pace, only quickening when you begged her to go faster.

“My little slut wants me to destroy their pussy? They want me to use their tight little hole as a fleshlight, use you for my pleasure only?” When you nodded it was like something switched inside of her, she slammed her cock in and out of you as you shook beneath her, your breasts bouncing back and forth with every move. She removed one of her arms around you and slapped your ass repeatedly, watching as the smooth skin turned a shade of red. She brought her fingers to trace your buttock, teasing the small hole that layed upon it.

“Will you let me finger your ass baby? I would use my cock but I’m a little busy fucking your perfect little pussy.” She didn’t give you time to respond as she slowly started to sink her digit into your ass, moving in and out without giving you time to breathe.

“Daddy! Too much!” She shook her head even though you couldn’t see it, denying what you said.

“No, no, no sweetheart, it’s not too much. You can take it, just be my good girl and let daddy play with you. You said you’d let me do anything I wanted right? Even without your consent?” You yelled out a ‘yes!’ as you barely even gave it time to think about, just aiming to please Nat in whatever way she wanted. She chuckled dryly and added a second finger, watching as your face contorted into a pained one.

“Daddy, think I’m gonna cum. Can I cum please?” Noticing you fixed your earlier mistake and asked to cum made her smile, as much as she wanted to torture you for hours and not let you have that release she knew you so desperatly needed it.

“Cum for daddy baby, be my good little toy and cum all over my cock.” With her permission you finally let go, your legs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you. Nat finally let herself finish as she came inside of you, filling up your cunt like she wanted so badly.

“I’m cumming baby, let me fill this fucking pussy with my cum. I’ll make sure you get pregnant, wanna watch as your stomach grows all big and round, these sexy tits getting full with milk. I promise I’ll take care of you, I’ll fuck you everyday and make sure you stay pregnant, you’ll never have to see that shitty excuse of a husband ever again.” You could barely register her words as you were too engrossed in getting yourself off.

When your breathing returned to a normal and Nat finally pulled out she fingered her come back inside of you and licked them clean, slowly removing her other digits out of your tight ass and watching as it clenched around nothing. She grabbed a notepad and a pen, writing down her number and handing it to you.

“I want you to call me over the weekend, make sure your husband is here so he can hear how well I’m fucking you.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not caring about/belittling my friend's problems because I feel my problems are way worse?

I am homeless. I live in a car. It majorly sucks, but I can tolerate most days and get through them. My friend is well aware of this fact and I complain about it extremely rarely, as I don't want to be bitching and moaning constantly. And generally, I actually can get through most days and while I'm never truly happy, most days, I'm neutral. That doesn't mean the difficulties magically disappear, however, but I can manage them mostly fine.

However, there is one obstacle that I consider worse than all others and is much, much more difficult to manage, especially the longer it goes on.

Showering. Getting clean. Personal hygiene. However you want to phrase it.

I can scrape by with baby wipes and whores' baths in park bathrooms, but at some point, I can't handle it any more and it genuinely takes a toll on my mental health.

Now on to my friend.

He still lives with his parents (no hate to those who live at home- I'm just pointing this out to illustrate the fact that he doesn't pay rent or bills, other than small ones for himself, like his phone bill) and has no children or responsibilities. He does have a job, but since he has no bills to pay and no kids to support, he always has spending money and doesn't really struggle.

He also constantly complains to me about random shit every day- his job (where he makes double what I make) or his parents (whose house he lives in)

Now, one day, the faucet in his shower was leaking. A plumber came over to fix it and shut off the water while he was repairing the faucet. My friend sent me a text every 10-20 minutes complaining about not being able to shower and having to flush the toilet with a bucket of water.

I told him that I know that sucks, because when I was growing up, our toilet broke and it took the landlord 3 months to send somebody to fix it. And during that time, we had to fill the toilet daily with water. For 3 months. So I understood very well.

Also, my friend has a gym membership that has showers (that he refuses to go to, because the showers are "gross") a rich friend that has multiple houses and gave my friend a spare to one of them, and an uncle who lives right next door who has functioning water facilities. So he very, very easily could've showered. Yet, he complained to me about how hard it is to go so long without a shower.

Oh, how long was it, you may be wondering?

SIX HOURS. 6. Not even a full fucking day.

So I told him all of what I just said. And told him what an entitled dick he was being when he didn't even have to go a full day without showering, meanwhile I hadn't had a real shower in over a month.

So AITA? I mean, it's not really a contest for who has a shittier life, but you have to admit that someone complaining to you about the same things that you're going through, but on a WAY, WAY smaller scale is kind of frustrating.

What are these acronyms?

[annwrites]

a house in hawkins. part two.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: billy comes to see you again, bringing you dinner & the two of you share hard truths

— tags: billy pining

— tw: mention of drugs, mention of domestic violence, eating

— word count: 4,117

— a/n: finding gifs of billy that even somewhat fit my posts for this series is gonna be difficult as hell

Billy struggles to get to sleep that night, because every time he begins to drift off, his heart starts to pound as he thinks about seeing you again the following day.

He feels like a damn teenager again at the excitement that fills him at the prospect of it—finally learning more, anything—about you. You clearly were not a social butterfly. Content to be left alone was more your style. That much was easy to detect right away. And, normally, he would respect that. But there was just something there that drew him in, left him wanting for more.

He was lonely. Had been his entire life. Even when he was surrounded by people worshipping the ground he walked on. And it didn't take much observation to reach the summation that you were as well. Why else would you be spending your spare time in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere?

He wonders where you come from. Is your dad, or even your mom, like his? Surely you're not homeless, and he hadn't chased you out of the only place you had to call home, right? He frowns at that thought.

The least he could do to make it up to you was offer you...something. Money? He has a feeling you may be insulted by that. What if he offered to work on the house, then? Just some general repairs. Were you going hungry? He could always bring you something to eat—whatever you wanted.

He sighs, rolling over, squeezing his eyes shut. And is then greeted by the sight of you staring up at him from inside that closet.

It was going to be a long night.

Billy drags the next day at work. Thankfully, he doesn't commit any screw-ups, but he does end up cursing a bit more than usual while working on the undercarriage of a Pontiac.

He's beyond relieved once the workday is through and he can leave. He has half-a-mind to head straight home, desperate for a hot shower and a lie-down, as well as dinner, but instead opts for a brown bag filled with greasy diner food, and driving up that dirt road yet again.

"You here? I brought dinner!" Billy calls into the empty house.

He heads upstairs, same as yesterday, and the room with the mattress—as well as the closet—is empty.

He turns back around, trying the door you had locked yesterday...and finds it unlocked.

He steps inside, and finds furniture covered in stained white sheets, and there is indeed a window on the wall opposite him, which is now shut.

So, you'd been back. He wonders if you're here now, then decides he's not leaving until he's looked through every room.

A normal person wouldn't be trying this hard—honestly, a normal person wouldn't have cared this much in the first place about you coming here—but he was committed to getting answers now. No matter how long it may take.

The next room he tries has nothing more than a broken bedframe in it, a wooden bedside table with a lamp set atop it beside of it—the shade hanging loosely from it, and a shattered window. The one past it is a small bathroom, with a clawfoot tub against the left wall, a toilet and sink against the other, which all need a good scrubbing.

He sighs, going to try the room to his left now—the one before the room with the mattress—and finds the door locked.

He smiles. "Found you," he mutters.

He doesn't bother with knocking; he knows you won't open it. So, he instead kneels, setting the brown bag on the floor, and retrieves a multi-purpose knife from his pocket, pulling out a miniature blade from the side, then jamming it in the lock. He doesn't bother trying to jimmy it open; working with the doorknob. Perhaps he was being an ass right now, but once he was done, the handle would never lock again.

If it meant that much to you, he'd replace it with his own money—his own two hands.

He hits the butt of the tool with the palm of his hand once, twice, three times, and then he twists, biting his lip, shoving it in further, hitting it again and then the door swings open.

He stands, pocketing the knife, picking up the bag, and finds you sitting on the other side below a closed window, back against the wall, arms crossed, legs outstretched, and by the look on your face, he can tell you're not pleased with him.

He gives a small smile, holding the bag up. "Brought you something to eat." He hopes it will now serve to warm you to him even just a bit, given what he'd just done to your new hiding place.

You continue to stare at him for a moment, before narrowing your eyes. "Has no one ever taught you the meaning of a locked door, or do you just not know how to take a hint?"

He smirks, shrugging one shoulder lightly before crouching down and settling himself beside you, back pressed firmly to the wall as he opens the bag, pulling out a cheeseburger. He holds it toward you.

Your hands remain in your lap, resting atop an open book as you merely glance to him. "I'm not eating that."

He frowns. "I got it for you."

You can't imagine why. What was this guy's problem, anyway? The fact he had apparently been watching you for two weeks had already set you on-edge. But this? He'd busted the damn lock just to get to you. Who knew what was in that burger.

You grab your novel, picking up where you'd left off as soon as you heard boots heading up the stairs again, just like yesterday.

That had certainly scared the living daylights out of you. If only you'd initially bothered hiding in the room with the window—the one also with a lock on the door—that you'd finally climbed out of. Then he most likely would've left this place and never come back.

Ruined. Now everything was ruined because this creep wanted a piece of jailbait. Not like he's the first.

He sighs, unwrapping it, suddenly understanding why you refuse to eat it. He takes a bite, chewing, swallowing, and then he holds it to you again. "There's nothing in it, if that's what you're-"

"I'm not eating after a stranger."

He pulls out the second burger, offering it to you.

You don't bother even looking at him as you turn a page, saying, "Maybe that one is drugged, and this was all a ruse to get me to take it instead."

He sets his hand in his lap, leaning his head back against the wall, but still looking at you. "If I wanted to have my way with you, I'd already have you on your back, y'know?"

You side-eye him at that comment, before returning to your book. "Think awful highly of yourself."

He smirks. "I think you know what I'm referring to."

A beat of silence, then, "That's creepy. What are you, anyway? Thirty? I'm seventeen, you know."

He scoffs. "Thirty? Knock a decade off that, hon'. Well, nine years."

You shrug. "Look old to me."

His lip twitches. Were you ribbing him? He tosses the burger in your lap then and you roll your eyes, leaving it.

He then takes another bite of his, then another. He swallows. "What're you reading?"

"A book."

His lip twitches again as he fights against a smile. You were being curt with him in a desperate attempt at getting him to leave, clearly, but what you didn't know was that being unwanted wasn't a new thing for him.

"Does it have a title?" He pushes his luck further—now, for some reason—wanting to get under your skin. Which he knows is just...wrong, as you'd done nothing to deserve it. Except drive him mad with questions. If not a bit of longing that he'd told himself more than once he didn't really feel. It was imagined. Or, rather, not about you at all.

Maybe he should just hire a hooker, and then he'd feel better. He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous idea.

"Yes."

"Well, do I need to guess it, too?" He asks, taking another bite.

You shrug, turning another page. "If that'll make you happy, Willy."

"Billy."

You finally look at him, then, and his heart jumps when your lovely eyes meet his own. "Hm?"

"My name. It's not Willy. I mean, William is technically right, but no one calls me that. Billy."

You study him for a moment. "Uh-huh."

He smirks. You were entertaining, if nothing else. God, he wants to fucking touch you.

"You really going to let it go to waste?"

"I never asked you to bring me food." You turn back to your book. "Or come back here in general. Incase it isn't obvious, as it seems most things must not to be to you: I come here to be alone. Your presence is sort of defeating that purpose."

You were such a smartass.

"Just thought you might be lonely. Thought that maybe my thrilling company would be preferable to-"

"It's not."

You stop reading then, only pretending to. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, for whatever reason. Maybe...maybe he was lonely, too. But if he wanted back in your good graces, he was going to be replacing the lock.

You shouldn't feel guilty for your shortness with him. You'd not asked—or, much more, invited—him here. He'd just given himself permission to intrude on what you'd eventually come to consider your domain. Your place of peace.

You sigh, shutting the book, picking up the burger.

He smiles as he watches you take a bite, and then another. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

You swallow, looking at him.

"How'd you even find this place?"

"Walking." You take another bite.

"You don't...live here, right?"

You're silent for a moment, continuing to eat—the burger now halfway gone. "No. But if you even want to attempt at getting on my good side, you'll be replacing the lock."

He turns the least bit more toward you. "Happily."

You roll your eyes, biting then chewing again.

"Anybody else know about it?"

You shrug. "I've never ran into anyone else here. Until yesterday." You give him a glare and he chuckles.

You speak again. "So, you've been stalking me, huh?"

He blanches. "I haven't."

You glance to the knob, then back to him.

He smirks, looking down, rubbing his thumb into the callused palm of his other hand. "Guess I got a bit carried away, huh?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

"Why do you care in the first place?" You ask, genuinely curious about his...motivations.

"You fascinate me."

You quickly swallow. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Why not? Honestly, for the last couple of weeks, you're all I've been able to think about. For the most part, at least."

You grow quiet at that. You're not sure whether you should blush or balk at such a statement. In all honesty, it makes you feel a tad uncomfortable. All of it does, really.

"Can't find a girl your own age?"

He leans his head back, smirking. "Funny. Now who thinks highly of themselves?"

You cross your ankles. "So, instead of finding a hobby, you develop an infatuation with a random teenage girl, track her down to an abandoned house, and break into the room she's hiding from you in. I shouldn't find that weird? Maybe I should call the police."

Hearing it put like that makes him feel...not well with himself. It makes him sound...he doesn't want to think of what it makes him sound like. He's not...like that. He just wanted answers. That was all.

"You're the one living here, and you call me weird? And with what landline, sweetheart?"

"I told you I don't live here," you quickly shoot back at him, not replying to his comment about the non-existent phone.

"Ok, spend spare time here, then."

"You're avoiding what I said," you reply, burger now nearly finished.

He stares straight ahead, out the now-open doorway. He'd have a stop to make after work tomorrow now. Well, an extra one. "I don't have many friends, incase you can't tell by now. Well, none, really. Not anymore."

Quite a pair, you muse, taking your last bite.

He continues. "I'm not saying that's what I came here to find. I just..." He sighs, leaning his head back, shutting his eyes, utterly fucking exhausted. Not even he knows what the damn hell he's doing here. "Couldn't let it go, I guess. I wanted to meet you. Don't ask me why, because your guess is as good as mine."

He feels something bounce off his face then, and when he opens his eyes, the silver wrapper from your burger is now resting in his lap.

He looks at you with a raised brow.

You have a small smile on your lips, and you look at him for only a moment before picking your book back up again.

"You live in town?" He asks.

"I don't know, do I?"

He rolls his eyes. "I haven't followed you anywhere but here."

"Where do you live?"

He crosses his arms. "Outskirts of town."

"Why not in it?"

He becomes quiet then and you can tell there's something there to be discovered.

"Just don't like living on top of everybody else."

You hum your response, not really buying that answer.

He speaks again. "You still live at home?"

"I'm seventeen, so what do you think?." You turn a page.

He shakes his head. "So, you go to Hawkins High?"

"Mhm."

"Me too. Well, did. Graduated four years ago." He looks at you. "You like going to school?"

You shrug. "I don't much care either way. I'd rather be here, but..."

"Why not spend your time at home instead?"

"You sure do have a lot of questions."

"Plenty more where that came from. Never did answer." And he truly means it.

You sigh, shutting your book once more. "You're making it very hard to concentrate."

He nearly makes a flirtatious comment at that. It was only four years between the two of you. Occasionally, he still felt your age. Sometimes, however, he felt twice his own. He refrains. "I'll leave you to your reading soon enough. I only have a few dozen questions."

You blink at him.

"That's not sarcasm, by the way," he states.

"I promise I'm not nearly as interesting as whatever story, or version of me that you've come up with inside your head."

He waves a hand. "That's to be determined."

You turn more toward him then with an interested look.

He smiles. "I didn't really come up with a story about you, exactly. Just about what might be out here. Maybe you were camping, or swimming, or climbing a treehouse everyday."

"Well, you're at least somewhat right."

He raises a brow. "Oh?"

"There's a swimming hole not far from here."

He nods for a moment, then, "Should we go?"

You snort, standing. "So the strange man can drown me with no witnesses? Not likely."

You exit the room then and he quickly stands as well, following after you. "Where're you-" He's cut short by the sight of you disappearing around a corner, heading downstairs.

His boots thump loudly against each step as he tries to catch up to you. "Hey!" He groans as he reaches the first floor, turning toward the back of the house, watching as you exit through the rear screen door.

"The fuck am I doing," he mutters, following you outside.

He finds you seated on a porch swing that's missing a couple pieces of wood, the white paint nearly gone.

You stare up at him, watching as he positions his hands on his hips, only glancing momentarily to his partially unbuttoned shirt. You slip off your sneakers, crossing your legs before you as you begin to lightly swing yourself.

He looks off into the distance and sees the place is surrounded by yet more tall grass, but there's also a few apple trees. Surprising, he thinks.

He walks out, you watching him, as he pulls two ripe green apples from branches, heading back in your direction.

He sits, placing one on the banister behind the two of you before retrieving his pocket knife and slicing off a piece, handing it to you.

Gingerly, you take it from him, your fingertips brushing against his own, sending a jolt of excitement through him. Good lord, it'd truly been a long time, hadn't it? Since he had any form of female attention. Other than occasionally being ogled at the shop by women standing next to their soft-handed, clueless, accountant husbands.

You chew slowly, studying him.

And he just stares back at you doing the same. Only difference is, you don't seem bothered by the eye-contact. Four years ago, he would've known exactly what to do with you. Now? Not so much.

"Anything you want to ask me?" He says, eager to break the silence.

You consider for a moment, him now lightly rocking the both of you, pushing against the wooden floorboards of the back porch with his boots.

“Your accent—you’re not originally from here, are you?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “No. My old man moved us here when I was seventeen. From California.”

Long ways, city boy, you think. “Where is he now?”

He slices off another piece, popping it in his mouth, and then another one for you. He shrugs. “Still living in town. I run into him every now and again after work.”

There’s a story there. “Do you not get along?”

He’s silent again, slicing off another piece and then another. He has no idea why he chooses to divulge it to you, but if he wants you to trust him—to continue giving him answers as well—he has to give you something in return. “We never have. He used to smack my mom around. Until she left. Then it was just me, and I started getting the brunt of it. He remarried. Got a new step-daughter, which became my fuckin’ problem to look after. Once I was eighteen and out of school, he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

You see the pain of it in his eyes, this truth he’s shared. You weren’t used to such honesty, because honest people were not the types you typically kept company with. By any means.

He looks at you again, handing you another slice.

You take it, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. 

“What about you?”

You stare at him for just a moment, wondering if you were really about to do this. Tell him this most dark, hidden truth about your life. One that…if it reached the wrong people—cops that weren’t already in the ‘right’ pockets—it could mean the end. For many. Not that you’d shed a tear to watch a single one of them fall. At least that way, they’d never touch you again. Ever.

“What do you do for a living?”

He frowns. “I asked you a question fir-”

“And if you want me to answer it, you’ll tell me what I’ve asked.”

His brows furrow. “I’m a mechanic.”

You sit forward then, holding out your hands. “Give me your hands, then.”

His confusion only grows. “What?”

“If you’re a mechanic, it means you work with your hands all day. They should be rough—callused. Otherwise, I’m going to assume you’re lying. Maybe you’re a cop. Maybe that’s why you’ve been watching me. Maybe you think you know something. So, you either give me your hands, or I leave, and this conversation is permanently over.”

He suddenly wonders just who the hell he’s talking to. What it is that you’re involved in, exactly.

He gives you his hands, and you turn them onto their palms. Callused most certainly, dirt—perhaps oil—seeped into the cracks, even. Rough like sandpaper. A familiar sensation that you’ve felt across every inch of you and then some.

You glance up to him, squeezing them tighter. “Are you a cop?” You ask with a raised brow, almost certain he isn’t. 

“Do I look like a cop?”

You continue to stare.

He sighs. “No, I’m not a fuckin’ cop.”

You let him go then, leaning back, crossing your arms. “My dad and I…we keep our distance from one another. I do as I’m told when he does occasionally tell me to do something—mostly helping him with the…family business, or household chores, and in return, I can do as I please without him bothering me.”

He takes one of your feet into his lap then, gently tugging your sock off, laying it to the side and massaging your sole. “And what is the ‘family business’, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You’d not been expecting the tender gesture on his part. But, you spent a lot of time walking. For various reasons. So, your feet aching was a regular occurrence. 

This was nice of him to do. Or perhaps he had other motives. Not that you'd be surprised. Men always did. Especially with you.

You’d not told this truth to anyone. And you’d known this man for perhaps an hour and you were ready to tell him this? Maybe you truly were a stupid girl. You’d heard as much a time or two.

“He’s a dealer. Meth, mostly.”

His hands falter. “And you help him by…?”

You shrug, reaching for the extra apple, taking a bite. “Like I said, doing as I’m told. That’s all you get for today. In regards to that question, at least. That subject.”

“And where is your mom in all of this?”

Another shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Where the damn hell had you come from? You seemed intelligent enough. Too much for your own good—or, perhaps, just enough. You did not come off as the daughter of a drug dealer.

He just looks at you, and you at him. His gaze softens. “You come here to get away from it. Does he make it in the house?”

You shake your head. “There’s a shed. Not that he doesn’t sometimes do it in the house, but it’s not often. That much he bothers with trying to keep away from me. He’s stressed time and again that he wants me to stay away from it, even if I’m surrounded by it…”

Your tone has grown quiet now, even perhaps a bit sad. 

You’re no longer looking at him.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think to offer, and he knows it falls woefully short of what you deserve to hear.

You take another bite, a small one. “Me too.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes, hand resting atop your ankle. “Just when I thought this shithole couldn’t get any worse.”

“You asked.”

His lip twitches. “I guess the only difference now is that I know.”

You notice the swing has stopped rocking. “Been here the whole time.”

“I guess so.”

After a handful of minutes, he begins to snore softly, and you know it’s time to go. You gently remove your foot from his lap, then reach over, retrieving your sock, and slipping it back on, then your sneakers.

You walk over, shrugging on your backpack, and then you stop and stare at him for just a moment.

He truly was very…pretty. For a man, that is. The types you were often around were typically more on the rugged or rough side. Handsome could be the adjective used to describe one or two. Pretty, however? Never. 

Long, dark lashes, full lips, bright eyes—when they’re open, that is—a sharp jawline, and dark stubble, hard planes across his abdomen; what you can see of it, at least. He almost looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. Perhaps Popular Mechanic, you think with a smirk. 

You step over to him, then lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. And then you consider for a moment, before brushing another over his lips before pulling back, whispering ‘see ya’, before heading out. 

When Billy wakes again, it’s not quite an hour later, and when he looks to the side of him, you’re gone, an apple core sitting in the spot you’d previously occupied. 

He rises, stretching, then heading inside, calling for you. To no avail. 

He heads upstairs, and finds every room and closet empty. So he heads back down, exiting the house, knowing: he’ll see you tomorrow—his mystery girl.

[zer0brainc3lls]

Flare ups

masterlist

Story summary: It’s been a year since Newt got the cure but since he was so past the gone he still deals with unnecessary “flare ups” of rage/paranoia and sometimes auditory hallucinations. Newt is sick and this triggers him, Thomas saves the day

TWS: auditory hallucinations

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word count: 1.2k

It has been a year since Newt felt the stabbing pain of the needle of the cure in his arm, but that cure couldn’t repair all the damage done by the flare. Newt is forever stuck with periods of what he calls “flare ups” where he experiences extreme paranoia and bursts of anger, and in really bad flare ups auditory hallucinations.

He has never been sick during a flare up though.

Well until tonight that is.

Earlier on in the morning, Newt had picked some apples to munch on from his garden not realizing they were off until after he had eaten half, that paired with an already bad case of the flu he wasn’t handling it well. At all.

Newt is flat on his back in a surprisingly sturdy cot with Thomas sleeping soundly next to him, Newt's eyes burn holes into the ceiling as his mind swirls with unwelcome thoughts and memories. The night blanketing the room in darkness except for a candle lit on Newt’s bedside table, his gut clench’s angrily at any movement he attempts to make. he clenches his jaw as an unnecessary wave of anger coats his skin like hot wax, urging him to move, kick, scream, do something! Anything! Newt fights the unwelcome urges and shuts his eyes tightly.

“Just leave me”

His own voice travels through one ear and out the other, the sound shocks him causing him to shoot up into a sitting position. His mouth fills with saliva, he swings his legs off the cot and bolts to the bathroom that was thankfully recently attached to his and Thomas’s hut. He throws the bathroom door open and slams his hand against the wall, his fingers fumbling around for a moment for the light switch. The light blinds him as he stumbles to the toilet, flinging open the toilet lid the moment before he begins to puke his guts up. Whatever the hell he ate through the day all coming back up along with stomach acid that burns his throat and chest, rage along with it. A cold icy blanket of anxiety clutches his body refusing to let him go, all at once the vomit must be black. Would he have black veins to match?

“Guess I can’t hide this anymore”

His chest shakes as he gasps between gags, his messy and very much in need of a trim hair covers his eyes. memories flash behind his eyes everytime he clenches them shut, and even when he does force himself to keep his eyes open his ears pull him right back to the past. His eyes water as he vomits.

“THERE IS NO GODDAMN CURE”

Newt doesn’t hear Thomas’s quick footsteps towards the bathroom door.

“I’m sorry Tommy, I’m sorry.”

“Babe? Are you ok?” Thomas asks.

“It’s okay.. it’s okay..”

Thomas gasps once he makes it to the bathroom doorway, he takes all of two steps and kneels beside Newt.

“Please Tommy please”

Newt registers Thomas is there once he feels a calloused hand push his hair back, Newt shutters at the touch as he coughs up the last bits of stomach acid that leaves his mouth. His breaths are short and fast, like hiccups almost as he pushes himself away from the toilet bowl and up against the wall. Newt now notices his vision is blurred with tears that stream down his face, his cheeks and eyes red and puffy as he tries to stop the tears. Newt pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around himself, keeping himself as far away from Thomas as possible. Fear and uncontrollable anger sets his whole body on fire, not towards Thomas but himself. What if Thomas touches him and he goes full crank again? What if he tries to choke him again? Thomas begins to move closer before Newt chokes out between quiet uncontrollable sobs,

“Don’t. Go. .. Please.”

Thomas stops moving, stunned to silence. He sits crossed legged slightly to Newt’s left in front of him, he goes to open his mouth in protest before quickly closing it. I don’t want to crank out! Newt wanted to say.

“You won’t.” Thomas objects.. to what?

“Huh?” Newt questions.

“You won’t crank out?” He replies, almost questioning Newt's questioning. Did he say that out loud? Newt doesn’t want to be left alone, truth be told, but he would rather be alone than Thomas be left alone with him in this state. “Your cured Newt.” - Thomas slowly goes to place his hand on Newt's arm, raising his eyebrows in question. Newt doesn’t flinch away this time, Thomas gently holds the front of Newt's forearm that’s wrapped around his legs. Using his thumbs to glide back and forth across Newt’s skin in a soothing motion. - “you're cured.” He repeats, almost at a whisper. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s attempting to convince Newt.

Thomas pulls his eyes away from his hand and looks up at Newt, his hand glides towards Newt's hand, his hand never leaving his skin as he does so. Thomas takes Newt's slender hand in his own clasping tightly, Thomas breathes in deeply, his chest rising more than necessary, gesturing for Newt to follow. Newt drops his knees from his chest and matches Thomas’s crossed legs, clutching onto Thomas’s hand as they breath in sync.

Newts heart rate slowly drops down, 2 of Thomas’s fingers from the hand that isn’t holding Newts pressed against his wrist, their own way of checking on each other. When Newt's heart finally comes down to its normal rate he lets out a shaky breath, the spew in his mouth all of a sudden gains taste. He scrunches his face in disgust and Thomas chuckles at his reaction, “there he is! Cmon up you get!” Thomas takes his free hand away from Newt's wrist and grasps Newt's free hand and pulls them both to their feet. Thomas lets go of one of Newt's hands to flick the toilet seat down and flush away what used to be Newt's dinner, before turning back to him and poking him in the chest with his free index finger. “You, brush your teeth I’ll get you tea.”

Newt knows he doesn’t need to ask, and exactly how Thomas is going to respond but with a cheeky grin he says “with lemon and honey?” His voice scratchy, pain searing slightly as he speaks. “Who do you take me for Newton? Yes I’m going to put lemon and honey in your shucking tea.” Thomas’s eyes furrow as if he’s offended, his goofy grin giving away his true emotions. Newt snorts loudly before hissing at pain, this time the pain in his throat unbearable. “Teeth. Tea. Bed.” Thomas pokes Newt's chest between words, attempting to lace his voice with stubbornness but care seeping through instead. Thomas pauses for a moment before tilting his head upwards, leaning on his toes slightly to kiss him on the cheek. The warm peck lingering long after he plants his heels back on the ground, Newt grins as he falls back onto his heels, looking down slightly to make direct eye contact with him. “Shush! Teeth!” Thomas exclaims before leaving the room, Newt attempting not to laugh so as to not make the pain in his throat worse.

~

Authors note!!: I meant what I said in that headcanon post!! And here it is ladies, gents and fair people of the land!! I know nothing about hallucinations so polite criticism is encouraged!! I wrote this during a 6-7 hour bus drive with a bunch of kids from my school I absolutely hate while trying to be left alone so sorry if this isn’t my best work :( yall may be gifted with a lil Drabble… perchance…. Maybe….. I haven’t forgotten about my other stuff I’m just super duper distracted sorry guys ALSO HOW DO YOU GUYS MAKE SUCH GOOD MOOD BOARDS WTH??? 😭 THE ONE I MADE IS SO BAD I DEEPLY APOLOGISE. I used ibisPaint x idk if that’s any good for moodboards, recs for apps would be appreciated ☹️🫶

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Hiiii, Cyprus ❤️ Did you like my surprise? I trashed your apartment since you never seem to leave mine! I'm not mean like you though, so I left all the pieces of your now broken phone at the bottom of this note. Also I pissed all over your mattress <3 You cant keep fucking with me and expect me to take it, right? Anyways, suck a fat one and see you at work on Monday, babygirl!!

[Author's note: Cyprus doesn't like going to your apartment. He prefers it if you stay at his, hence the stealing and manipulating to get you to come over to his place. Canonically, he wouldn't leave you alone at his place either.]

Tw: afab reader, cyprus being a dick

Your heart was pumping when you arrived at the office on Monday. Ready for a confrontation with Cyprus. All the worst-case scenarios ran through your mind and you hoped he would lash out at you publicly, getting himself fired in the process.

Only to find out that he isn't coming in today, he pulled one of his emergency leaves. The office was asking you what happened to him since it was already established very well that you're his girl. You said you had no idea, which made them probe you even more. As they didn't believe you.

That was... Anti-climatic. You're somewhat relieved yet tensed because you know something is about to happen yet you don't know when or what. You're not receiving any calls, or text messages from him either (as expected, you mangled his phone), not even an email that he could have sent through his laptop.

The workday went by uneventfully, save for your nosy coworkers pestering you for more details about Cyprus's absence during lunch and punch-out time. To your surprise and many of your colleagues too, Cyprus wasn't there to pick you up, you truly had no idea what had happened to him. It was complete radio silence from the hothead. Very uncharacteristic of him, you thought he would fly off the handles at your offences.

Maybe he gave up. You're too much trouble than what you're worth.

You grinned, thinking that you're one step closer to freedom from that man, you will have to figure out how to deal with the animosity that will inevitably arrive when he comes back to work. You knew Cyprus was vengeful, he's going to do something to fuck up your career as revenge.

You said your goodbyes to your coworkers as you head back home. The trip was also nothing out of the ordinary, it's just like how it was before accidentally snaring Cyprus's fiery heart.

However, when you arrived back to your apartment, your landlord, a few other tenants, a group of cleaners and a pair of plumbers coming in and out of the lobby was waiting there for you.

You asked what was going on.

The tenants seems distressed, they were too busy chatting amongst themselves or on phone calls. The only person who's willing to fill you in is your landlord, who doesn't look too thrilled to see you either.

He said he would want to talk to you outside. You obliged and follow him to the entrance, where the both of you are illuminated by the door lights and street lamps.

"There was a clog that caused the toilets in a handful of units to flood." He said.

You were worried, thinking that you're one of the affected too. You asked if you could check your room out too, but your landlord only stopped you there.

"We are doing what we can to settle the situation. However, I must talk to you about the cause of it." He pulled his phone out and opened his photo galleries.

"It came from your apartment. You flushed something down that you weren't supposed to." Your eyes landed on a picture, showing you a rusted, dirty water pipe, gaping on one end and what seemed like a soaked, crumpled period pad. You don't think it was even originally used, you're not even on your period. How did it-

"I will be charging your account for the repairs." Your landlord told you.

You tried defending yourself, saying that you didn't do it. You accused Cyprus of trespassing and causing the clog because you and he had a "fight".

He shook his head. "I wanted to believe that too, because I never expected you to be this reckless. I checked the surveillance cameras, no one entered your room other than yourself."

You tried to desperately fight your case, you do not want to pay for damages you didn't do! You knew Cyprus is behind this somehow, but you couldn't prove it. Frustrating as it is, you couldn't do anything except to bite the bullet.

Your landlord excused himself to handle the situation at hand, leaving you alone to think about what had happened alone. Outside, with the darkness surrounding you.

You sighed and frowned. Maybe you should call your mom, dad, sibling or online friend to rant about your day. You were too immersed in your thoughts and misery that you didn't realize a certain sedan car has been circling around the block a few times now. Still, not aware of your surroundings, you pulled your phone out.

But you got distracted by the icon of your favourite social media application. You ended up launching that instead of calling someone for advice or help. You had to pacify yourself and what better way than to use mind-numbing brain junkfood?

However, during mid-scroll, your precious device was yanked away from your hands by none other than Cyprus.

But before you can even inhale a complete gasp, the deafening sounds of your lifeline shattering reached your ears first. Followed by successive crunching of your already abused phone under his heavy, combat boots.

You stared at it slack jaw as he continued grinding his heel against the pieces out of pure spite.

"I read your little note." He gruffed, continuing to destroy whatever is left of your gadget. "I was fucking pissed." He continued, glaring at you as he fits in a couple more stomps.

"But now, we're even." He pulled something out from his pocket and pelted it at you. It isn't heavy, you thought he threw the crumpled note itself at you since it looked thin, paper like and light.

Only when you took a closer look, your face paled in horror.

It's an empty menstrual pad wrapper.

"Come on, princess." He clamped his hand around your wrist, dragging you along with him. "We're going out for dinner. I don't feel like cooking today."

You wrenched your hand away from him and said you didn't want to see him. He disregarded that with a click of the tongue and a roll of the eyes.

"You know, you really can be a handful sometimes." He grabbed your hand again. "I'm not mad anymore, okay? You learned your lesson; I won't be fucking your shit up as long as you leave mine alone. I'll be paying for the damages and I'll get you a new phone after dinner. Now, let's go. I'm hungry and I bet you are too."

You still resisted him, planting your feet firmly on the ground and trying to tug your hand away from his iron grip. You said you're tired, you just want to be in your room.

He scoffed. "Trust me, you do not want to go in there. I took everything important, you should have no problem staying over at my place. The sheets are freshly washed and I deep cleaned my mattress just for my angel girl who could do no wrong." Heavy sarcasm was dripping from his words at the end of his sentence.

You still put up a fight, which thinned his patience.

A yelp escaped your lips when he suddenly groped your ass. His grip was firm, a bit too firm that it hurts a bit. Wincing, you unintentionally loosened your posture, allowing Cyprus to whisk you off your feet and draped you over his shoulder. You made a fuss, kicking and hitting him but he was like a mountain made of steel and concrete- nothing fazes him.

"Stop squirming, you fucking brat. Or I'll bite you." He growled, walking towards his car and tightening his hold on your legs, you're trying your best to kick him in the head. It was already hard having your upper body dangle off his back shoulder.

Of course, feeling the sting of humiliation, you didn't stop. You kept struggling against the much stronger man, hoping that he would either give up or drop you.

But to your surprise, you felt a sharp pressure on the side of your ass cheek. Shouting in pain, you realized that Cyprus held his word and sunk his teeth into your soft flesh. That was effective in stunning you in place, the scream dying down in your throat and you ceased your flailing.

"I warned you, pretty girl." He unlocked his car door with his key fob. You sighed, this is going to be a long week.

[mochi-owos]

Meeting genshin men at your local grocery store?!

Childe, Itto, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Ayato x Reader

To be honest, the job itself wasn’t too bad. Pretty normal actually. Aside from the few weirdos that have been walking in lately..

Inspired by @abyssruler’s 7/11 Diaries! (One again written in the depths of night, so I apologize for the errors and tbh it’s kinda bad 😰)

Childe:

You could do this! Self belief! Stay awake! Your shift was almost done, 2am on the clock and two more hours to go. Everything was pretty mundane, occasionally mopping the floor, checking the stock, handling the (basically unused) register— all mundane with the lack of people. But today a real odd ball walked in: ginger hair, roughed clothing, tussled hair, and oh- the massive nose bleed dripping down onto his clothes.

He walks through the store so calmly - it’s almost startlingly - he strolls through the isles putting random items, then walks up to the counter. He grins, "Well hello there, I didn’t know such a pretty thing would be working at a time like this." He says, all while blood is still dripping down his nose.

You blink once, you blink twice, you take the basket and start scanning, "It’s too early in the morning for this.." You mumble, tired eyes fumbling with the unreasonably items. The prices of each individual item would send you into cardiac arrest, but all in all? Fucking nuts. How does he even have money? Have you seen the economics state of the world?

Your words only make him laugh, as you look up at him your gaze fuses on his bloody nose, "You’re bleeding."

"I know." He smiles.

"O," You blink slowly once more. "Want a tissues or something?”

He raises a brow, "Ha! You’re pretty funny, you know! Most workers get scared!" He laughs, watching intently as you pack away his items handing them to him.

You look him in the eyes, "I don’t get paid enough."

From that day since he’d often come to the store chatting with you, all while buying odd products. At this point you were starting to think it’s all to speak with you, I mean— Instant rice and pickles? You raised a brow, almost like a mind reader he spoke,

"My friend dropped his phone in the toilet so we’re doing the rice method, and the pickles is for me, nice snack."

Isn’t the rice method supposed to be bad? “Why don’t you just go to a repair shop?"

"Hes quirky like that."

"Just leave."

At some point you started seeing him outside the shop, he also goes to the same university as you. Which did make sense seeing at though he looked your age, but what surprised you the most is that he’s pretty well know. So now you started to wonder how you hadn’t heard about him. Maybe it’s because you have no friends— that’s a problem. You’ll need some of those.. you guess. Now that you think about it, you never got his name. How odd.

Itto:

It was very much valid for you to assume that the man before you was drunk. He was awfully loud (so much so you could hear him from five blocks down), he talked funny, and so did he act the same.

As you tiredly rub your eyes you to try shake yourself awake, there was still so much time until work was over. And with the shouting going on outside it was actually quite easy, most would be worried of a murder being what’s taking place outside but it was awfully normal for such screams, also the sound of drunk laughter easily disproves the thought of murder. A man -easily 7ft tall, White hair, super buff, his hair oddly whisked - trudges in, panic written all over his face. "WHERE IS YOUR RICE?" He asked anxiously.

"Excuse me?"

"I NEED RICE FOR MY PHONE." He jumped around in place, you point him towards the section and he runs off, few of his friends snicker while some look worried.

You wait around at the counter, it takes him a few minutes to gather what he needs, next time he comeback he has at least four small bags of rice and bandages. As you ring him up you hear the man speak with his friends,

"Do you think it’ll work?" One of his friends ask.

"I think so! I got the premium rice, and I think the bandages will work too!" He smiles.

"For.. your phone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing.." his friends mumble, stifling a laugh.

You simply shake your head at such idiocy, but then again you can understand, repair shops are unbelievably expensive and half the time it gets even more broken. But your action seems to have caught the man’s attention, gawking he turns to his friends, “THEYRE SO HOT.”

From that day forward he constantly visited the shop, goofing around in the store in attempts to get your number.

"So, you like jazz?" He has this odd smirk on his face, almost as if that was his attempt to finesse you.

"Yes."

"Ah. You were supposed to say no."

"Sorry?"

Soon, Itto (his name, he had written it on a piece of paper and whilst paying for his newest purchase slipped it in) started being able to spot you on campus, following you around like a lost puppy. Perhaps you’ll slip in your number next time you give him change.. perhaps.

Kaeya:

To Kaeya you were hot, really fucking hot. Though you were kinda invisible that added to your charm, that or he just had a thing for total losers, he couldn’t tell. And for the most part you weren’t entire invisible, often seeing your name on the first board after grades come out, or even seeing you enrolled in competitions, or he’d see you studying in the library - looking so adorable- writing away at your notes. He thought you were utterly ethereal, and the need to get to know you was insatiable. His friends quite literally needing to hold him down from running up to you and scaring you away. So come to find out lovely ol’ you works at one of his favourite convince place he already had a plan brewing.

You drearily watch the clock, your body feeling as if it's numb. Your hands lazily drawing circles on the counter, starting to regret the fact you decided to work the graveyard shift. The ringing of the store bell waking you from your hazziness, a man dressed nicely came in: blue hair, blue eyes (odd combo, to be completely honest), dressed in what looked like ballroom clothing, his expression of.. smugness? Unyielding.

As you wait to ring him up you take out your phone and start scrolling through it, but soon you here light steps approaching placing your phone back in your pocket and take the items and start scanning. All as you do so the man watches you intently, and little too much.

”Can I help you with something, Sir?"

He raises a brow, "Sir? You don't think I'm that old, do you?!" He cried.

"No, Sir. I'm required to do this."

"So you think I look nice?"

"Sure."

"Would you go out with me?" Was that really his attempt at rizzing you up?

"Please just take your items and leave, Sir." (I'm saving you the embarrassment -and myjob-)

He couldn't stand it, no, he was determined-- he will rizz you up. You have to give him a chance! And so whenever you had a free moment you would see him walk up to you, it’s not that you minded his unbreaking tenacity, it was quite admirable actually.

"Hey!" He ran up to you, waving his hand. He stops in front of you weaving, "Trying to run away from me?"

"No. I’m hungry."

"Ah! The allow me to do the pleasure and buy you lunch."

"If you have money, sure.”

You were oh so happy, free food truly did taste the best. So while he got to know you you got full - and happy - tummy. Maybe you’ll actually let him take you out.

Al Haitham:

See, typically you were fine with customers, but this time you were utterly enthralled by this.. this asshole with a stick up his ass. You’d love to hop over the counter and give him a wack, but you refrain from doing so— he looked rich, and he was buff, you most definitely could not take him in a fight.

"It’s 14.55."

"I’m aware."

"I am in a rush, please let me pay already."

"Im sorry, Sir. I’m required to ring this all up."

"But I already told you, it’s 14.55." His eyes looked a bit agitated, his arms crossed.

"Sir, I am just doing my job."

"K."

To be honest, you didn’t really know what was coming out of his mouth after that, nor did you care, you simply nod, most of the “conversation” you looked at his.. uh, breast(s) pocket. You’d never see him again, what’s the harm?

You were wrong, so undeniably, unbelievably, wrong. Exactly 5 hours later you’d see him at the gym, staring at you, approaching you- wait, approaching you?? You look around the room, what do you do? How do you seem like you’re busy? Pull out you pho-?!

"Hey."

"Hello..? Do you need something?"

"Do you need help?"

"No."

"I’m helping you anyway."

"O."

And workout buddies you came to be, often meeting him during your workout sessions. You never really needed his help, but with his insistence you agreed. Sometimes even studying together.

"Are you stupid?"

"I think so, I’ve been talking with my doctor lately and-"

"I didn’t mean it literally."

"Ah."

With exams coming up you’ve been seeing each other a lot more, and the study areas have been a lot more.. romantic? Close, cool mood lighting, cold- sometimes even his own house. But then again, maybe it’s just you.

Ayato:

This was absolutely fucking nuts. This guy was decked out— SO BAD. The Ayato Kamisato, one of the richest bachelors was before you, you couldn’t help but be a bad bit taken back. But regardless you tried your best to scan all his odd items.

For a hot bachelor his grocery items were really weird, and so fucking expensive you felt your heart clench.. you’ll need a break after this, maybe even a smoke (you’ve never smoked in your life and if you were to you were pretty sure you’d have an asthma attack).

His gaze wondered you curiously, has you handed him his groceries he smiled, leaving a.. 100$ TIP?? WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DOES HE GET THIS MONEY? I THOUGHT WE WERE IN A RESCISSION. WHAT. Your eyes were massive, looking back up at him, "Uhm, Sir. I think you misplaced this bill.." as much as you wanted to keep it, you had morals (sadly), holding yourself to high principle.

"Oh, that was no mistake. I appreciate the fact someone like you is working at such an hour. Have a lovely morning." He waved and left.. someone like me? Is that an insult? Does he think I’m poor?

As you pondered what he meant you started seeing him more, and more. Always leaving a massive tip, does god.. love me? Your reactions always brining a smile to his face, and conversations with you always left him with a swelling in his chest, you were awfully funny.

"Here, a tip."

"Am I.. in more debt?" You tilt your head, "Do you want something from me?" Your eyes widen, "Is this perhaps your way of buying me? Is that what rich people do..? That’s what’s I heard.." mumbling the last part you look into the floor, bringing your hand up to fumble with your lip- in deep concentration.

He was so weird, people said he was cool. From what you can tell all he is a weirdo. Who tips this much? Who buys this much weird stuff? Isn’t he rich? Why doesn't he just get someone to get him groceries? Why does he look at you weird? Honestly, if he kept giving you this much money you might as well become his sugar baby (not that you would mind).

[plumberswoodlandstx]

Plumbers The Woodlands

(832) 810-5955

Plumbers The Woodlands provides expert plumbing services across The Woodlands, TX, including zip codes 77380, 77381, 77382, and 77384. Our licensed team handles everything from leaks and clogs to complex repairs and installations. We focus on quality, transparency, and customer satisfaction, ensuring reliable solutions for both residential and commercial needs. For dependable, efficient plumbing, trust us to keep your systems running smoothly.

Offers:

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Services:

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About:

Business Name: Plumbers The Woodlands

Phone: (832) 810-5955

Address: 1800 Lake Woodlands Dr, The Woodlands, TX 77380

Website:

Working Hours:

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[firespirited]

everywhere but here, I am the mom.

not the 'mom friend', not fun aunt or godmother, the big sister type you go to when you're at the end of your tether and you need a mom to clean up something nasty, kill a spider, unload on someone who can handle it and not make it about them, help you pull the trigger on a hard decision you've already taken but haven't accepted. I make things happen, I connect people, I do mediation and emotional prep; I tell people their full options and help them weigh it all up. You were pondering it for a while but you left here with a lawyer's appointment and a loan we both know is a 'pay it forward' gift. I carry the secrets and the bad memories so it makes sense you move on without me when all's well. The big sister thing means I feel like family and shelter but not really like an everyday friend

Here, I get to be Saffy, bit of a klutz, silly brained with a childlike wonder for creatures and well-designed things who can talk about fear of crowds, slowly healing the relationship with my own mum, I watch horror and post about my dog. That's who I want to be, a large facet of who I am internally buuut life rarely fits the idea we have of ourselves does it?

Part of repairing the imbalanced relationship with mum was letting her do some protective mothering so i can fill the desperate ache to have one person in the world who has my back, while making my support of her more streamlined and unspoken. You know the concept of the toilet paper fairy who makes loo roll appear and always knows when to buy more, that but for groceries, electronics and paperwork, and big decisions we carry together but it has to be very businesslike and unemotional: she's as much a big sweetheart as she is fiercely independent (and ashamed/angry her daughter had to carry half the load). So now she's the one who notices or who I go to when the world has asked me to be The Mom again.

I imagine it's a lot like gay penguins: there's an ecological vacuum of big sister-mom types and some of us just have the vibes.

This winter I've done a metric ton of non-judgmental, non-condescending temporary 'parenting' of women with parents who are gone or who can't handle it and friends who aren't friends-for-that-kinda-thing. I'm really good at it, at weathering a storm for someone and being an anchor. It doesn't hurt any more because mum can be an emotional mum to me.

but I'm never sure how to talk about it here between dolls and shitposts and if i'm not specific... I mean... "chronically ill/special needs person currently or previously in abusive relationship with parent/partner who takes a while to realize and accept abuse isn't just fists but sleep depravation and symptom minimization and all sorts of tiny things that add up to life-threatening injury to the body and mind" applies to many of us dollblr folks as it does like 80% of my social circle offline.

and there's no way of saying that being around some folks is like experiencing a slow motion train wreck without sounding like an asshole.

I am that asshole.

I am goatsed out and want to be a hermit.

Did I tell you guys my doctor vented for 45 minutes about having to put her "dumbass hysterical" sister (deaf and never put in school) into care and the paperwork involved in getting disability (the thing that took me 14 years and she got her sister's transferred in 3 weeks). and I truly empathize but that wasn't very professional and your sister is a person. please.

and I can't cut M out of my life now that her kid is, as predicted, like her (and the facebook-chosen not-yet-divorced deadbeat-dad of 3 special needs kids), an adorable barely verbal two-year-old. She won't be able to navigate special needs care alone but she's still staunchly anti-vax and had a diatribe of ableism mixed with mystical pseudoscience for me, interspersed with thanks for being more family to her than her sister in helping her know how to leave a bad relationship. hokay not making this easy.

S is going to be on the hook for tax evasion if she stays with the shady useless guy she's been babying (and resenting) for 20 years solely because she doesn't like to do activities alone. three times now I've been cornered for the vent sesh. I am sitting on the floor the next time, I need blood in my brain to emote properly. and that unneutered bulldog living in the south is a crime, it can't breathe it can't think, it's all hormones and anxiety covered in fur, of course it's a nuisance around the house.

and there's more but i'm tired of typing and thinking.

[changingplumbob]

Knightstone Household: Chapter 9, Part 4

Pollock: Mummy gift tomorrow

Suzanna: Yeah, it’s Winterfest tomorrow. When you wake up there’ll be a lovely tree and some nice presents for you

Pollock: I excite

Suzanna: Well before that can happen you need to sleep so snuggle down

Suzanna read a book to Pollock until he was snoring. After tucking him in she went over and tucked in Silas to. She was intrigued by human holidays and knew Winterfest should have snow. They never got any in Oasis Springs so she hoped Chestnut Ridge would put on a show.

Before heading to bed Suzanna attended to the various plumbing problems that had sprung up that day. The toilet in the guest bathroom needed fixing and the dishwasher had started playing up. After those she performed an expert repair on the shower she and Adam use.

Adam on the other hand had been working on his debate skills. He was almost at the top of his career but there were a few more things he had to upskill before he could try for a promotion.

Suzanna: Hey you’re human

Adam: Well you wanted to try a traditional Winterfest right? I see you’ve put on your disguise to

Suzanna: Yeah but... I may have been thinking about things other than Winterfest

Adam: Knew it! You’ve been glowing pink for hours

Suzanna: And the watcher put this new mod in and I can feel the heat of a flush in my cheeks, it's so weird

Adam: It looks nice. Do you think it’ll stay

Suzanna: I don’t know, she’s not too sure how the sickness part works but she wants to try

Adam: Man this watcher sounds much less stress than the Sixam aliens. You know I swear I saw a UFO when I activated the satellite this morning

Suzanna: Don’t worry about them. Worry about me

Adam: Care for an early present in bed

Suzanna: *laughing* Smooth, let’s go

During the night the snow started falling and our aliens transformed in to Winterfest Elves!

Of course wanting to properly immerse in the Winterfest spirit Suzanna made the family pose for a holiday photo. Happy Winterfest everyone!

The boys however were excited for gift time, and could hardly pull their eyes off the pile of gifts.

Suzanna: Alright, Adam you go first

Silas: I helped pick it

Adam: Hmm, too small to be a grill

Suzanna: Why would you need a grill in winter

Adam: I heard someone at work say they wanted one for Winterfest. Oh new paints! I’ve been looking for this blue for months but they were out of stock. Where’d you get it

Suzanna: Tell you and outlive my usefulness? I think not

Silas: What’s this

Adam: It’s a composition book. You were asking about writing songs so I thought you might like a place to write any you come up with. Your mum picked the colour

Silas: Thank you Daddy, thank you Mummy! Now Pollock it’s your turn

Pollock: For Pol

Silas: Yep. I went through my toys and I’ve found some you might like now that you can play with more

Pollock: YAY!

As Silas and Pollock discuss toys Adam pulls Suzanna away to give her gift to her.

Adam: Happy Winterfest Starlight

Suzanna: Let me guess. It’s an outfit you want me to wear

Adam: *chuckles* Not this time. I uh... I heard you talking to Shelley about gemology being a new skill? And I know you love to learn so I got you a book, I hope it’s the right one. I figured you’d like to learn a bit before cutting in to you collection

Suzanna: Oh Adam it’s perfect!

Adam: You’re not just saying that because I’m a hot head and could fly off the handle if you don’t like it

Suzanna: Adam, you’re my hot head. Besides, I know you wouldn’t mess with a woman with a simray

Adam: *laughs* I would not

Suzanna: I feel bad I only got you the paint now

Adam: Don’t be. You’re a gift to me, every day. I love you so much they can probably detect it on Sixam

Suzanna: *smiles* I love you right back, always and forever

Suzanna headed out to the garden and was mesmerised by the snow. She knew the watcher had installed a snow override but she hadn’t expected it to be this crisp and clear. It looked beautiful, and she loved seeing defined snowflakes rather than the old clumps. Most of the plants had spawned fruits, flowers and vegetables overnight but a few were still holding on to not growing. Hopefully when she returned to work they would snap out of their funk.

Inside Silas took some time to practice on the piano unobserved while Adam took Pollock to learn to potty. Their guests would be arriving soon and he didn’t want his youngest to miss it.

Previous ... Next

[kissalopa]

Norma woke up really needing to pee, but there was a Sewage Leak!

She handled everything like a pro, and didn't even peed herself 💪

Also I like that there's a new animation for repairing the new toilet that came with EP. And yes, a new peeing animation too 🫣

[anaxibiaclark]

"Son of Bitch!" Was the first thing Steve hears as he enters the Munson household. Inaudible spitting and sputtering follows as he closes the front door behind him.

"Hey, Munson!" Steve calls, as he makes his way down the hall towards Eddie's room.

He still found it shocking that Sam's people gave Wayne a two bedroom home outside of Hawkins as a "sorry your nephew almost got killed by other worldly creatures," in order to keep things on the down low from the public. They were also willing to pay for all of Eddie's medical expenses, which was a blessing, especially since Eddie had numerous surgeries to repair the damage that was done by the Demobats.

As Steve approaches Eddie's bedroom, he can finally make out the cacophony of words that are spilling from the other boy's mouth. Followed by a sharp intake of breath, along with a pained groan, then silence.

"Eddie?" Steve calls again, turning into the doorway. Slight panic catches in his lungs when he spots a trail of blood that leads into the attached bathroom. His strides become more elongated, avoiding the blood.

"You..." Steve stutters out a breath when he sees Eddie sitting on the edge of the tub holding a bloody hand to his left side. "Jesus, Eds. What happened?" Steve asks, crouching in front of Eddie.

"I think I popped a couple of stitches." Eddie says weakly. "I must have moved wrong and the bolster pulled away from the graft."

"Let me see."

Eddie sits up as he moves his hand away from his side.

"Wow," Steve gives a slight grimace. "That is a lot of blood."

"No shit Sherlock." Eddie grits out after another wave of pain hits.

Steve's eyebrows pinch together as he stands.

"Sorry man," Eddie expels a shaky breath. "I'm really exhausted and so fucking uncomfortable right now."

Steve shakes his head. "Don't apologize dude." He takes a look around the bathroom. "Do you have any washcloths lying around that you don't mind getting bloody?"

"Yeah," Eddie answers slowly. "In the linen closet down the hall, top shelf."

Steve squeezes Eddie's shoulder. "I'll grab a couple to get you cleaned up, just sit tight Munson."

"I'll be waiting with baited breath."

"Glad to hear your sarcasm is still intact." Steve sing songs, making his way back to the hall.

-

After a few minutes, Steve returns with washcloths and first aid kit in hand. He parks himself on the toilet seat, placing the first aid kit on the floor. "Will it cause too much pain if you scoot a little closer to me?" Steve asks, pivoting towards the sink to turn on the tap. He places the cloth under the flow of warm water, wringing out the excess.

Steve can hear the swish of sleep shorts, as Eddie slides along the tubs edge. "Woah," he turns just in time to catch Eddie by the arm, before he can topple over. "I got ya." He says, setting the damp cloth back in the sink.

"Thanks," Eddie croaks, doing his best to reposition himself.

"Here," Steve says, placing Eddie's hand on his shoulder. "Hold onto me for balance. Grab my shirt if you have to."

"Don't blame me if your shirt gets ruined."

"A stretched collar is the least of my worries." Steve responds, feeling his collar get a little tighter at the back of his neck. "Uh, so, I'm gonna need you to lift your arm so I can remove the bandage."

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Eddie asks skeptically.

"I watched the nurse change your bandages plenty of times. I think I can handle it." Steve says with confidence.

He studies Eddie's left side, watching as blood slowly soaks into the waistband of his shorts. "Except..."

"Except. What. Harrington?" Annoyance can be heard in Eddie's voice.

"Except, you were comatose the entire time."

Eddie groans. "Do what you gotta do, man. I don't want to go back to the hospital. I'm so done with that place."

"Well, your bandage has soaked through, maybe the removal won't be too bad."

"Just do it." Eddie grits out.

Steve gets an easy grip on the bandage and pulls. He feels Eddie embedding his nails into his shoulder, even after the bandage comes away without snagging skin.

Eddie expels a shuddering breath.

"You doing okay?" Steve asks, discarding the soiled bandage. He then reaches for the dry cloth draped across his thigh.

He watches color return to Eddie's face as he nods. "Didn't hurt like I thought it would."

Steve hummes in response, then presses the cloth firmly to Eddie's bolster applying pressure to stop the bleeding. He can feel Eddie suck in a breath of air.

"Son of a bitch!" Is spat out shakily, then Eddie adds. "Warn a guy before you do something like that.

"Sorry," Steve says sheepishly. "I wanted to stanch the bleeding before it got worse."

"Just," Eddie takes another slow breath. "Be careful will ya."

Silence fills the room for a brief moment. Steve still applying gentle pressure to Eddie's side.

"You know, I've been thinking." Steve says quietly.

"Uh oh," Eddie responds, a small smile gracing his face. "That's not a good sign."

"Shut up, Asshole."

Eddie snickers, then cringes when his laughter causes pain to shoot down his side. "Don't make me laugh, man."

"Then stop being an Asshole."

"But it's so much fun to poke the bear."

"You're just as bad as Henderson." Steve responds with a shake of his head.

"Then, don't make is so easy." Steve can hear the smile in Eddie's voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Companionable silence falls between them again. Steve continuing firm pressure on Eddie's side, which will be for another eight minutes he realizes as he looks down at his watch.

"So?" Eddie breaks the delicate silence between them. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh!" Steve perks up a bit. "A tattoo idea for you," he shrugs. "When all of this heals."

"A tattoo, huh?" Eddie responds voice a little shaky, resting his head on Steve's opposite shoulder.

"Yeah," Steve smiles, looking down at the shaggy crop of hair. "You'll probably think it's cheesy as hell and it definitely wouldn't fit the existing theme, but..."

"You gonna keep me waiting, big boy?" Eddie asks, a slight muffle to his voice. "Or..."

Steve interrupts Eddie before he can continue. "There's this mythological bird that Dustin keeps talking about. The bird's feathers are like fire and it's practically immortal." He notices a slight change in Eddie's breathing, as if it's matching his own rapid heartbeat.

He pauses for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie's head again. "Hey?" He asks quietly. "You okay?"

Eddie nods, his forehead digging into Steve's shoulder. "I'm good, Harrington. You can continue with your description of this bird."

A smile spreads across Steve's face, happy to hear Eddie's still interested. "So, from what I understand, when this bird reaches the end of its life, I guess it bursts into flames and from its own ashes its reborn." Steve pauses for a brief moment. "I think that's how Henderson explained it."

Eddie's quiet, breathing becoming more normal. "Why do you think a Phoenix would be a good fit?" He asks, turning his face towards Steve.

Steve shrugs, feeling Eddie's breath tickling his neck. "You've literally been through hell and back, dude.

Being accused of murder because some Asshole was pissed that a child got the best of him years ago and getting sucked into the bullshit that is the Upside Down." He expels a humorless laugh. "You were dead when we found Dustin cradling your body. I don't know how we managed it, but we got your heart going again and somehow I got your ass through that fucking gate." Steve is on a role now and doesn't stop. "Must have been adrenaline because I carried you to the Winnebago from your trailer and then into the hospital when we arrived."

Steve takes a deep breath. "It took fucking Hopper, coming back from the dead, to clear your damn name and even then you were literally trapped in your own fucking head for weeks. Thank God Eleven got her powers back, who knows what would've happened if Vecna got his claws into you."

Steve shrugs again, watching Eddie's head lift with the motion. "I don't know, man." He continues. "We've all been through some shit, but you and Max have taken the brunt of it this time around."

Eddie still has his head resting on Steve's shoulder. He watches as the other boy's back rises and falls with every breath. "You came back from something that would have broken me." Steve admits, breaking the silence this time. "If that doesn't scream rising from the ashes, then I don't know what does."

Steve watches as Eddie lifts his head, their eyes meet, almost like Eddie is trying to find the lie hidden within. No lie can be found, Steve is certain of that. He's had that damn bird crowding his head for weeks now, ever since Dustin first started spouting facts about it. A Phoenix would be the perfect fit to cover his friend's battle scars.

All thought vanishes from his mind when he feels chapped lips press against his. He makes a surprised sound that lodges in the back of his throat.

Eddie pauses at the sound and slowly pulls away. Panic washes over his face. "Shit, Steve." He says, slightly breathless. "I'm so sorry, man. I..."

Steve grabs Eddie by the nape of the neck and crashes their lips together, deepening the kiss. A pained whimper comes from Eddie as he realizes that he still has firm pressure placed against the bolster attached to Eddie's side.

They both pull away from the kiss at the same time. Steve looks down, relieved to find that fresh blood isn't seeping from the cloth pressed against Eddie's skin.

"Sorry," Steve sighs. "I wasn't thinking straight."

Eddie snorts out a laugh and cringes. "What did I just say, Harrington?"

Steve chuckles, "not what I was aiming for, but-"

A smile spreads across Eddie's face. He leans forward to brush a kiss over soft lips, then rests his forehead against Steve's.

"What now?"

"Well," Eddie draws out the word. "How about you get me patched up first, and then we can talk about what comes next."

"Right," Steve says sheepishly. "Let's get you cleaned up." He presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead before sitting upright again. "Your not bleeding anymore so that's a good sign. I'm gonna go grab a fresh washcloth."

Steve helps Eddie regain his balance on the edge of the tub before standing. He looks around the bathroom frantically trying to remember where he grabbed the washcloths from before.

"Linen closet, top shelf, hallway." Eddie supplies, knowing exactly what Steve was looking for.

"Right," Steve says slightly flustered. "I'll be right back."

Before he heads out the bathroom, Steve plants another kiss to Eddie's forehead.