#charcoal driveway

[bejoga-kitajiko]

Siding Tampa Large contemporary white two-story mixed siding house exterior idea with a tile roof

[pseudxcode]

Driveway Driveway in Sydney Inspiration for a large, fully-shaded farmhouse's summertime stone landscaping.

[garciamanuel]

Sydney Farmhouse Landscape photo of a sizable farmhouse with a brick driveway in the summer and full sun.

[gfguren]

pro hero!bakugou x fem!reader | fluff, suggestive, husband!katsuki, katsuki implied as being taller than reader, implied age (~late 20's, early 30s~), light-hearted bickering, an excuse to write more domestic!kats, 1.8k | cw: cursing, suggestive

-your husband comes home late, soaking wet and a little bit handsy-

Katsuki is late; you hope traffic isn't too bad. Outside your window the sky is overcast, steely shades of grey over a slate canvas. The roads are dyed an inky charcoal, pooling at the surface where rain drip-drip-pours in endless streams.

You've taken up residence in the foyer, between the linen closet at the end of the hall, and the umbrella Katsuki left by the front door this morning. The very same one you reminded him to take with him at breakfast, and twice again before he left in the evening. If you loved him a little bit less, he might listen to you one day.

But you do—love him—right down to his bad habits and stubborn disposition.

So you wait for him the same way you have for years; perched at the breakfast nook in the corner with a warm cup of tea and a paperback that's been gathering dust for half-a-year now at least. The bar table is worn at the edges, legs wobble if you lean too far forward—frankly, you should have gotten rid of it years ago—but it was the first belonging that wasn't yours, or Katsuki's, but ours; a piece you thrifted when you were both still twenty-something and broke.

The years have changed a lot—our table, our bed, our house, our life. Your Katsuki.

—His wife.

The band around your finger is white gold; it clinks when you put the mug to your lips. Honey, ginger. Sweet. Rain hits the window and falls; two trails meet at the middle, and stick to each other like glue. Katsuki would laugh if he found you right now, smiling into your tea like a lovestruck fool.

You let the ceramic rest, turn to page thirty-or-something of a book that you totally-intend-to-finish. An hour passes before you hear the telltale rumble of an engine.

You spot his headlights first, misty pools of sunlight spilling onto the pavement when he pulls into the driveway. It's well past midnight now; Katsuki is a shadow against the porchlight, long strides and a hand over his crown. You have half a mind to bring the umbrella to him, but he's quicker, ascends the four steps to the veranda in two big leaps; you barely register the rustle of keys before he's stepping into the house, pooling rainwater at the welcome mat.

He's soaked at the shoulders, a grumble in his throat when he kneels to unlace his shoes—black leather, designer and sharp, same as the suit jacket around his shoulders. Tailored to fit him just right.

Katsuki's always been handsome, even as a hero in training renting hand-me-down suits from the little mom-and-pop shop down the street. But it really strikes you just how beautiful he is when you look at him now, dressed to the nines. All the years of hard work paying off in more ways than one.

You go a little fuzzy when he lifts his head to catch you staring; red eyes kindling the air and making it hard to breathe. He's the spitting image of a number two hero, just returned from a long night at some fancy-pants gala; sometimes you forget that's exactly what he is. Even more dumbfounded that, somehow, he's yours.

"I know," he grumbles, moving his shoes to the cabinet and meticulously hanging his jacket over the chair to dry. He briefly eyes the umbrella. "I f'rgot, kay?"

So have you, suddenly.

There's a pause and—"I didn't say anything."

He meets you at the table, one hand at the surface and the other at the knot of his tie. "Y've got that look."

You tip you chin to glare at him playfully. "And what 'look' is that, Bakugou Katsuki?"

"Like y'r about t'chew me up." He pulls the fabric strip from around his neck in one fell swoop, pops the first button of his dress shirt with his thumb. Your eyes fall for only a moment—barely a second—but Katsuki grins with the self-awareness of a man who's known you half his life. "Or about t'jump my bones, hah?"

He looks entirely impish in his revelation, ego flaring to rest in his cheeks; you have half a mind to nip at them like candy floss, instead you reach for the cuffs of his button-up, tidy the sleeves one fold over the other until the rainwater and well-kept muscles catch at the seams. You feign a sigh when his stare becomes too insistent to ignore, hand falling to rest at the peaks of his knuckles. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah." A spark of firelight flashes in his eyes, deep carmine and coy; teasing him was so much easier a decade ago. "I'd let'cha."

You roll your eyes. "You're so unsexy, y'know that?"

"Hah," he barks with all the disbelief in the world. "What? Want me t'do that dirty talkin' shit instead? Jump y'r bones right here at the table? D'n think she'll hold up, baby."

He lets a fraction of his weight fall against the corner and the old wood immediately cries out, splintering oak and creaking hinges and the real, immediate threat that the poor thing might actually collapse at your feet.

You spring up defensively. "Katsuki!"

A once neatly-folded towel tumbles from your lap to land at your toes. His gaze falls; grin widens.

"Said y're gonna make me 'deal with it' next time I forgot the stinkin' umbrella, didn't'cha?" His fingers pinch the fat of your cheeks teasingly. "Love me that much, hah?" Your eyes narrow, fingers dive with intent for the space beneath his ribcage. He's quicker, wraps five fingers around your wrist and pulls you in with a hand at the back of your neck. He breathes, warm against the top of your head—"Missed y'tonight."

You hum against his chest, damp fabric sticking to your cheeks, flush and warm with surprise. You can count the number of times he's been this blunt with his affection on one hand; at least twice being in the presence of an empty champagne glass, or five. "Did you drink?" He gruffs at that—the only indication that he heard you at all. "Katsuki?"

"Come with me next time."

You tilt your chin, brow creasing. His head dips at the sight of the first wrinkle, the way it always does when he's trying to change the subject, or sweeten you up, or get his way in any way, really—a habit you must have taught him because you let him get away with it every single time. It's probably why he looks so offended when you pull back suddenly with a click of your tongue.

"That's not an answer."

"Not a drop," he finally says—huffs—with an almost boyish scowl.

You find yourself stifling a laugh, hand over mouth, and he glares, even as you step away to rustle through the linen closet. His eyes are red hot, brow downturned, downright grumpy, only cooling to a simmer when you're toe to toe once more, fresh towel in hand and lightly waving him down to your level. His spine bows, head dips until you're massaging the soft cotton through his hair; you would have had to fight him on this once—years ago—before time weathered his sharp edges, doused the wildfire raging in his heart until he became the man he is now—irritable, arrogant, stubborn, still, but willing—to make amends for who he was before, to extend a hand where he's able, to let you offer him one in return.

"Chose this one on purpose, didn't'cha?" Katsuki's voice is lukewarm, a tepid grumble at the back of his throat, an almost purr when you dip your fingertips against his nape.

"No idea what you're talking about."—but you do. The towel in question, he means, is from the left side of the closet, your side, all soft cotton and fluff; the same ones he refuses to use, for those very same reasons. "Said they 'd'n dry a damn thing' but-" you drape the supposed 'overrated, overpriced pile'a'fluff' around his shoulders to ruffle his bangs, more wily than usual, and barely damp. "Would y'look at that?"

He snorts, hand falling to the small of your back. "Don't get smart."

"Or what?" you keen up at him, at the balls of your feet, tip toes and still barely nose to nose; they bump once on accident, and twice on purpose. "Huh?"

Warm, exasperated breath fans across your cheeks. "Tryna start somethin' t'night, are ya?"

You bat your lashes, head tilting and fingers splaying across the 'v' of his neckline. "Me? Start something?" Your grin betrays your facade. "And what if I am?"

He pulls you in at the waist, holds you steady with one, strong arm, warm lips at your jaw and low, deep voice in your ear. "Better be ready t'finish it, then."

His right hand comes to rest at the back of your thigh, teases the skin right where your skirt ends; gooseflesh blooms all the way up your spine and you shiver. "Who's jumping bones now, huh?" you bark—yap, like a scaredy-pup with it's tail between it's legs—bite lost somewhere between the callouses on Katuski's fingertips and the press of his hips against your own.

You straighten your shoulders to get a good look at the ego washing over his face like miles of trumpet vine. All consuming, a force to be reckoned with. And devastatingly pretty.

"That'd be me, pretty lady," he says, all kinds of smug and annoying.

You hold him with your stare for an entire second—two, just so you can get a real good look at his stupid, handsome face—and then you're pulling him in by the collar, wrinkling the shirt he'll spend too much on dry-cleaning tomorrow. Not that he seems to mind when your tongue meets his, honey mingling with the mint on his breath and making his head swim, all but forgotten when a hand comes to rest at your waist, heated fingertips beneath your sweater, licking softly at your skin.

He walks you back 'til your thighs hit the table—(it rocks, precariously); one of your hands fall against the surface, the other to his heart that thump-thump-jumps when thunder rumbles through the house, and stills. You smile, soft against his lips, thumb tracing the precipice of his collarbone until your fingers can curl around his spine. The next kiss against his mouth is featherlight, barely there; you sigh, contentedly—"I love you."

Katsuki goes a little hazy, eyes the color of early Autumn; the blazing summer sun reduced to a tealight candle, flickering in the palms of your hands. "Yeah," he chokes. And you know just what he means.

You kiss him then, once more, a little more playful this time; mischievous and coy with a cheeky, "—even though you're totally unsexy."

"So help me, y/n, I will howitzer this table."

[stark-ironman]

What about something cute with Hugh where you're also an actor/actress and you go on the buzzfeed puppy interview. You end up falling in love with one of them and surprise Hugh when you get back home with a dog

Puppy Loving

"Hi! I'm Y/N Jackman and this is Buzzfeeds puppy interview!" You say excitedly as the workers bring some puppies out to you, letting them run around all over you. "I'm wearing a new outfit so which one of you is going to pee on it." You chuckle, petting a couple of them on the back while a charcoal dark puppy in particular cuddles up in your lap.

The show continues as you answer every question as honest as you can, smiling when the interviewer brings up Hugh. "So, your husband got to actually make an appearance in your new movie. What was it like to work with him?" She asks.

"Oh, it was amazing. We work so well together. We both respect each others boundaries when it comes to how we want things to run on set and if theres any problems, we just take five and have a private conversation but it's very rare that we have a problem. Honestly he's just an amazing actor in general. I would do movies with him for the rest of my career if I could." You ramble as you try to pet all the puppies, making sure to be mindful of the one in your lap.

The interview wraps up and you stand up, watching as they take all the puppies away but the one that cuddled on your lap the whole time doesn't budge, causing you to pout a little. "Normally the puppies are ready to go and eat after this. This one must really love being around you." The interviewer says.

"It seems so.." You hesitate and ask, "Can I keep this one? I don't want to let them go." You ask. She nods, "Let's sign a quick paper and he is all yours."

You sign everything that needs to be signed and leave, swinging by the pet store and getting everything you need for the new addition before calling Hugh.

"Hey, love. How was the interview?" He asks out of breath.

"It was really good actually. You must have just gotten finished working out." You say.

"Yeah, I just finished. I'm heading up to the kitchen now."

"Bedore you do that, can you meet me in the garage? I ran to the store and need help getting them out of the car."

"Sure, love. How far out are you?"

"I'm fixing to pull onto our street now so like 3 minutes out."

"I'll have the garage open for you."

"Thank you, babe. I love you."

"I love you. See you in a few minutes."

After you hang up, you look at the little puppy curled up in the pet carrier next to you, smiling softly as you pull into the driveway, seeing Hugh standing there shirtless.

You let out a low whistle when he opens your door, causing him to burst out laughing while he helps you up. "This is a sight to see now. If I didn't have a surprise for you, I would let you take me right here." You say pulling him down to kiss you.

"Mm, what's the surprise, love?" He asks. You point to the passenger seat, watching him walk over and smiles when he let's out a gasp, pulling the puppy from the carrier. "Oh my goodness, they're so cute!" Hugh coos, talking some more to the puppy. "It's a boy from what the lady told me. This little guy stayed curled up in my lap and I just couldn't leave him there." You pout as you scratch his ears.

"What's his name going to be?" He asks. "I'm not sure. I wanted to decide with you." You lean against him, petting the puppy softly. "He honestly looks like a Rocky. You want your name to be Rocky?" Hugh coos again and the puppy wags his tail. "I guess it's decided then." You say chuckling.

[wileys-russo]

I jusr re-read Mrs. Williamson and the idea of rxLeah with Alessia as the little sister is something I can't get out of my head. So I have a suggestion, I thought about her usually being a little shit (like in the story) but then also being very protective of her older sister. Maybe r and Leah have a fight and Alessia is very protective but in a sweet way not a mean way towards Leah, more like pampering r but being firm in demanding an apology from Leah. Or something along those lines, would love to read something like thins from you! :)

mrs williamson ficlet, continuing on from here

alessia had answered your call as she usually would, with a sarcastic remark about never gaining back the minutes of her life you were about to drain her from. though the very second you'd spoken and she heard the way your voice cracked she was sitting bolt upright with a frown.

"what happened? are you okay? is the baby okay?" "the baby is fine. can you come over please?"

she was there in record time, grateful to have not been pulled over the way with the way she sped through the last two sets of lights before pulling into your driveway.

the first thing alessia noticed was the lack of your wifes car in the driveway and her eyebrows knitted together, grabbing her bag and kicking her door shut she jogged up the front steps.

you'd already opened the front door before she even reached it, and her features softened seeing your red puffy eyes clearly indicating you'd been crying. "whats happened then?" your younger sister pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back which was aching given you were now five months pregnant.

you only shook your head not able to even speak as alessia sighed, shuffling the two of you inside and closing the door as you let go of her. "where's leah?" alessia asked gently as she followed you into the kitchen, the scoff and roll of your eyes all she needed to know the blonde was clearly not in your good books.

"not here." you muttered, moving to grab two mugs from the cupboard as alessia appeared behind you. "i'll do it, sit down please." she shooed you away ignoring your protests, helping you sit down carefully on the lounge.

"shit you're huge now." she remarked bluntly as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the piercing glare sent her way having her eyes widen. "not like that! just, you know." alessia gestured awkwardly to her stomach, wincing as you continued to blankly stare at her.

"i'll get the tea!" she announced, darting back to the kitchen as you rolled your eyes and glanced down to your phone beside you which was lighting up with notifications, turning it over and not bothering to even look at them.

alessia returned and shot you a filthy look as you made a comment you were surprised she managed to carry both mugs in and not spill a drop, your younger sister notoriously clumsy.

"so dear sister. self care day?"

~

"is it supposed to feel sort of like its burning?" you questioned with a slight frown, touching your cheeks which were coated in a charcoal facemask alessia had gifted you ages ago and had remained untouched.

"yes! that means its working to get rid of all your wrinkles." alessia mumbled as you kicked her with a glare for the comment. "hey! you're messing up my artwork." the blonde scowled, tugging your foot back into her lap where she was painting your toenails having already done your nails.

"so will you tell me now what you and leah are fighting about?" your sister asked glancing up at you curiously, not having pushed you too much but still in the dark on why it was that your wife was nowhere to be found and you'd clearly been crying when she showed up.

though as you shook your head the striker sighed but again didn't push you, knowing better than to try and get information out of you that you clearly weren't ready to share.

despite how much of a kick she got from winding you up and messing with you this was one of those rare occasions you were grateful for her, and the quiet thank you mumbled to her was all she needed for a grin to settle into her features.

you feared she'd hold this against you for her own gain in the future but for now you were just relishing in her efforts to make you feel better, no matter how much you might argue the two of you were still incredibly close and despite being younger alessia had always been fiercely protective.

which is why when the door rang and she glanced over your head to see leahs car was now parked in the driveway alessia was quick to her feet, ordering you to let your nails dry and handing you some micellar wipes to remove the mask from your face.

"leah." your sister spoke dryly as she opened the door, the older girl caught off guard as she frowned. "alessia?" she answered with a raised eyebrow. "why are you here then?" the younger blonde challenged, effectively blocking the doorway as leah gave her a strange look.

"well because i live here. why exactly are you here less?" "i'm here because my heavily pregnant sister called me crying and upset, which i can only assume is your doing. so, come to apologise then?"

"did she tell you why she's upset?" leah narrowed her eyes trying to step inside as alessia protectively spread herself to further block the door. "she didn't need to." alessia quipped back causing leah to exhale deeply.

"babe!" leah cupped her hands and yelled out into the house making alessia roll her eyes. "what?" you hovered behind your sister, eyes slit into a glare and arms crossed over her chest.

"this is so stupid love. what have you done?" leah sighed as alessia scoffed. "what has she done?" the taller girl retorted as your hand fell to her shoulder gaining her attention.

"you left me leah." "i what!?

"you left her while she's nearly six months pregnant leah what the hell is the matter with you!" alessia angrily lunged for her team mate who hastily stepped back as you pulled your sister inside by the back of her jumper and mumbled for her to stop it.

"i didn't leave you! i went to the shops!" leah gestured to the bags by her feet as alessia fell silent and took a step back as you stepped forward. "i woke up and you were gone, your car was gone, there wasn't a note and you left your house keys behind." your eyes welled up with tears as leahs face softened.

"baby i've sent you like a hundred messages. i knew you were upset i couldn't find the peanut butter ice cream last night so i've gone to like ten different stores till i found it." leah picked up one of the bags and showed you its contents.

"im sorry!" you burst out into tears as your wife hurried to pull you into a hug, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your back.

"sorry, pause!" alessia laughed in disbelief, leah shooting her a warning glare which was ignored. "she went to the shops for a few hours and you thought she left you?" alessia shook her head, running a hand down her face with a shake of her head.

"alessia i am pregnant and hormonal okay!" you sobbed as leah shushed you and placed a kiss to your forehead. "oh my-" alessia wasted no time grabbing her keys and pushing past you.

"if you weren't pregnant i would throw you down these stairs!" your sister seethed, pausing to take a deep breath as she caught leahs eye who smiled apologetically.

"you are hereby banned from calling me unless its about the baby, you're dying, you're in labour or seriously injured." your sister warned seriously, pointing at you with a menacing look before huffing and storming off down the driveway.

"i love you!" you yelled after her, a middle finger all you got in response as you buried your face in your wifes chest and she helped you inside, still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"darling you seriously thought i left you? why didn't you just call me or read my messages?" "again, very pregnant and very hormonal okay i wasn't able to think!" "right right sorry my love, lets get some ice cream into you then. i love you very very much...even if you're a little unhinged." "leah i heard that!"

[ereardon]

Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. 

A part of you had forgotten what it smelled like, to breathe fresh ocean air instead of stuffy city smog. Six years in London had warped your senses. It had worn its way into your everyday life, from the coffee you drank (flat whites) to the way you asked for random items (bits and bobs) to the foods you now craved (sausage rolls and chips with mayonnaise). 

You looked down at your ratty pajama bottoms and sighed. Even though you had spent the better part of a decade abroad, living a sparkling social life in one of the world’s greatest cities, you were still the simple girl next door from Montecito. You still lived with your parents, a fact that you were very well aware of as you stood at the french doors of your childhood bedroom, staring out across the backyard. 

Below, you could smell the charcoal grill and your mother’s famous peach cobbler. 

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice was nearly crushed by the sound of a car zipping up the circular driveway. You leaned out further against the Juliette balcony, trying to spy the car, the green back end of a shiny Jaguar coming into view. “Come downstairs for cocktails!” 

“Five minutes!” you called back. 

Ten minutes later, who was counting, you stepped barefoot down the spiral staircase, landing silently on the marble foyer floor. Voices carried across the expansive hallway through to the back of the house where the large iron doors leading out to the patio were propped open, a light early fall breeze wafting in. 

Before you could make it halfway across the room, a ball of fur caught your eye and you were almost toppled by a shaggy golden retriever as he jumped on your legs. 

“Hugo!” You bent down, rubbing your hands along the dog’s spine, over his head, ruffling his ears. “You’ve gotten old, buddy.” 

“He’s aged like fine wine, just like his dad.” 

You looked up. Jake Seresin was headed straight for you, a grin practically splitting his face, his favorite cowboy hat resting on his head. You gave Hugo one last pat on the head before standing up, flinging your arms open wide, letting Jake pull you tightly into a hug. He smelled familiar, like dirt and ripe stone fruit, and as you pulled away you noted that his left hand, typically adorned with a gold wedding band, was bare. 

“Good to have you back, Sparky,” he said, stepping toward the back of the house, Hugo following on his footsteps. 

“God, been ages since someone’s called me that,” you replied. “In London they just called me that California girl.” 

He laughed. Jake’s laugh was always something you had admired. Deep, and whole. It practically had its own seat at the long wooden table that your mother had piled high with bowls of colorful salads and plates of dip. 

“Y/N, can you pour the wine Jake brought?” 

“Sure.” You grabbed the bottle. It didn’t have a label, just a simple green bottle with a red wax drip over the cork. You sliced it off carefully, sinking a corkscrew into the soft cork with ease. Jake watched with hawk eyes as you yanked the handle up seamlessly, pulling out the cork and sniffing it. A warm pinot noir. You poured yourself a fingertip in a glass and took a sip. “Damn that’s good.” 

Your mother frowned. “Manners, missy.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mother, I’m twenty five.” 

“You’re never too old to be reminded that it’s nice to have manners.” 

“She’s not wrong, Marla,” Jake said, his fingertips folding over yours as he took the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glass. “It is damn good.” 

“You’re biased,” your father said, leaning back against his wooden chair. “It’s the best vintage you’ve had since you bought the place.” 

“Good rain last year,” Jake replied, sliding the glass back over toward you. “And no fires.” 

“Thank God,” your father replied.

“Where’s Colin?” You turned left and right, your older brother nowhere to be seen. 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the outdoor table. You frowned. Colin had always been the wild card of the family, but you had complete faith in him. The two of you were Irish twins, born only a year apart, and he was the one you spoke to almost daily while you lived abroad. Colin was the one who called you when cousin Jackie ditched her fiancé two days before the wedding, and Colin was the one who tapped on your door late at night to sneak out and go swimming on balmy summer nights. It was Colin who you could depend on, even when no one else could depend on him. 

“He’s out,” your father said finally, folding his hands on the table. “Shall we get started?” 

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” you replied, leaning forward and taking a heaping serving of your mother’s famous quinoa salad. 

“So Sparky, how’s it going, being back?” Jake leaned forward in his iron chair, picking at a piece of garlic bread. 

“Well, the food isn’t all brown,” you replied, biting into a ripe tomato, letting the flavor burst along your tongue, “so that’s a plus.” 

“I quite liked those potato triangle things they had in Scotland,” your dad replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Potato tatties dad. And yes, those are good. But so are vegetables.” You paused. “I have to say, the wine here is way too expensive though.” 

“Ouch.” Jake smirked. “Speaking of wine, your mom said you’re looking for a job for a few months, while you get everything for your clinic organized?” You nodded. You had signed the lease for the clinic over Zoom while still packing up your flat in London, excitement worming its way through your limbs. It was becoming real. Six years of school and finally you were opening your own counseling practice in California. “Contractor said we’re about four months from finishing.” 

“Come work for me.” You looked up, surprised. Jake had his hand dangling over the side of his chair, petting Hugo’s fluffy head. “I need a new manager. Someone with people skills and a head for numbers. You can work whatever hours you need, if you need to start late or end early to check in on the clinic.” 

“That’s a really nice offer.” 

“I sense a but coming.” 

You nodded. “But I don’t know anything about business.” 

Jake waved a hand in the air. There was a nonchalance about him. There always had been. He was the polar opposite of your father – a hard exterior corporate lawyer. No nonsense. Jake and your father had been friends for as long as you could remember. But he and his late wife Jenny were the complete opposite of your parents. They traveled the world. They hiked in Peru and ate at tiny sidewalk cafes in Vietnam. For the majority of your life, they had lived in the Bay area, and you would see them a few times a year, the two of them dropping by on the tail end of a trip or at the start of another. 

It wasn’t until Jenny passed away that Jake decided to put down roots. He packed up the Marin house, settled into a beautiful ranch-style home on the edge of the new vineyard he purchased. 

“Neither did I,” he said. “You’ll make it work. You’re a smart girl. Besides, there’s free wine in the deal.” 

You raised your glass. “Well, who could say no to that?” 

***

You slid your sunglasses to the top of your head, locking the car door and staring out at the vineyards stretched in front of you. 

Jake had bought the vineyard, Carrboro Estates, three years before, right after Jenny died. In that time, you had only been home once, and even that was just a quick four days during Christmas break. This was the first time you were seeing the vineyard in person. 

It was a Monday, the vineyard was closed to the public. As you walked down the stone path toward the Tuscan-style doors, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance between your parents' cliff-side house and the structure in front of you. 

“Hello?” The entry was large, with swirled marble slabs on the floor, a two-storey tall wall of wine bottles to your left, a round table in the center of the entry area with a few sample bottles of wine. You stepped closer. A picture of Jake sat in the very center of the table, grinning and holding up a glass of wine, the sun setting behind him over the grapes. 

He looked handsome. It wasn’t the first time you had recognized your father’s friend was attractive. But it was the first time as an adult you realized just how much of a commodity Jake must be, now that he was single. 

“Sparky? I’m down here, staircase on your right.” 

You followed Jake’s voice, down a hallway that opened up into a large staircase. Quietly, sneakers slapping against the broad steps, you made your way to the lower level, which opened up to an entire wall of glass doors, a patio sitting right outside. 

“Pretty nice view, right?” You swiveled around. Jake was holding a glass in one hand, cleaning it with a white cloth. 

You grinned. “Nice is an understatement.” 

“Welcome to Carrboro Estates.” 

“Fancy.” 

Jake chuckled. “Come on, let’s do the tour and then have a drink.” 

Jake walked you through the lower level, which held the outdoor patio as well as the kitchen. Upstairs, there was a private events and tasting room, as well as a bar. One half of the building had floor to ceiling windows with views over the vineyard, which cascaded down the hillside. 

“I can’t believe you built this all.” 

“Most of it was done by the time I bought the property,” Jake said as the two of you settled into a table at the edge of the patio. He uncorked a bottle seamlessly, tipping it into a wide mouthed glass, the red liquid dripping down the side leaving thin streaks. “I just made some changes, and then added on the house.” 

“Where is it?” You looked around. 

“About half a mile that way,” Jake replied, stretching one finger to your right. “Just below that hill.” 

“Bet it’s lovely.” 

“I’ll have you over some time for dinner. Hugo would like it.” You grinned. Jake set his wine glass down. “So the job. I’m looking for someone to be here when I’m not, essentially. You’d be front of house and back of house, which means helping with tastings, ordering supplies for the food menu, overseeing staff and helping me with some of the books. A little bit of everything.” 

“I’ve never had a real job,” you confessed. “I mean, I was a TA at Uni, and a lifeguard that one summer before senior year, but that’s about it.” 

“I’m looking for someone smart, that people like and want to listen to. You’re perfect for the job.” 

You cocked your head to one side. “That’s it? That’s the interview?” 

“I trust you,” Jake said and you looked up, surprised. His eyes were locked on yours. “What I don’t get is why you think you can’t do this.” 

His words cut, but not because they were harsh. You found yourself shocked that Jake Seresin of all people could read you like an open book. 

“What if I fail?” you asked quietly.

“At what, pouring wine?” Jake shrugged. “Open a new bottle. I don’t care if you break a hundred, fuck, a thousand bottles. Doesn’t matter to me, Sparky.” 

“Not the wine,” you whispered. “My clinic.” 

Jake nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

“Terrified,” you admitted. “Excited. Every feeling in the book.” 

“I was so worried the night before we opened that I accidentally got rip roaring drunk in the kitchen,” Jake said and you laughed. “Woke up the next morning at five a.m. on the floor in just my jeans and boots, no shirt. And had to open and welcome all the employees.” 

“Does it get better?” 

“Starting your own business is terrifying,” Jake said. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re going to be great.” 

You smiled. “I’ll take the job.” 

Jake tipped more wine into your glass. “Honey, your name’s already on the books. You’re working your first shift on Wednesday.” You blinked and Jake shrugged. “I said I needed help, didn’t I? Besides, this place needs some warmth in it. I think you’re exactly what we’ve been missing.” 

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

[aanoia]

OMG I HAVE ANOTHER ONE I HAVE ANOTHER ONE

What about putting lights on the house with single dad James that’s also next door neighbor. So basically Harry sees their nice next door neighbor struggling to put up the outside decorations and he forces his dad to help. And Que cute decorating time and end with hot cocoa and baking cookies with Harry!

I LOVED this idea, thank you

𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - a hallmark christmas movie

James Potter x reader day eight of christmas advent calendar words; 1,600+ warnings; broken glass i made harry really clumsy and lily evil so enjoy

Y/n sighed, hands on her hips, as she stared at the bucket of tangled Christmas lights. She thought hard on how she could possibly do this, the years before she’s always had a boyfriend or her dad do it. But this year, not only was she single but her dad was visiting her sister in America this Christmas.

‘If only magic was real,’ She thought while shaking her head and beginning to work on the Christmas lights. 

Y/n struggled to pull out a single strand, so she decided to just pour them all out instead. She sat on her snowy lawn, thankful she had decided to wear her snow gear before she came out. Y/n sat there, pulling roughly on the lights and fighting off frustrated tears.

After ten minutes of trying she threw the lights onto the snow in annoyance and flopped onto her back, spreading out her arms and legs as if she was making a snow angel. She glared at the snow falling from the sky.

From inside the next door house, a little boy with charcoal hair watched the woman intently from the window. His breath fogged up the window, so every breath he exhaled he wiped his sleeve against the cold glass.

“Harry, it’s rude to stare.” The boy's dad, James, said as he hugged his son from behind and pulled him up. Harry laughed as James tickled his stomach.

“I think she needs help, dada.” Harry mentioned - his lisp making his “s” sound like a “th” - and James cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, what makes you think that?” He asked his son.

“Look, she can’t get her Christmas lights to go apart.” He explained and James peered out the window to see his neighbors figure in the snow, struggling to untangle lights.

James ruffled his son's hair and set him back down, “She’ll figure it out, bud, don’t worry.”

Y/n sighed in relief as the Christmas lights were finally untangled. She stood up, her legs cracking loudly, and picked up the connected strands. She connected the end to a long extension cord. Y/n waddled over to the ladder and prayed her driveway didn’t have any ice she couldn’t see as she climbed up cautiously. 

A gust of wind blew past and she gripped onto the sides roughly, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to the universe. She took another step up, and another, until she could finally reach the hooks on the edge of her house. Y/n looped the strand around the hook and brought it over to the next.

She repeated this multiple times until she got to the end. Y/n glanced at her neighbors window and smiled at the sight of the small boy looking at her from inside. He gave her a wide smile, showing his missing two front teeth. She waved at him, instantly regretting her decision.

A large gust of wind blew by and her lights flickered and zapped, causing her to startle and slip from the ladder. A loud crack filled the air and immediately she was in a warm pair of strong arms. Y/n didn’t care who it was, she just held on tightly to her savior as she tried to calm her heart.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asked as he set her down and Y/n finally looked up.

‘What in the Hallmark Christmas movie is this?’ She wondered as she stared in the framed eyes of her hot neighbor. His front door closed loudly as his little boy ran over worriedly.

“Are you okay, Miss Y/n?” Harry asked, grabbing onto her hand with both his small ones. His snowcoat was on backwards and his scarf was in a tangle around his head, but at least he tried.

Y/n smiled and leaned down to the boy, “Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine, Harry, thank you.” Harry took a step and wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Up, please.” He said quietly and Y/n laughed as she picked him up. James watched the interaction with awe in his eyes. He’s never seen a woman like that with Harry, not since Lily left the two for America. 

“Thank you, James. I really appreciate it.” Y/n said and James smiled.

“Of course, anytime. Let me finish the job for you though.” He offered and Y/n nodded, holding tightly onto the little boy. 

“Be careful.” Y/n warned as James climbed up the ladder. He laughed and put the strand on the last hook before sliding down the ladder.

“Easy peasy.” He boasted and Y/n rolled her eyes and set Harry down. “We better get back to our house.”

“No!” Harry complained.

Y/n held out a hand, stopping the man from dragging his kid back to their house, “Do you want to come in? I have a tree I still need to decorate and some cookies practically begging to be baked.” James was silent as he contemplated. “I have hot cocoa! With the little chunks of candy cane in it.”

James immediately nodded, “I’m sold.”

“Okay, crack the eggs carefully, Harry. We don’t want any of the shells getting into the batter, alright?”

Harry nodded, “Okay.” He smashed the egg against the bowl and cracked it perfectly and he did it again with the second egg. When the third egg came around, he hit against the bowl with just a little too much force and the insides of the egg out, half going onto the table and the other half in the bowl, egg shells going along with it.

The room was silent for a moment before Y/n began laughing, the two boys quickly joining in. Y/n shook her head in amusement as she grabbed a spoon and handed it to Harry, instructing him to fish out the egg shells as she grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned the egg on the table.

“Harry, don’t eat the raw egg.” James said with a smile and Harry stuck his tongue out at his dad. James returned the gesture as Y/n measured a cup of flour. She handed it to Harry who dumped the flour onto his head instead of in the bowl.

“What?” Y/n asked as James stood in shock as bits of flour fell from his sons head.

“What was the point of that?” James asked and Harry laughed, the adults joining in with him to make the kitchen full of laughter once again.

“Oh, you’re such a dork.” Y/n teased. “Tell you what, the bathroom is just down the hall, I’ll finish the batter while you go let your dad clean you up, yeah?” Harry nodded and jumped off the stool, causing more flour to cover the ground in white.

“I’m sorry.” James said as he followed after his kid.

Y/n smiled, “You can use my shampoo.”

“Okay, Harry, you have to be very careful with this one. It’s very fragile.” Y/n said as she handed Harry a glass ornament. Harry nodded and held the ornament by the string.

Unavoidably, Harry tripped over a box and in an attempt to steady himself the ornament dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces. Harry immediately began crying and worry filled Y/n’s body, afraid he had been cut by the glass. She swept him off the floor and checked his bare feet to see nothing but blank skin. She looked at his hands to see them in the same condition.

“Oh, Harry, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt?” She asked as James rushed to get the broom from the kitchen. 

“I broke your tree decoration!” He said, which only made him wail louder. Y/n sat on her sofa and cradled the boy in her arms.

“Oh, love, it’s okay. It’s just an ornament. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She said quietly and James froze at the sight, broom in hand.

His heart swelled as he only fell deeper in love with his neighbor. He had always thought she was beautiful, but seeing how she interacted with Harry - both today and many previous interactions - made him feel more than just attraction. He was curious and felt a longing for her. He didn’t want her to only take up the hole Lily left in his heart, he wanted her to take his whole heart, and Harry’s too. 

Once Harry stopped crying, he quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the day and its endeavors.

“We had a really good time.” James said as the two adults walked to the front door.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ll make sure to bring over some cookies for you two.” Y/n responded with a smile, leaning against the doorframe as James took a step into the dark night. 

He turned around, “Y/n…” He hesitated.

“Yes?”

James glanced up and smiled, “There’s a mistletoe.” He said quietly and Y/n’s eyes flitted up as well. She furrowed her brows at the mistletoe, she had definitely not put that there. She didn’t even own one.

Her eyes met James again, “So it seems.”

James leaned in, and when Y/n didn’t protest he went farther. Y/n’s hand found James’ cheek and she gently connected their lips. The kiss was soft, and warm, despite the cold air nipping at their cheeks. Y/n laughed softly as they pulled apart.

“What’s so funny?” James asked with a grin.

“You’re cute.” She whispered and he was thankful the cold reddened his cheeks before she could.

“Good night.” He responded.

“Good night, James.” Y/n said and closed the door, leaning against it once he left. She slid down and sat with a giddy smile. “Definitely a Hallmark Christmas movie.”

my masterlist

If you'd like to be added to my main or christmas taglist comment or DM me!

christmas taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @slay345-7 @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @mblacksworld @optirizzprime @whoreforlupin @0-cherries-0 @itsjustpoppy-blog @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @gublers-gf @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old

[delopsia]

Thinking about Rhett inviting you to come celebrate the 4th of July with his family.

They don't typically do very much; ranch work doesn't stop for a holiday, but it's one of the rare occasions where Royal breaks out the grill with meat from a cow that they raised themselves. Cecelia's plants have yielded just enough to allow her to make those infamous berry parfaits, and Perry has once again gone to ridiculous lengths to get the most absurd fireworks that he can find.

Rhett is the guy who holds everything together. Bugging Royal to get back to the grill before he burns the damn brisket again, helping Perry haul out the outdoor dining table. He takes Amy to pick up her two little friends for their holiday sleepover, hides the lighter from Perry, hunts down those sparkling glass cups that his momma has once again misplaced.

He even finds the time to haul you out behind the barn, kissing you until his lips are bruised, only interrupted by Royal calling out to ask if he's found the spare bag of charcoal yet.

Usually, Rhett's the one to go out into the pasture and pick the perfect spot to light the fireworks, but this year, he's letting you pick it. And so what if you come back with your shirt slightly out of place an hour later? It's hard work choosing the perfect spot to light fireworks!

It's only after dinner that you truly realize how many fireworks Perry has gathered. Sparkles of color booming above your head, tiny things crackling, wailing, and spinning, hardly living up to the power of their predecessors. Perry keeps bugging Rhett to come light one, but Rhett's too lazy to move out from your side, his head resting on your shoulder, playing with a sparkler.

And as soon as you think it's all over, the Tillersons begin to light their own. A sea of color paints the night sky, thousands of dollars worth of fireworks, all coming together to create a dazzling portrait. Perry mutters that one day, he'll make it big and outdo them. Rhett just kisses your cheek and compliments you on the spot you've chosen.

It's around this time that Perry happens to walk past Rhett's truck and realizes that he's got a small stash of his own fireworks. The ridiculously powerful ones that aren't sold anywhere near Wabang and are certainly not legal.

"You fucker!" Perry's grinning from ear to ear, lifting one in the air for all to see. "When were you gonna say anything?"

Rhett hums, all too focused on smacking your sparkler with his. It's a battle for the ages, and you're not sure who's winning. "When mom left."

It's Royal who surprises you the most. You've never seen that old man scramble around so fast, hauling those giant fireworks down the hill with his sons, before their fun can be cut short.

When the first one goes off, Rhett's big hands settle over your ears. They hardly do a thing to muffle the heart-stopping boom, but it's the effort that counts. One after the other, so strong that you can feel the ground jump with it, and oh, Cecelia does not think it's funny when three officers show up at the front door, saying that someone reported bombs going off.

Royal hides in the barn. Perry uses an old trick to climb up into his second-story window. Rhett? Well, his old truck is roaring down the driveway, with you giggling in the passenger seat, and not even the devil himself can stop you 🧨

[hauntedministry]

I will ruin you.

Pairings: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!reader

Word count: Approx 4.5K

Summary: After a long-term relationship ended badly, you decided it was best to return home, surrounded by people you knew, and grew up with. It had been years since you’d seen Joel and had always had eyes for him but knew never to act upon it.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! SMUT MINORS DNI!! Age gap, reader is in their 20s and Joel is in his 40s. Unprotected P in V sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy). Light degradation, ish. Brat taming kink also ish, let’s gooo (I mean dbf!Joel and brat taming go hand in hand). Spanking, risky sex, creampie, kind of stalker Joel but not really. If I can think of anymore or if you find more please let me know 🫶

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve posted so please let me know what you think! I’m also definitely not a writer this is mostly self indulgent 😅

The sun was setting as your dads pick up pulled into the driveway. You jumped out of the car and onto the pavement, there was a slight breeze that ran through your hair, it was a little chilly but still pleasant. Grabbing your bag from the front seat, you shut the door and let out a small sigh while you looked at the home where you grew up. It felt so nice to be back home. “Thanks for getting me, dad.” You say giving your dad a smile.

“Anytime sweetheart, it’s good to have you back home.” He pulled you in for a cuddle, and you felt instantly comforted. You’d missed him, barely being able to find the time to see him, let alone call. But now you had all the time in the world. He walked up to the front door and unlocked it. “After you, princess.” Your dad gestured while he stepped to the side.

“Hey come on now, enough of that, dad.” You rolled your eyes at the pet name while walking indoors. “I haven’t been ‘princess’ for years.”

“Ah well you’re still my little girl.” He replied and in response you groaned and shook your head with a smile. The last time you were able to visit home had been 3 years ago when your ex had actually given a damn about your life. You’d missed it so much. “I’ll let you get your things upstairs. Join me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I shouldn’t be too long!” You called down to your dad, already up the stairs and headed to your old room. You dropped your bag on the bed and sat down next to it, taking a moment to take in your surroundings. Most of things were as you left them, some decorations made you cringe as it was years since you had moved out. You then hopped off your bed and began to unpack a few items from your travel bag. The rest of your belongings were left at your exes. That was a task for another day you thought to yourself, now all you wanted was to relax.

Shortly after your dad had brought you two home, the front door was opened, then shut, then followed by a loud voice calling out to your dad. You’d investigate in a second but for now you just wanted a moment to yourself. After freshening yourself up you changed into a different outfit, a pair of charcoal mum jeans and a loose fitting baby pink sweater that you half tucked into your jeans.

You finally decided to show face and find out who the mystery visitor was. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. After reaching the bottom step you walked into the living room and stopped in your tracks. “Oh my god, Joel?” You called out to the tall man standing next to your dad, he was wearing a simple black t-shirt that clung to his broad chest and it was paired with navy blue jeans. You didn’t think you’d see him again after he moved away so this was such a wonderful surprise. Joel and your dad had been friends for a very long time, they always helped each other out when they needed it. You hated to admit it but you had always had the hots for him for so many years. Joel turned his head towards you and also had to do a double take.

“Who the fuck is this?” He then looked back to your dad and your smile dropped, you felt a twinge of disappointment. “Ahh I’m just kiddin’ doll, c’mere!” with a grin and a chuckle, he pulled you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around you, you instantly melted into him. You could’ve stayed there forever, his scent was intoxicating. “God it’s been like five years ain’t that right?” Joel said with his arms still wrapped around you, his chin rested softly on your head.

“Yeah it’s been a while.” You both finally broke away from the hug and you took this as an opportunity to really look him over. Gosh he was still as gorgeous as you had remembered, if not more so. “Last time I came home was about three years back, but I know you’d moved away. I didn’t think I’d see you again, what brought you back?” You ask trying to discreetly check him out, you could’ve sworn his eyes were trailing you up and down but you swiftly pushed away the thought. Joel had aged like a fine wine, his hair was growing a few more greys, his face gained more wrinkles but it suited him so well.

“Somethin’ ‘bout this place, just feels like home. Besides I had nothin’ keepin’ me back there anyway.” He caught your gaze and you snapped out of your daydreaming. Last time you’d seen him, he was head over heels for some woman, that must’ve ended or he wouldn’t be back you thought to yourself.

“I’m with you there Joel. Well I’m glad you’re back. So what’s my second favourite old man been up to?” You ask giddy with excitement and nudge his arm with your elbow.

“Old man? All this time to grow up and she still ain’t learnt any manners?” He shook his head calling to your dad who was in the kitchen and laughed, a deep belly laugh. You swear it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your dad came back from the kitchen with some beer bottles, you gladly accepted as did Joel.

“It comes from a place of love I swear!” You replied with a hand on your heart and a bat of your lashes. All three of you made your way to the couch and took your places, you sat on one end of the sofa, your dad next to you and Joel on the armchair just a little off to the side. He was sat with his legs wide, his large thighs constricted in his jeans. You had to remind yourself to look away.

“I know sugar, ‘m just teasin’.” He shoots you a wink from his side of the room. “Me an’ your dad found work together, like handy stuff fixin’ things an’ the like.” He took another swig from his bottle. Your dad got up to grab some snacks from the kitchen. “How comes you’re back home then? I thought you had found your Prince Charming?” He asked, looking you over for answers.

“Oh yeah, him.” You said, your tone lowering to an almost whisper as your thumb fiddled with the rim of your bottle.

“Oh my bad, doll. I-.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck as he saw your demeanour change.

“No no, it’s fine. He was just so immature and he’d fallen out of love a long time back.” You take a moment to gather yourself before continuing. “In the end I caught him with buried balls deep in some girl.” Joel was watching you recant the memory, he felt bad but in his mind he knew he was never right for you. “Just wish I could’ve seen it coming sooner.”

“I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt real bad.” You nodded slowly looking down at your bottle. “Stupid boy don’t know what he’s lost.” Joel continued, the compliment sending a warmth through your body, why did he have to be so goddamn charming.

“Still, that part of my life’s over, now it’s time to start a new chapter. And hey, could be worse at least I’ve got my two old boys with me.” You giggled, blushing slightly making contact with Joel’s beautiful deep brown eyes.

“Ah man come on now!” He retorted with a half grin.

The evening carried on filled with remembering memories and making stupid dad jokes. You’d missed just being able to be you around people you loved and cared about. And my god was it so good to see Joel again.

————————————————————————————

Joel came to your dads almost every morning to head off to their various call outs together. One morning, you had come downstairs in your pyjamas, a black cami top and short set with a lace trim. Before the two men set out you always offered to make them a cup of coffee. Joel always gave you a wink after thanking you, in return he gave you butterflies.

On another occasion, you’d just gotten out of the shower and you were sat on the side of your bed with a towel wrapped around you, putting moisturiser on your legs when Joel came upstairs to use the bathroom. He walked past your room and your eyes met his, he stilled for a moment and you could’ve sworn he lingered a bit longer than he should’ve, but he then swiftly continued his journey to the bathroom. You smiled to yourself and bit your lip. That same night all you could think about was the way he looked at you. Needless to say your hand found its way between your legs quicker than you’d like to admit.

The next evening, your friends had invited you out for a catch up and a sort of welcome home night out together. You dressed up in a tight fitting black dress mini that sat off the shoulders with long sleeves. Paired with black strappy heels and a little black shoulder bag. You felt good to be going out with friends not worrying about how to behave or looking at someone the wrong way, just free to do what you wanted.

At the bar your group had chosen, this guy kept looking you up and down from the bar, oh boy you knew where this was leading, and you were gonna follow suit. He was cute enough and recently there was only one thing on your mind, you knew you could never get what you wanted with Joel, so random guy from the bar would make do. You headed over to the bar and ordered a drink. “Make that two!” The guy called to the bartender. You both chatted away over the loud music, not really paying attention to what he was saying anyway. Eventually you both decided to cut the bullshit and head back to yours.

When the two of you got back to your dads, you fumbled around in your purse for your key and eventually opened the door. His hands were on you immediately, pulling down the neckline of your dress exposing your breasts. Images of Joel flashed in your mind wishing it was him who was fondling you. But this would do for now as a temporary fix.

You both stumbled into the living room, the room was tinted orange from the soft glow of the streetlight outside. You bumped into the arm of the sofa and pulled him down on top of you. You were giggling but you were trying to keep quiet and you were in also in a rush, it had been so long since someone had touched you. His hands grabbed at your tits and gave your nipples a pinch. “What about your dad?” He asked between breathy kisses.”

“Sleeping, shh.” Was all you replied. He nodded and was clearly also in a hurry as his shirt was whipped off his body in a flash and then he began to unbutton his pants, he started to pull up your dress when the front door swiftly opened and clicked shut and in walked Joel fucking Miller.

You’d never asked his name, and frankly you didn’t care, but the half naked guy shot up from the sofa, fear riddled his face. “Ah shit, look man I’m sorry. She asked me to come home, I promise we weren’t gonna do anything.” He kept rambling on, trying to make up some excuse. The shock of Joel catching you like this paralysed you momentarily, unable to think or move. Then you snapped out of it and quickly pulled up the top of your dress to cover yourself.

“Get out.” Was all Joel said, his voice was deep and gravely and his eyes not leaving yours once. The guy scrambled to dress himself again and get out of the house. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Hey no hang on, you can’t tell me what to do. He can stay.”you tried to stand up for yourself but the guy was already wriggling out of your grasp and headed to the door apologising profusely as he rushed past Joel. You thought Joel was gonna attack him as he was breathing heavily through his nose. Joel’s whole demeanour changed and you had never seen him like this, of course it was turning you on even more, how could it not? Joel’s eyes returned to you.

“Him, really?” He looked at you with disgust his words like venom spitting from his mouth. You clenched your thighs together. God why did this make you even hornier?

“Oh my god, Joel, you’re not my dad!” Your hands covered your face from embarrassment. “Why are you here anyway it’s like one in the morning?” You asked him trying to keep your voice down.

“Your dad left his tools at mine, he needs them early, and I couldn’t sleep.” He nonchalantly replied. Your eyes dropped down to see the toolbox in hand. Okay it was a bit of a weird alibi but you went along with it. “So I thought I’d be nice and drop ‘em off for him. But don’t go changin’ the subject, you’ve not even been home a week? And you’re already causin’ trouble. I knew you hadn’t changed.” He spat at you with disgust. “Lettin’ some silly little boy get his hands on you in your dads home, while he’s asleep? He’ll be so disappointed.” Joel’s head turned in the direction of the stairs.

“No, no, no no no.” You waved your hands out in-front of you. “Seriously though, you’re not gonna tell him?” You looked at him searching for an answer. “Joel what the fuck? I can do what I fucking want, if I want to fuck someone I can, it’s my body I’ll do what I want with it.”

“Shut your mouth!” He suddenly grabbed you by the throat and squeezed ever so slightly. Fear shook your body but you could feel your wetness pooling, you clenched your thighs again to feel some form of release. A moan was caught in your throat, and then it hit you. The realisation. Joel was jealous.

“You fucking pervert, Miller.” You said to him. Joel only squeezed tighter. “You just didn’t like the thought of me with another guy, that’s right isn’t it? You’re a jealous old man.” He pushed you back down onto the sofa by the throat. His hand felt so good wrapped around your neck, you were disappointed by the loss.

“I said shut your fucking mouth you little brat.” His body caged you in as he towered over you and pointed a thick finger to your face.

“Make me.” You bravely replied, with an eyebrow raised. You were almost challenging him.

“You really wanna try that shit with me?” Joel’s eyes had darkened and his voice deepened.

“I said, make, me”. You repeated and then a sharp slap stung you across the left side of your face then his large hand grabbed your jaw. Your eyes widened with shock, once more you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

“Fuckin’ knew you were still a little brat. And the way you been walkin’ round wearin’ next to fuckin’ nothin’. You knew exactly what you were doin’ ain’t that right doll? Knew I couldn’t keep my eyes off ya.” Joel grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you back up, he then took your spot and brought you down over his knee. His large hands pulled up the skirt of your dress exposing your ass to him. He brought his hand down on your cheek a loud slap echoed through the living room. A sharp gasp broke through your mouth, his hand felt so good, the sting painful but pleasurable at the same time. You bit your lower lip hard stopping yourself from moaning and god forbid waking up your dad. Joel quietly chuckled. “You’re lovin’ this ain’t you doll? You filthy little thing.” You nodded and moved your hips trying to grind yourself against his thigh. “This what you wanted? How many times you thought about me? ‘Bout the things I could do to you? Huh?”

“T- too many.” You replied shamefully, your face and ass stinging from the contact. He continued spanking you making your behind tender and sore. He then yanked down your black panties exposing your aching pussy to him. You were ashamed just how much this was turning you on, you were dripping.

“Such a pretty little cunt. Dripping for me and I’ve not even touched you yet.” He then pressed two fingers against your folds to smear your juices around. A soft moan came from your mouth. “Mmm, could bury myself in you right now you’re so wet.”

“Joel, please I need you. I need you so bad.” You whined, aching for him. He then helped you up off his knee and turned you to face him. His hands made quick work of helping you out of your dress, when it reached the floor you stepped out and kicked it away.

“Look at you. So perfect.” Joel complimented as his hand palmed his growing bulge. “I will ruin you. Do you realise that, doll? Are you sure that’s want you want?” Joel questioned. “I’m tellin’ ya now sugar, if we do this I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself.” You could tell that he needed you just as much as you needed him. “All you’ll be able to think about is how my cock tears your pretty little pussy up.”

“Joel, please.” You begged, he looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “I’ve wanted you for so long you have no idea.” Under the soft orange street light you could see a devilish grin plastered across his face. “Always thought about what you could do to me.” You watched as Joel began undressing himself, he pulled down his jeans and his boxers. His thick cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach. You bit your lip as you watched it twitch. His hand gripped his length and he began pumping gently. Joel’s free hand was on you once more as he turned you around and guided your throbbing core over him.

“Now, sugar, you’re gonna fuck yourself on me, show me how bad you want this.” Your cheeks flushed red as you lifted a leg up onto the sofa for balance as you lowered yourself onto him. The stretch he provided was painful yet deliciously, you whimpered while you accommodated his thickness. “Ooh my, g- god.” He moaned as you finally took all of him inside. His hands found their way under your ass to help you as you started to bounce.

“Fuck, Joel.” You whined as you rode him. “You feel so big.” Soft sounds of skin slapping could be heard as Joel began to match your rhythm. He wrapped an arm around your waist and his hand found purchase on your breast, he squeezed firmly.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me, doll.” Joel whispered his praise to you as you bounced on his cock. “If only your daddy knew what his precious little angel was doing right now.” As if on cue, your dads bedroom door opened and then his shuffling footsteps slowly followed him down the stairs. “Shh, shhh. Gotta keep quiet babygirl.” Joel whispered in your ear. “Can’t have your daddy finding you like this can we?” He pulled you down to lay beside him, hiding both of you behind the big cushions on the sofa. His left hand was clamped tight around your mouth and his right was working at your clit, rubbing perfect circles that sent waves of pleasure all over your body. Joel had you pressed tight against his chest, he was still stuffed balls deep inside you, slowly thrusting. Your eyes rolled back, as Joel’s lips attacked your neck, sucking on the same spot. Your dad had reached the bottom of the stairs and then switched on the light in the kitchen and the tap began to run.

Joel continued to fuck you painfully slowly. Each trust driving you insane with need, he’d pull his hips back so his tip was barely inside then he’d push all the way in. A squeal escaped from your mouth through Joel’s hand and your eyes widened. The tap stopped running. Your heart plummeted. Joel only continued rubbing your clit. You tried to swat his hand away, afraid you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. He of course ignored you and the action only spurred him on more. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you knew what was coming. Joel could feel it too, your walls fluttering around him, he rubbed your clit faster to get you closer. You were trapped under his hold, unable to do anything but give in to the pleasure he was providing. Then it hit you, your eyes shut tight as you came harder than you ever had before, his hand pressed harder into your face as more moans left your mouth. Your legs spasmed and trembled from the aftershock. Joel then removed his hand from your clit but he still continued thrusting, working you through your orgasm as your walls clenched around him, Joel huffed and bit down on your earlobe even he was trying to control himself.

Finally your dad left the kitchen, but he paused by the living room for what felt like forever, then he turned and ascended the staircase. As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut Joel pulled out and you almost cried at the loss. He shimmied out from behind you and got off the couch. He then wrapped his muscular arms around your legs and roughly pulled you towards the edge of the sofa and you let out a soft giggle. Joel then spread your legs apart allowing him better access, he positioned himself in front of your cunt and rubbed his painfully hard cock against for folds, slapping it against your clit occasionally. He then aligned his cock with your entrance and slammed his hips forward, knocking the air out of your lungs. He relentlessly rutted into you, his balls slapping against your ass. “Bet’cha that stupid little boyfriend of yours couldn’t make you feel this good?” Joel’s tone was lowered, but you could hear the need in his words, the need to please you.

You violently shook your head. “He never made me cum.” You admitted. “He couldn’t do it. I always faked it too.” You felt guilty but it was the truth, he just couldn’t get you over the edge. A low chuckle came from Joel at your admission.

“Fuckin’ knew he was useless.” Joel grinded into you, his tone almost angry, his eyes were trained on your cunt. You looked down too and watched as his thick length repeatedly disappeared inside you. That familiar feeling deep inside began to build once more. Joel moaned also losing himself in the pleasure. “Mmm, gonna cum for me again aren’t you?” You moaned a mhm as a pathetic response unable to form your words. You reached out to grab onto the back of the sofa with one hand, the other pressed flat against the cushions to steady yourself. Your mind was dizzy with lust and desire as the band snapped and tingles coursed through your body. “See that, fuck babygirl, you can’t fake that, how tight your pussy grips me. Feels like heaven.” He groaned at how your cunt contracted around him tightly.

You watched Joel’s face as he slowed his pace to pull back a little. He lowered his head slightly and then spit onto your pussy, his saliva trailed down from your clit to your entrance. Joel groaned as he then fucked into you hard and fast. “Oh- oh my go- god!” You moaned out in breathy rasps.

“Looked so pretty at the bar, sugar.” Joel mumbled. “The way you were dancin’, knew I had to have you.” He continued, your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised. “Then that pathetic idiot got his hands on you, I could barely watch, nearly gave him a black eye right there.” Joel fully gave into his need and continued slamming his cock into you again and again.

Joel’s thrusts then started becoming sloppy, his rhythm was lost as his climax was closing in. “Fuck, doll, don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He pants, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Seeing him losing his control would probably have been enough to make you cum again. You placed a hand on the side of his neck and pulled him down closer you, his hand gripped your waist and his other pressed against the back of the sofa. The angle was perfect, causing you to become even tighter for him. A deep moan erupted from Joel as he was nearing his release. He removed his hand that was on your waist and brought his thumb to your mouth. “Open.” He ordered, and you obeyed, opening your mouth to allow his thumb inside. You sucked on it and he pulled it out with a pop. He began rubbing your clit with his wet thumb, your legs quivered from the contact.

You could tell Joel was trying to stop himself from spilling into you, but he didn’t need to hold on much longer as your own climax finally broke through. You couldn’t hold it in anymore and a string of pornographic moans came from you. Joel couldn’t last any longer either, the way your cunt squeezed him after your orgasm sent him over the edge. He too moaned loudly as his hips jerked while he unloaded himself deep inside you. He fell forwards slightly and used his hand that was pressed against the sofa to balance himself, Joel stilled momentarily to catch his breath before quickly pulling out.

Joel’s eyes were locked on your face, he thought you looked perfect. “I could watch this forever.” His gaze then broke and trailed down to your puffy cunt, cum was leaking out of your hole. He reached his right hand and his finger traced up and down smearing his juices all over. “You look so pretty like this, all fucked out an’ silly, and it’s all for me.”

You were still comprehending what had just happened when Joel bent down and placed a soft kiss to your temple. “You did so good for me, doll.” He praised, then he grabbed his pants and dressed himself. He shot you a wink and left you on the sofa dripping and fucked out of your mind. The front door quietly clicked shut and you heard the soft hum of his engine fade away.

Thank you for reading! 🖤

[boyfridged]

thank you, @tasonpjodd for your generous donations to spotlighted campaigns! if anyone would like to help out, please check my list. i am currently taking prompts for ficlets in exchange for proof of support of palestinians' fundraisers. details here. below -- the requested ficlet: dick and jason reconnecting after jason's return. once again -- thank you, dear! enjoy.

&you need a shovel (1435 words, sketch*)

When Bruce told him, months before: “I’m sure. The body wasn’t there,” Dick thought: bullshit. That was bullshit, and Bruce probably dug up his little brother’s grave for nothing, and… And perhaps it was reasonable. The only way to know for sure. 

“You’re not going to do it,” Donna told him, her voice muffled. 

And he was not going to. 

A flock of birds passed somewhere above, their caws so loud he could hear the cry with the doors closed, through the glass. 

“Where even are you?” Her voice cracked on the line again. 

“In a car,” he replied, impassive. A car. Nothing like the nice models he used to drive and show off. Not even a license plate permanently attached.

“Going to?” 

He looked out of the window, at the empty road, emptier, blackened acres surrounding it, and finally, at the distant city skyline. Then, he looked at the map plastered on his windshield and the pastel blue notes attached to it, thinking.

“Dick. Where are you staying? I thought you were with Bruce.”

Not far. The dots and connecting them lines sketched with a dark marker concentrated in the heart of Ocean County, New Jersey. Whatever they say about Rome.

“Or are you still looking for him?”

“No.” Because about that, she was right. Jason would come, if he wanted. He had to know he could, so– “It’s just a murder case.” Or five. 

She stayed silent for a split second, but with Blüdhaven razed to the ground, he could easily predict where the conversation was going. Everyone asked the same questions, wearing the same sympathetic face of grief. No one knew his.

“I have to go.”

“Dick–”

He hung up. There was nothing to say about Blüdhaven.

***

And then there is Gotham. With his childhood and family that can be traced back there like a murder trail. 

The case he’s been studying is colourless, no spandex in sight, but if it turns out to be more, he will not be surprised. Still, for now, he finds himself enjoying the bare bones detective work, something he also liked in his time- his time undercover with BPD. 

The victims do not exactly fit one profile. Four of them are rich, yes, the old money kind. That got the local cops working. The timeline Dick has written down, leaning over the console, reviews that in detail. They were first declared missing, with speed that only cash of their families could buy. Then, body parts appeared in Gotham dumpsters, as if strategically. A stomach and a hand. A loose head and a pair of lungs. 

Weeks of prodding lead to the next piece of jigsaw as if it was destined to fall into a missing spot in a finite formula, still loose but undoubtedly in place. The man; the crime; the date, aligning flawlessly. 

So Dick arrives at the driveway of Lehman’s off-city property, west of Bristol, not entirely sure what he’s expecting, a scenario after scenario pushing at him like a headache. There was already a suspicion growing at the back of his mind, or his heart, a hope, a wrong word given the circumstances– 

So perhaps the image that haunted both his dreams and waking hours. A boy, still just a boy, his frame unsteady, flickering on a rattling train, a boy on a trapeze, a boy calling him from the other side of the road only to disappear after a blink, a boy at his kitchen table, a boy in the coffin, more charcoal ash than a boy, or still a flame that goes out too quickly. A boy falling, cascades of dazzling colours and fingers slipping out of his own. 

He presses the brakes at the open gate. The tyres stagger on the cobblestone. 

This is not a watercolour of Dick’s grieving mind,  but a young man, shielding his bare eyes from the lights of the car, his hand fixated on a gun. 

For a second, Dick forgets how to breathe. His knuckles turn unnaturally pale on the wheel. He has to meet his own, bloodshot eyes in the rearview to confirm that they are open at all; that what he is seeing is real.

He gets out, willing himself to check the surroundings, and there it is, a shape of a victim on the ground, a red mess of limbs, right behind Jay. Jay, no mask on his face and posture so rigid that Dick takes his next step almost in slow motion, as if approaching a startled animal. 

“That’s– you,” Jay says and the initial shock in his voice, raspy, with a single odd note of youth, slips into chagrin that Dick would rather pretend to be the sustained surprise. 

“That’s me,” He confirms, and he too sounds almost foreign to himself. The casualness of it all is  inappropriate. 

He sticks his hands in his pockets. 

Jason’s hand remains close to the gun, the only visible weapon on him. Other than that- nothing. He’s wearing a black sweater, out of all things, a bit rough, a striped scarf, no gloves, jeans. He is not dressed for the weather, and definitely not for the activity. 

There is last hoarfrost on the already greening grass. Maybe this is why Jason pulls the sleeves over his hands, ignoring the newly acquired stains. 

“Where’s your–”

“I’m in the middle of something, so unless–” Jason begins at the same time. It’s acidic, or an attempt at. A challenge. 

“Unless what?” He questions, still standing there like a directionless pole. Unless he is there to stop him, maybe? 

Mere months ago, Dick stood and watched a man get shot, static. 

It is too late to stop anything. 

Lehman is very much dead. Not only is he dead, but in an interrupted process of being dismembered. Blood is soaking into the ground where a leg lies, and it is grotesquely bright, the type of brightness only a bone on display can seem to emit. 

And Jason’s expression is indescribable, just for a moment, carefully blank. Then he kneels next to the body, takes a loud breath in and closes his eyes. As if looking at Dick causes him great pain. Or– he could be praying, Dick thinks, hysterically, but there’s a frown building at Jason’s forehead to disprove this theory. His eyelids snap back open quickly enough too, and he reaches for the saw. He finds the slit of the injury on the body’s arm and pushes through with ferocious expertise that should not be so impressive. 

There is a bit of an uncomfortable slide to it under pressure. Dick does not think. He comes up and stomps on the loosely opened hand to stabilise the corpse. It’s firm under his boot. 

“This is a mess.” Dick says, like this is a thing to focus on- But his little brother has never liked messes. 

Jason’s eyes flicker to the side, at a gasoline tank he must have brought with, like it’s an ever-reliable answer. 

“I don’t… I don’t get what you’re doing,” Dick adds, despite the understanding dawning on him. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing.” 

“Excuse me— I’ll let you know,” He replies, his voice still distant, just a hint of humour ringing out excruciatingly, too close to conscience, “I have worked plenty cases like this.” Usually arresting the offender, not helping them. The irony is not lost on him. “And it will be hard to smoulder it enough. Better bury him.” 

The grit of the saw comes to a momentary stop, the idea taken into consideration.

“Why? You got a shovel?” Jason mocks.

“I do.” 

There is a moment of silence. Dick would be too ashamed to admit that momentarily, he feels something like a shadow of satisfaction– or confidence, reinstilled. Yet, the tick of vanity cannot last in the face of vulnerability embodied. 

Jason’s wide grey eyes look up at him, properly for the first time, a trace of apprehension not disguised. 

“Where’s your… Car? Bike?” Dick asks, which earns him no response but another dubious look.

The thought that Jason walked eighty minutes on foot, just to slaughter this guy– It is becoming realistic. 

“Right.”

There’s a crumpled pile of black trash bags on the curb. Dick opens one, and gestures around.

“How about we- pack it up. And drive up into the forest.” 

Everything in Jay’s pose – the stubborn silence, how he bites at his lips, the tension of his jaw and arms, promises rejection. 

But when Dick extends a hand, he takes it at once. 

His brother’s- Dick’s now too, their hands, slide, sticky and red. And Dick helps Jason up.

*this ficlet will see a full-length version sometime this year, under the same title. for now -- thank you for reading. support gaza.

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! Part. 7 (Catwin motorcycle au)

Warning: Esther Finch :'')

Getting dressed for a church picnic he does not want to attend, is easily the most depressing thing Edwin's done in a while. It feels like he's preparing for some sort of public execution. 

20 minutes into feeling sorry for himself, he resolves to snap out of it. There's nothing to say he even has to stay that long. He's a grown man, he can come up with an excuse to leave if he so chooses. Yes, he’s a grown man, so he needs to stop nodding at himself in the bathroom mirror. 

His nerves are getting the best of him, as they so often do, he massages his temples to expel the stress headache that's forming. He can feel his mood darkening with each passing moment, if he doesn't get it under control, he'll be miserable company for the entire day.   

The weather’s predicted to stay a bit chilly, so he dresses in charcoal slacks, paired with a deep navy dress shirt. No (bow)tie today, 5 days a week for school is enough. He matches a black pair of shoes with a grey overcoat, inspects the outfit in the mirror. Dark, yes. More suited for winter.  But he really only owns muted colors. Oranges, bright reds and light browns don't really make an appearance in his wardrobe, which probably contributes to his reputation as a cranky recluse.  Besides being reclusive and cranky, of course.  

He splashes a bit of hair treatment around to shape his hair, running a comb through it until he looks presentable. Well, he thinks, with a final nod. Now, or never.   

The Port Townsend Church is only two miles from his house, so Edwin opts for the method of getting there that will take the longest; walking. He barely remembers at the last second, to give a wave goodbye to Thomas in the driveway, the short motion of his hand as absent as the stray thought of how near domestic the quick action was. Edwin strides just a bit more briskly until he rounds the corner of the street. He walks more leisurely after, until he sees the church looming in the distance, tall, traditional, cold. It was built when the town was first settled all those years ago,  has remained a major landmark ever since. With every excuse they can feasibly come up with, the social and political elite file in and around, to see and more importantly be seen by others.  Esther Finch is very much recognized as holding a seat at the top of the hierarchy, though she has no official title to speak of.  

The church sits right in the center of town, in front of it a sprawling, meticulously maintained lawn, big enough to fit two whole soccer fields, or one extravagant picnic. Esther wasn't lying, the whole town has turned out for this event, en masse. The streets are lined with parked cars, the sidewalks crowded with those still arriving, the air smells of barbecued food, grease, and sugar from the cotton candy machine. 

Immediately, Edwin spots a few of his students, their parents. They greet him with warm smiles, some of them are even genuine.  

The picnic is quite loud and crowded, Edwin can feel a general unease settling in his gut. He was never extremely fond of crowds, in a town like this, a crowd tends to mean no escape: you just have to grin and bear it.  

In his peripheral vision, he spots a large, immaculate picnic table, clearly the one Esther has claimed for herself, surrounded by her group of disciples. They're all there, with cocktails, no food in sight, expensive handbags laid out on the table, in sight. They are all wearing the latest fashions, perfectly tailored, made up to an exquisite degree. Wax statues couldn’t peer with their skin. Esther perches in the middle of the nest, her blonde hair done up high, her makeup startling, violent. They all look to her with adoration, laughing when she laughs, leaning in close when she speaks, casting wary, judging eyes on all other attendants at the picnic.   

Oh God, she's spotted him. Edwin sees her faux-whisper to the table, and they all grin, eyeing him like a piece of meat, taking a synchronized sip from their respective drinks.   

“Edwin, darling!" Esther approaches, arms out, and he's forced into a half-hug, while she plants a kiss on each of his cheeks. "I'm so glad you could come, you really must join me at my table, the girls are just dying to talk to you." She insinuates an arm around his elbow, and begins to escort him across the green. 

"Mr. Payne, sir!"   

Oh thank God. 

Edwin stops in his tracks, probably too forcefully, because Esther stumbles a bit, though she manages to turn her sharp anger into a mildly perturbed look, all in a disturbing dangerously quick flash. Dashing across the field towards them, is none other than her own son, Monty Finch, so Edwin figures she’s hard pressed to show any real emotion, other than the perfectly palatable mix of proud and doting mother, beset by her beloved child, imploring her attention. 

"Mr. Payne, hello!" Monty practically chirps, a smile on his face. Edwin notes he barely glances at his mother. As such, the young man misses his mother’s exaggerated eye-roll, while he pulls out a familiar tome, but Edwin doesn’t need to be watching her face to know she’s displeased, with the way her nails dig into his elbow like talons. Undeterred, or simply used to surviving under extreme atmospheric pressure, Monty chatters on, his enthusiasm a very welcome distraction. Edwin leans over the boy’s shoulders, engages him, the most open interest he’s ever shown, as the teen asks him if he’s had a good day yesterday, while flipping through the pages of charts and notes, and did he notice any positive effect from Saturn’s position? When Edwin asks if Monty’d been so kind as to look up his horoscope, for the day, as he’s quite curious, the young man beams at him over his shoulder, nails prick deeper in Esther’s clenching grip, and Edwin ignores her prim tutting, waits for Monty to flip through to the prepared page with an encouraging smile. 

Things should go extremely well for you today, Capricorn, so don't shy away from anything. In fact, take this opportunity to shine as brightly as you can! Crank up your battery and project yourself into the world. You'll find that your smile is contagious, so feel free to use it often. There's a great deal of power behind your self-confidence, enabling you to tackle just about every job with energy. 

“Well, that’s a rather good one, isn’t it? Thank you, Monty, I appreciate it.” Edwin offers, bringing his free hand down on the teen’s shoulders in a gentle squeeze. "You’re welcome, sir! Oh! Have you heard? Jenny got a C+ on her last lit test, she showed me her flash cards, the ones you proposed she make, and it was just so clever, I even learned a little myself!" 

"Imagine that." Esther coos, patience obviously run out, with a barely veiled tone of condescension. She has never approved of Ms. Green, probably because of the rumored divorce she slapped her husband with. It was a well-known fact that Esther did not approve of divorce; it personally offended her on some deep, emotional level, no matter the cause. "I pity that girl, growing up without a real fatherly influence." She turns as she speaks, none too gently tugging on Edwin’s arm. “At least she doesn’t have any brothers, imagine.” 

"They seem to be doing well enough," Edwin offers, struggling to keep the disgust out of his voice. He directs a parting smile and wave to Monty as Esther drags his feet over the grass.  

"Oh yes, they seem fine now, but when they grow up… Again, for the best it’s a girl, at least. Well, you know what happens to boys raised without a strong, masculine influence."  She raises her eyebrows. "It's just a natural fact, they grow up funny. You know." She pats his arm, sighs. 

The queasy feeling in his stomach has increased ten-fold by now. This is far worse than he thought it would be. By God, this woman is like a cartoon: how can one person be so wrong about so many things, so quickly? She makes it look effortless, to be filled with this much casual contempt for good people. And Edwin's about to sit with her, at her table, pretend to be satisfied by her company. He's a coward. He hates himself.   

At first, he thinks he's imagining the drone of an engine. But as it gets louder, Edwin realizes with a jerk that he recognizes the particular pitch, and isn’t that a revelation. Yes, it's Thomas's motorcycle, over there in the road. Pulling up to the curb, parking.   

His cheek-wide smile is barely roped back into a more appropriate expression of mild amusement.   

He can't believe Thomas is here.  

[exitrowiron]

We had our driveway resealed yesterday. The asphalt was installed two years ago so it was time. I've done this myself at our previous home, but the cold mix you can get at the hardware store isn't as effective as the hot tar the pros use.

This two man crew did a great job and were done in an hour. The little truck thing didn't do much except keep the tar hot and then sploosh a big puddle which the men spread by hand. Of course one of the men was smoking while he did this - his lungs must surely resemble charcoal briquettes.

As I watched the men work I could help but imagine @trivialbob asking if he could drive the little tar truck.

[janksfatass]

Pt. 1

Warnings: Tumultuous marriage, nothing spicy… yet.

Word Count: 1700

F!Reader x OC, F!Reader x Jake

Plot: Reader is in a loveless marriage and attends a charity event at a mansion for her husband’s new job. She decides to explore and ends up meeting the owner of the home. He then takes her on his own tour. Was she getting in over her head?

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing? We were supposed to leave 10 minutes ago!”

You sit up from fastening your heel and take a deep breath before responding, “I’m coming down now!” You grab your clutch off the bed and take one last look in the mirror to preen and check for any imperfections.

Tonight was some sort of charity ball that your husband was invited to by his coworkers at a new consulting firm. You had met Steven in college and from the beginning your relationship was never built on passion or love but rather logic. He was smart, getting a degree in something admirable and not to mention easy on the eyes. After graduation you had the picture perfect wedding and bought a house with the proverbial white picket fence. That was a year ago. Now your days mostly consist of going running your boutique and coming home to make dinner (which you more often than not eat alone). Then winding down with a glass or two of wine and your trusty rose. Sex wasn’t really a component of your marriage anymore. With Steven’s long hours you hardly spent any time together at all and when you did it was mostly spent screaming at each other. This isn’t the life you had pictured for yourself at 25 but it is what it is.

You make your way down the steps and there is Steven waiting for you in his all black suit with a silver mask covering half of his face.

“Let’s go, we're already late.” He grabs your arm and practically drags you out to the car that’s been waiting on you. You wince at his touch, “Why is it so important that we’re exactly on time anyways? Isn’t it just a party?”

“It’s not just a party, it's THE party. Everyone important will be there and it’s a prime opportunity to network, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Ok then…” you climb into the car and place your clutch in your lap.

The ride there was uncomfortably silent but not unusual. Steven pulls onto a side road that leads up a mountain. The road begins as gravel and then becomes paved about halfway up. At the very top sits a large white brick mansion with black trim. The mass of a driveway is lined with Bentleys, McLarens and the like, meanwhile you’re sitting in a 5 year old Mercedes C class.

“Who’s house is this?” You ask.

“Don’t worry about it, come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you out of the car up to the double doors which are being guarded by a large bald man.

“Password?”

“Luna.” Steven replies in a semi hushed tone.

The man opens the doors and you both walk inside. You’re greeted by a massive foyer with a double staircase that looks like it belongs in a vampiric film. The interior of the home almost takes your breath away. Charcoal walls, black marble floors, silver accents adorning the room and crystal chandeliers half the size of your car hanging over your head.

Soft jazz is coming from a room nearby. You follow Steven to the ballroom where you see about 200 people. Some standing in groups talking and some gliding with one another across the floors.

You turn to Steven,“Can we get a drink?”

“You go ahead I’ll be over here.”

You roll your eyes and make your way to the bar. You greet the bartender, “Hi, can I get a glass of champagne please?” He acknowledges your order and you turn around to scope the room. Middle aged men and their too young wives. Decrepit Vanderbilt types that resemble walking corpses. The amount of money in this room could probably end poverty for the whole country. Doctors, lawyers, philanthropists, businessmen, and a few that you wouldn’t be shocked if they were involved with organized crime, all mingling amongst each other.

You finish your drink and spot your husband across the room and walk over to him. He continues his conversation as though you weren’t even there, not even taking a moment to introduce you. After 20 minutes of conversations about new businesses and architecture, you grow increasingly bored.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You give the group a polite smile and nod then go back into the foyer to ask the doorman where the bathroom is.

“Up the stairs, to the left and then it’s the first door on your right.”

You walk up the staircase and enter the bathroom. You’re immediately drawn to the giant mirror encased in an ornate frame of delicately carved flowers and foliage. Jesus this guy is ridiculous. As you sit, you look around and your mind starts to drift thinking about what kind of man would have a home this extravagant. ‘He probably has a trophy wife with big fake tits and a bbl. Maids and chefs to do all the work while she sits and looks pretty. What a fucking dream.’ You finish up and wash your hands. When you re enter the hallway you decide to explore a little. Steve won’t even notice you’re gone honestly.

You begin to peek into the rooms down the hall, noting the spacious bedrooms and also a theater room. What really grabs your attention is the study. You step into the room and the walls are top to bottom shelves filled with books. You notice a few familiar names, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, The Alchemist, etc. You walk around the desk and see out on the balcony there’s a small seating area and a large telescope pointed at the sky. You step outside and begin looking through it, searching for constellations.

“Lovely night isn’t it?” You jump at the raspy voice coming from behind you and quickly spin around.

“Y-yea it is. It’s very clear tonight. Not a cloud in the sky.” Your throat is dry as you eye up the man.

He’s small in stature but appears fairly sturdy nonetheless. The top half of his face is covered with a black mask but you can see a neatly trimmed mustache sitting above his heart shaped lips. His long hair pulled back into a bun. Very well dressed. Donning a gray suit. He has on black button down with what appears to be only the bottom two buttons secured, revealing a smooth chest that he’s decorated with a few necklaces that hold coin pendants. He has an Italian leather belt around his waist that matches the loafers on his feet.

“This is my second favorite room in my home. Especially on nights like tonight.”

“This house is YOURS?!” You choke out.

“You seem surprised. Why?”

“I guess I expected an old crusty bastard to live in something like this. Something so… over the top.”

“Well that’s one thing about me. I tend to have a habit of enjoying the more lavish things this life has to offer.” He takes a sip of what appears to be whiskey in his glass.

“I can see that… You said this is your second favorite room. What is your favorite?”

“I could tell you.. but I think I’d rather show you. Would you like a tour?” He asks and you notice he’s now returning the favor of eyeing you up and down. Seemingly taking a few extra moments on your curves and specifically the neckline of your dress that cuts just below your sternum.

He extends an arm towards you. You look down at his hand as you reach for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you. Telling you that you shouldn’t go with this stranger but there’s something about him. Something Alluring... Dangerous... Sinful even. ‘Fuck it.’ You place your hand in his and instantly electricity shoots through you. It feels as though you’ve just sealed a deal with the devil himself.

He walks you through the maze that is his home, showing you a billiard room with a bar, an indoor pool, his office space, numerous guest rooms and finally, the master bedroom. Each space was decorated in a way that you’ve come to realize is very on par with his personality. Dark and luxurious. His bedroom was no exception.

He lets go of your hand and snakes his arm around you with his hand resting on your lower back. His thumb gently strokes your exposed skin. He guides you through the doorway and flicks the light switch. The room illuminates in a red glow. In the center of the room sits a four post bed with an extravagant wrought iron headboard. You notice above the bed, there’s a circular mirror on the ceiling. ‘Strange.’

“Why is there a mirror up there?” You question innocently.

“Why do you think there’s a mirror up there?” He gives you a look that immediately connects the dots in your brain and you feel your cheeks begin to flush.

“Oh right... Naturally. Okay.” You feel your throat becoming dry once again.

“Well go on, take a look around.”

You follow his instructions and begin to explore the huge room. Another bookcase that reaches the ceiling. His closet could be another bedroom in itself, filled with designer suits and Italian shoes, silk ties and rows of shirts. The bathroom contains a freestanding tub that could probably hold 4 people and the shower about 8.

“Wow. This is absolutely…” You stop yourself as your eye catches an… elevator? You walk over to it and look at him. “Where does this go?”

“The basement.” He replies matter of factly.

“What’s down there?”

“Would you like to see?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Tell me what it is first. Is it like a dungeon or something?” You laugh.

“Well…”

Your laugh instantly ceases.

He smirks at you, watching the wheels begin to spin in your head. He can tell he’s piqued your curiosity.

“Well? Well what? Is it a dungeon or not?”

“Why don’t I show you and you can be the judge of that.”

You stop for a moment to think of what awaits you. “As long as you promise not to murder me.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die.”

‘If I die, I die.’

He takes your hand again as the elevator dings and opens. The inside is wall to wall mirrors. You notice there’s only two buttons. One for his bedroom and one for wherever he’s taking you.

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Witching Hour: Chapter 3

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Witchcraft, Rituals, Cheating, Forbidden Loves, Heartbreak, Pining, Alcohol, I think that’s it?

- Chapter 2 Here -

——————————

18+ Only Beyond This Point

——————————

It took Bob a moment to realise what was happening, but when he did, his skin set ablaze and he wrapped both of his strong arms around your back, deepening the kiss.

Your fingers found purchase in his soft locks, and you let out a desperate whimper. This feeling was something else entirely. Something you had never felt before, but somehow his lips felt so familiar, and you needed more.

You pressed your body up against his and Bob moaned into your lips as he felt your soft curves against his hard muscles, his breathing growing heavy as his need for you grew. His large hands spread out across your back and pulled you into him as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip.

Suddenly the realisation of what you were doing dawned on you, and the guilt began to set in. There you were, basking in the glowing sunset, in your beautiful garden, with the gorgeous man you had these strong inexplicable feelings for, and you were pushing him away.

Bob looked at you in surprise for a moment, before he realised too, that what you were doing was wrong. He sighed, and dragged a hand down his face, screwing his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” you mumbled apologetically, your eyes flitting between Bob and the ground.

“It’s not your fault, I… I wanted to… But, I can’t do this right now.” He sighed.

Bob looked at you once more, his face a picture of pain and remorse, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite place, and his eyebrows pulled together. “I gotta go.” He murmured, turned around and left.

You stood in your garden, confused and hurt, although you had no idea why. You were the one very much in the wrong, and you felt disgusted. How could you do this? You wanted to blame the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions, but was that really just a cop out because you wanted him so badly?

You wanted to scream, but instead you willed yourself to calm down, and paced circles in your garden until the sun disappeared behind the sea.

Eventually you dragged yourself inside, and immediately coughed as smoke billowed out from the oven, and the sound of thick sloppy liquid bubbled on the stove.

“Shit.” You cursed under your breath as you ran to the oven and threw the door open. You grabbed a pair of oven mitts and gripped the now charcoaled hunk of bread between your covered hands, throwing it onto the stone floor, before you fanned desperately at the smoke to disperse it.

You then stood and quickly turned the stove off and pushed the big pot off of the hot plate, the now mostly evaporated stew a stodgy gloop stuck to the bottom of the pan and starting to burn.

You groaned angrily and walked around the house throwing windows and doors open to air out the thick black smoke. If you had actually burnt the house down, your mother would kill you, and bring you back to life just to kill you all over again.

While the smoke cleared, you stormed to the kitchen and poured the rest of the wine into a large glass. You downed half of it in one go, and then slowed to sipping as you stood next to the kitchen table, absentmindedly staring at the hunk of burnt bread on the floor.

In the midst of all the chaos, you hadn’t heard the broom clatter to the floor again, or the footsteps walking up your gravelled driveway, nor did you hear the creaking of the floorboard in the hall as whoever was in your house came ever closer.

—————————————

Bob ran a hand through his hair as he raced down your drive. He was fuelled by guilt and anger and frustration and love for someone that wasn’t his.

He needed to go back to the Bed and Breakfast and call Roxy, he needed to tell her what had happened and he definitely had to end it. He knew it would be painful, and he knew he’d feel awful, but he was also confident it was the right decision.

Once Bob reached the B&B, he grabbed his phone and paced for a while, contemplating what to say before he finally dialled the number.

It rang several times before the receiver clicked.

“Bobby, hi.” Her voice sounded surprised and hushed.

“Hi Rox, did you get home okay?”

“Yeah… got back not long ago. Look, Bobby, now isn’t a great time-“

“Rox there’s something we need to talk about.” Bob interrupted. If he didn’t do it now he feared he never would.

It was quiet on the other end of the line for a moment, but then there was an impatient sigh. “Okay, go on.” She said.

“I did something I shouldn’t have, and l’m so sorry. I’m sorry about a lot of things to be honest. I haven’t been a very good boyfriend for a while, because truth be told my heart and head have been somewhere else.” Bob mumbled.

“What do you mean?” She pressed.

“I cheated, Rox. I kissed someone else.”

She took a sharp intake of breath, “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who-“

“Who, Robert?” She demanded.

Bob sighed. “Bree Owens.”

“Who?” She scoffed, she was growing angry.

Bob was quiet, he didn’t know how to explain that the beautiful girl he’d met just days before was the reason he was making this call.

It finally clicked, “Oh my god, it’s that slut from the store, isn’t it?” She scoffed.

“She’s not a slut.” Bob defended, suddenly angry and forgetting that it was him in the wrong, and she was rightfully upset. He sighed. “It’s not her fault, Rox.”

“How is it not her fault? If it weren’t for her you would be here with me now instead of on that stupid little island sucking on that bitch’s face!”

Bob was about to speak when he heard another voice in the background, a faint male voice. Rox covered the speaker as she mumbled something quietly, before she uncovered it again.

��Look, Bob, I gotta go, but if you come home tomorrow we can talk about everything.”

“Rox I’m not coming home, not yet anyway. I… I think this is it for us. I’m sorry about everything.” Bob hung up the phone and planted his face in his hands. He sighed loudly and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he thought about the last few years.

He’d been happy with Roxy at first, of course he had. She was beautiful and confident and popular, but that wasn’t all he needed, and before long he’d began to realise that. She was never really the one.

He began to think of you again, and his lips curled into a smile as he thought about how your body felt pressed against him, your heartbeats in sync. He needed you, and as he drifted off to sleep he thought about your beautiful face and how badly he wanted to hold you.

————————————

The next morning Bob sprang out of bed early. He was excited to see you, this time minus the guilt. He felt bad about how he’d left things the night before, but he was determined to make things right.

He hopped in the shower and let the hot water flow over his toned body, as his mind wandered to you again. He felt the familiar pull inside him urging him to find you, and it was growing more and more urgent.

Bob eventually gave in and threw on a t-shirt, jeans and a cap to tame his unruly damp locks, before he was out the door and heading for your house of the cliffs.

Bob stopped by Mrs Montgomery’s and bought a bouquet of pink gillyflowers and white daisies, something that reminded him of your soft nature and how beautiful you looked in the sunshine. He felt his heart begin to thud and the pull grew more urgent.

Bob whistled as he walked up the winding road that lead to your house, and he grinned as the driveway came into view. He was planning on sweeping you off of your feet the minute you answered the door, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

Bob crossed the driveway and jogged the last few meters across your front lawn, and suddenly his face dropped when he noticed your front door was already open. He slowed and peaked his head in through the door, knocking a couple times.

“Bree?” He called into the empty house. The lights were still on, despite the daylight filtering through the large windows.

Bob walked through the door and slowly made his way into the house, calling for you as he did.

“Bree, are you home?” He called again, and the echo of his voice reverberated through the empty hall.

Bob began to panic as he searched each room, coming up empty. He checked the back, before running upstairs and checking each room. When he failed to find you anywhere, he realised that the pulling sensation wasn’t excitement but foreboding.

Bob ran back out to the front yard and paced back and forth as he considered his options. He could call the police, but what would he say? The woman he’d only met days before, who he was on his way to confess his love to, was nowhere to be found? That surely wouldn’t go well. As a detective he knew how he’d come across, and he decided his best bet was to find you himself.

He stopped and let out a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair.

He scanned the ground for any clues that might help, he made his way over to the cliff side and peered down, relieved not to find you there.

He suddenly felt a sense of dread, awful scenarios making their way through his head, gradually getting worse the longer it took him to find you.

After a while he wandered back inside the house, frustrated, and ready to call the police after all, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

He turned and walked towards the small white envelope, his name scrawled in messy hand writing.

‘Robert Floyd’

His hand began to tremble as he tore the envelope open, pulling out a single white piece of paper.

The letter was short, displaying 3 simple words;

‘Under the pier.’

—————————————

Bob ran as fast as he could down the winding road and through town. He passed confused patrons as they walked peacefully down the sidewalk, not slowing down as he allowed the pull to guide him towards you.

Even in his peak physical form, Bob was panting and out of breath as he reached the pier at the far end of the island. The pier had long been closed off to the public due to structural damage, with tape and bollards blocking the entrance.

Clouds began to darken and pull over the area as lightning lit up the distant ocean waves. There was no one around, and Bob suddenly wondered if he was in the right place. Was there another pier on the island? He was about to turn around and keep looking, when he heard the music.

Low, bassy, drum beats in the distance accompanied by a high pitched wailing noise, a woman singing.

Bob tore the tape blocking his way and squeezed past the large grey bollards, quickly making his way towards the haunting noise. The pulling sensation grew stronger and harder to ignore as the sound grew louder.

Bob ran onto the crumbling concrete of the pier and his eyes scanned the area for any signs of life. It was empty, and he couldn’t figure out where the sound was coming from.

It seemed to get louder as the wind picked up and the storm on the horizon began to brew.

He stopped and listened as he tried to control his breathing, his blue eyes frantically searching the abandoned harbour surrounding him, when suddenly, quietly, he heard you.

A muffled scream which disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but he knew it was you, and it was coming from under the pier.

Bob ran back, and jumped over onto the soft sand as thunder rumbled in the distance, the height of the fall sending him onto his stomach. Bob coughed and pushed himself onto his knees, his back to the pier, and suddenly the horrible singing and drum combo came to an abrupt stop.

As Bob stood up and turned around, finally facing the underside of the rickety old concrete jetty, his heart sank and his mouth went dry.

There you were, tied to the beams and mouth gagged, eyes pleading, and surrounded by the sisters of your coven, a ritual of some sorts, well and truly at play.

Bob had been lured, and the trap had worked.

————————————

-- Chapter 4 Here --

Notes: I’m so sorry this has taken me so long! It’s been a busy few weeks and I’ve struggled to find time to write so haven’t been at my best!

[carterashofficial]

So, what is the difference between concrete and cement? I genuinely didn't know there was one.

Okay so 1- I'm not sober right now and 2- Concrete was one of my top 3 favorite college classes (along with botany and architectural history from early gothic to 1700s-ish. yes i had a concrete class. it was required for my major)

So *Cement (the OG stuff) is like. old as balls. its been used since the dawn of time and is like. water+ chalky rock stuff. it's got the structural integrity of a saltine cracker, so if you touch it wrong it crumbles, much like my self esteem.

Then the Roman came along, looked at *Cement, and thought "i wanna make it better" and then went and invented Concrete. The One True Big Deal OverPowered Concrete recipe used in Ancient Rome has unfortunately been lost to time. However- we know the basics. Cement + Water + Fly Ash + Aggregate (you might be thinking "hang on, cement is in concrete?" it always has been). So what are these things?

Cement: the basic ingredient. its cement.

Water: H2O preferably in liquid form

Fly Ash: well-done charcoal in a Supremely Fine Powder

Fine Aggregate: sand, essentially.

Coarse Aggregate: small-medium gravel

So you mix all of these things together and you get Concrete. Unlike the fragile cement, Concrete doesn't give a damn how you touch it unless you're a jackhammer. if cement is the crumbly saltine cracker, concrete is a graham cracker. Stronger, heavier, and overall better.

back to Ancient Rome.

So Concrete has been Invented and those Romans use it to build the Colosseum, because they could and no one could stop them. deep at the bottom of the Colosseum are concrete walls like 9 feet deep. Because their structural engineering can be summed up as "lets make it an arch" and that was it. It was the only way to hold up all those wall and different levels above.

You might now be thinking "hang on Carter, why don't other giant modern buildings not have 9' deep concrete walls. b/c thats ridiculous" It's because the Romans excelled at a lot of things, however they did not use rebar. rebar in concrete started in the 1800s, which led to the boom of Tall Buildings across the globe. Like the first Skyscraper was only 10? stories.

So now we have Concrete + Rebar. just about all Concrete you see in the wild has rebar in it. your sidewalk? rebar. Driveway? rebar. the in-ground pool? Rebar.

But in that below ground pool, its not just concrete. it's Concrete + Additives/Admixtures.

Additives/Admixtures: fancy schmancy chemically engineered compounds to change various things about the concrete, such as:

Concrete cures slower

Concrete handles the expansion/contraction of ice/water better

Concrete has a different Heat of Hydration temp

Colored Concrete (i've seen red for fire lines, aka STOP DIGGING)

Before I continue, i need to explain Heat of Hydration. when the cement, the primary ingredient in concrete, cures (goes from gloop to solid), it lets off heat. it gets hot. Spicy Cement. This is why when you get cement/concrete on your clothes or skin, you're supposed to wash it off ASAP. its corrosive AF and will give you a chemical burn. which like, no bueno. supremely no bueno.

So now you know of Cement and it's better, stronger child: Concrete.

Cement is the flour of the cake that is concrete. Flour + Water? sad saltine cracker. Flour + Water + Sugar? Graham Cracker. Flour + Water + Egg + Sugar? Cake.

You mix your cement with water and aggregates and fly ash and then you've got your concrete. to make it Extra Strong, pour it over rebar. And then wash off wherever it splashed.

Now my final note: in stores across the US you can find bags of lies called 'Quikcrete'. these are not concrete. these are cement. There is no aggregates. no admixtues or additives. Despite the wrong name its a decent product. holds up fence posts really well even when you have a dog that spent 11 years trying to become one with the fence.

Now next time someone complains about the 'cement' or whatnot being chipped, you can turn to them, the soul of an ancient roman engineer in your eyes, and go "its concrete"