#dad’s big game day tips

[tentacle-therapissed]

Kids these days don’t even know about I was always more of a thrower than a catcher. What has the world come to

[dikdikpronouncedxylophone]

Patton: Arson? Oh, you mean “crime brûlée.”

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[hoenoredone]

A TYPICAL DATE

tags: sfw, fluff, headcanons, enstablished relationship characters: gojo, geto, nanami, naoya, inumaki, yuuta, noritoshi

GOJO SATORU

cat café

he's a cat dad and you're never going to convince otherwise. because of his job it's quite difficult for him to keep a pet in the house, he feels too bad leaving it all alone for days at the time (do not worry, the ball of fluff would have an automatic feeder and a self cleaning litter). so he gets his fix at a cat café. it's perfect, really: he can pet all the cats, and you can eat and drink to your heart's content while seeing him all happy and giddy.

GETO SUGURU

dinner and a movie

he's a wanted simple man, he's perfectly content setting the table while you stir fry the meat he had left in the fridge to marinate for the whole day. he'd fry up some popcorn after dinner and drizzle them in butter and salt. he loves it when you rest your head on his shoulder, especially if the movie turns out to be boring. he lets you fall asleep and does his best not to wake you at the end of the film. when nanako and mimiko make fun of him the day after for carrying you to the bed bridal style, he can only smile and ruffle their hair.

NANAMI KENTO

petit pâtisserie

he has a sweet tooth, sorry i don't make the rules. he doesn't like sickeningly sweet pastries, but a french press coffee and a slice of opéra cake are perfectly within his taste. he watches you eat an english scone with strawberry-rhubarb jam and clotted cream and sip on your darjeeling tea as he listen to you talk about whatever is on your mind. he notices some crumbs on your lower lip and tries to discretely let you know, but you're too absorbed in your own world to notice. so he gently wipes them away for you and notices a slight blush dusting your cheeks.

ZEN'IN NAOYA

michlin star restaurant

it's really not a date, it's more of an interview. he doesn't date just to date, he dates to marry. he needs to be the perfect heir for the zen'in clan, he needs a wife and a child. so he takes you to an incredibly expensive restaurant and grills you with questions. at the start it's not the most pleasant experience, but as the date goes on (if you answer his questions correctly) he loosens up and lets you speak freely. he doesn't even realize it, but he feels like he has a lot to prove, so once he decides that it's worth it he orderes his favorite wine (coincidentally the most expensive one) and shoos the waiter away to pour you a glass himself.

INUMAKI TOGE

arcade

please he loves the pinball machines, literally spends hours on them. you take turns at the claw machines to try and win each other a plushie (that riceball looks just like him? how?) and lose almost three thousand yen. he watches you play a shooter game and gets playfully annoyed when you don't listen to his tips. almost spills his coke all over one of the machines when you finally win your first game of the night. he offers you karaage to celebrate and you almost choke on the sauce when he imitates the panicked face you had during the game.

OKKOTSU YUUTA

picnic at the dog park

can he pet that dog? can he please pet that dog?? you bring the food and a table cloth, and he brings plates, cutlery, drinks and two different brands of dog treats. you could swear he spends more time looking at the dogs run around and telling you all about the specific breed than actually eating. a big fluffy maremmano runs towards him and almost knocks the picnic table over, but yuuta is ready: he grabs a duck skin treat from his pocket and hurls it to the other side of the park, but not before having pet the dog's head and having called him a good boy.

KAMO NORITOSHI

japanese tea house

he enjoys the quiet of the tea house's garden because he's not a kamo there, just noritoshi. he used to be partial to sencha tea but you insisted on ordering something different every time, and he's glad you did because he's a creature of habit, without you he wouldn't have discovered he actually prefers hojicha tea over anything else. he lets you order whatever you want, from dango to daifuku, even dorayaki once, but warabimochi remains his favorite.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Writing Isn't Flowing/Word Count Low

Anonymous asked: I saw people doing 10k words a day challenge on YouTube and it made me think about making my own writing sessions longer/more productive. Not 10k words, but something more sustainable for me. I have an outline, but I usually write about 500-800 words, rarely 1k, when the words start to feel heavy and I need to take a break. Sometimes the inspiration is there and the words flow, but more often than not I have this heavy feeling. I try not to focus on word count too much, but still think I'm writing too slow. Any tips on how to write more? 🌸

[Ask edited for length]

The first thing to look at is your outline, because people say "I have an outline" but their outline is, "Sarah wakes up and goes to school, she meets a cute guy, then later he asks her out. Then she gets in trouble in class and goes to detention. Then after school, there's a big fight. Sarah is late getting home and gets in trouble with her mom." That's not really an outline so much as a really general summary of events. An outline would be: Sarah wakes from a strange dream to the sound of her brothers arguing. After calming them down, she helps her dad get everyone fed then walks to school with her best friend Maria. Maria tells her about a cute boy she met at the library the previous evening... Outlines are more detailed so there's not as much guesswork to do when you sit down to write.

Consider your current situation, because sometimes the words aren't flowing for obvious reasons. Are you tired? Not feeling well? Distracted? Overwhelmed? Uncomfortable? Sometimes these things can be helped, like making sure you get more sleep and trying to minimize distractions, but you can't help it if you're not feeling well or if you have a lot on your mind. But, really taking the time to analyze your situation and see what you can help does make a difference.

Fill your creative well by consuming other stories (TV, movies, books, video games, etc.) and by doing creative exercises and things to help your creativity flow. Guide: Filling Your Creative Well

Try writing sprints. If you have a solid outline, a full creative well, and no obvious situational dampers to your writing, you might try doing writing sprints instead of sitting down for long writing sessions. You can experiment with how much time works best for you. Many people do 30-minute sprints, but you could do ten, fifteen, or twenty. Any number that works. So, you would choose the length, set a timer, and sit down to write until the timer goes off. When it does, you'll take a break. You might stretch for ten minutes, go for a short walk, put a load of laundry in, tidy up your room... then, you set the timer and go again. Breaking up your writing session into sprints can be a great way to keep yourself engaged and to minimize that sense of the words getting heavy.

Last but not least, if none of the above work, try reading through the relevant posts on my Motivation master list of posts.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Apple Seed 5: The Name Game

Buckle up, Buttercups. We got another long one here.

Charlie: (beginning to waddle from the cantaloupe sized bump in her belly as she makes her way towards her office) Ugh... This thing is starting to weigh a ton, and we're barely halfway there!

Vaggie: (walking with Charlie and holding her hand while rubbing her lower back) I know, babe. I know. Good news, though. You're not puking every morning and evening anymore.

Charlie: You have a good point. (enters the office and sits in her plush chair. She tries to lean over to untie her shoes but winces in discomfort, both from the baby belly pinching and how the heels are constricting on her sore hooves) *whiiiiiiiine* Vaaaaggiiiiieeeeee~

Vaggie: I gotcha, babe. Relax. (kneels down and removes the heels, watching amusingly as the hooves flex and spread in absolute glee from being freed, before sitting cross-legged on the floor and gently rubbing the soreness out of each hoof from tip to calf)

Charlie: (melts into her chair as the soreness and stiff muscles relax, tears instantly springing to her eyes) You- *sniff* You're an amazing wife, Vaggie. I don't *sniff-sniff* deserve you.

Vaggie: (rolls her eyes fondly as she continues massaging Charlie's hooves) So you say every day, hun. I'm just trying to take as much stress and ache away from you as possible.

Charlie: I say it every day because it's true...

-Pleasant silence spreads through the room-

Charlie: I have about an hour before I have to do anything.

Vaggie: (slightly perks up) Oh?~

Charlie: (wiggles excitedly) We haven't talked about baby names yet! Can we think of some now?

Vaggie: (not where her mind was going) Oh....

Charlie: Yeah! We should think of a couple to have on hand! Since we don't know the sex yet, can I-

Vaggie: Choose the girl names while I pick possible boy names?

Charlie: *gasp* How did you know?!

Vaggie: I watch you sketch names into your little baby notebook every night, babe. It's not rocket science. But, sure. I'm game. Do you want to throw a few out and the other can agree or disagree on the name?

Charlie: Yes! Okay! Me first! Rhiannon!

Vaggie: Rhiannon?

Charlie: Mm-hmm!!! And if she wants to go by a nickname like me, She can call herself Ria!

Vaggie: I guess that's alright.

Charlie: What about you?

Vaggie: Me? I don't know. I haven't thought of anything. I'm not exactly the creative type.

Charlie: Come on, Vaggie. I know you can come up with something!

Vaggie: Okay... Uh... CJ?

Charlie: CJ?

Vaggie: (blushes) Ya know... Charlie Junior?

Charlie: (big puppy eyes) Awwwww.... You want to name him after me? You're so sweet, Vaggie~ But pass. Not a fan of naming kids like that. Having you moan my name during sex would be ruined forever.

Vaggie: That's fair. (works a nasty knot out of Charlie's left calf muscle) You're turn.

Charlie: Lucy or Lily? Oh! Lucily!!!

Vaggie: After your parents?

Charlie: (nods relentlessly) Mm-hmm! My relationship with my dad has gotten a lot better since the war with the Exorcists. I think it'd be sweet.

Vaggie: You know he would cry worse than the baby when they arrive if we did that, right?

Charlie: Babe, I'M going to be crying worse than the baby when they arrive. What's your point?

Vaggie: (sarcastically) Ah, yes. The Morningstar theatrics. How could I have forgotten. (stands up, pulls a second chair over, and sits next to Charlie - gently stroking her hand over the taught skin of her belly) We're gonna have to get you new shirts and pants soon. I'm surprised we haven't had to yet.

Charlie: (groans) Don't remind me! I'm getting fat! ...Aurora?

Vaggie: Not fat, maternal. And not naming a daughter after the most useless Disney Princess. Next..... Santiago? Call him Diego for short?

Charlie: *gasp* How dare you?! Princess Aurora is.... she's..... okay, you got me there. You want to name our son after a saint? And how about Calista? Cali for short?

Vaggie: Ouph... never mind. Scratch that one..... So we go from Salvadorian to Greek names? That one's not so bad. I'm for Cali or Lucy. Rhiannon is on the fence.

Charlie: Okay, possible girl names. Check! You need to come up with one more boy name.

Vaggie: Hmmmm..... (drums her fingers gently against Charlie's belly)

Charlie: (giggles) Vaggie, that tickles.

Vaggie: (smiles) Sorry, hun. Let me see.... Well.... I'm not fully versed in the Bible or anything, but if we wanted to keep the motif of naming them after your folks. How about Samael?

Charlie: Samael? What does that have to do with my parents or the Bible?

Vaggie: Wasn't your dad's name Samael when he was in heaven? He only changed it to Lucifer after he fell???

Charlie: I.... I actually have no idea.

Vaggie: Well, we can name him Samael and call him Sammy for short? It won't be as confusing as calling him Lucifer, and I'm sure your dad will be over the moon having the baby be named after him anyway.

Charlie: (giggles again and swats Vaggie's hand off her belly) Vaggie, stop it! I said that tickles.

Vaggie: .....I didn't do anything.

Charlie: Huh?

Baby: (flutters again)

Charlie: *GASP* (holds her belly) VAGGIE, HOLY SHIT, THE BABY KICKED!!!!

Vaggie: What?! (plasters her hands to Charlie's belly)

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

Vaggie: Nothing....

Charlie: Hmmmm.... (mental lightbulb turns on) Say the name again!

Vaggie: Samael?

Baby: (little flutter)

Vaggie: ............Sammy?

Baby: (big flutters)

Charlie: (crying quiet happy tears) Okay... Sammy... We got a name. We'll just think of a boy and girl version when they're born.

Vaggie:

[bimbobaggins69]

Gamer boy (part one)

Modern!gamer Eddie Munson x babysitter fem!reader

Summary: you’re propositioned to baby sit by your father, but it’s for Eddie “the freak” Munsons niece. You had history, but now you can’t even stand being near him. Will you both be able to put aside your distain? Or will a little gaming bet, bring you closer than ever before?

⚠️series warnings: eventual smut 18+ mdni, angst, friends to enemies to lovers, mutual pining, mean!eddie, slight fuck!boy eddie, cocky eddie, gaming bets in exchange for sexual acts, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, slight degradation, choking, hair pulling, spit play, spanking, dom!eddie.

A/N: this was going to be a one shot, but then I go more and more ideas so I’m turning into a little series 💚 (remember to tip your writers, with a reblog and comment)

You couldn’t believe this was happening, you wanted to be emancipated. How could your dad do this to you? Why you?

Okay, that’s probably really dramatic. But, it was warranted.

It was a beautiful Thursday morning, birds were chirping, coffee was brewing and your mom was making her famous French toast. You haven’t felt this happy in a while, little did you know that metaphorical rug of happiness was about to be ripped from under you.

“Y/n, can you come in here?” Your dad yelled from his office down the hall

The only time your father ever called you into his office to talk, was always about something serious or a proposition he wanted to tell you about. Not ask, never ask. You didn’t have a choice in his “business proposals” at least that’s what they felt like to you.

Shuffling over your feet as your heart rate picked up. You made it into the big office, oak wood shelves filled with books your dad never had time to read. He was leaning back in his black leather chair behind his big oak wood desk, with a look of contentment on his face, it made a shiver run down your body.

“Yes, dad?” You say as you look down at the desk in front of you.

“I have a job I need you to do.” He says with a small chuckle

“Okay, what is it?” You cock your head like a puppy full of curiosity

“Well, I need you to baby sit for one of my employees. It’ll be from tonight to Sunday night.” He says

“This weekend? But dad it’s a three day weekend, I had plans with friends.” You say as if you can’t even believe he’s telling you this. I mean maybe it would make a difference if he was asking and not telling, but either way you were upset.

“Sorry, kiddo. I already told him you would. Can’t go back on my word, all a man has is his word.”

You roll your eyes, and cross your arms over your chest.

“Fine, who’s kid?”

“Wayne Munsons, he’s going out of town on a business trip for me. He has a daughter she’s about three and his usual sitter isn’t able to do it, something about her being an older lady, so I offered up your help since you use to babysit the neighborhood kids. He’s leaving at 9 tonight so you’ll need to be over there by 8:30”

“Wayne Munson? As in Eddie Munson? Dad no, absolutely not! Why can’t he do it?” You say as your eyes begin to water

“You know that boy, does he look like he can take care of a three year old for three days?” Your dad was beginning to get aggravated with your tone and questioning

“I cannot believe this. I hate him, how am I suppose to go over there and act civil when you’re asking me to go hang out with satan in the flesh?”

Your dad laughs at your outburst

“I’m not asking you to hang out with him, I’m asking you to babysit his niece.”

“For three days?!” You shout “I’m sorry, but cmon dad, I can’t do that.”

“You can, and you will. End of discussion.”

“I- whatever.” You turn on your heels and stomp out of there

“Hey, hun. French toast is ready,” your mom says with a big smile.

“I’m not hungry, sorry mom.” You say as you trudge up the stairs to go sulk in your bedroom

After you packed your duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, showered and put on some comfy black cotton shorts and a white long sleeve shirt. You got into your Prius and head for the last place on earth you ever wanted to be, Forest hills trailer park.

You don’t even remember why you and Eddie hate each other so much. Well you do, but now that you’re both adults, it all seems so redundant.

You and Eddie have known each other since he moved in with his uncle in first grade. You were actually friends at some point, then you hit middle school and your body started changing, you started getting a different kind of attention from Eddie and other boys. You both got closer that summer before freshman year. Close as in, you shared your first kiss with him, amongst some other things. But, once high school started, everything changed. Eddie became distant. You knew he was bullied, even worst than middle school, but you didn’t understand why he was so angry at you. Okay, well it could’ve had something to do with a small rumor that went around about you, and a certain basketball player. It wasn’t 100 percent incorrect, you did go on a date with Josh Young and you did make out in the back of his brothers Camaro, but you definitely did not give him a handy or a blow job, you knew him and his jock meathead friends started it because you didn’t want to go any further with him that night. Eddie avoided you at all costs after that, which was total bullshit because when you and him weren’t sucking face and feeling each other up, he was going on and on about perfect little Angela Thomas, a blonde cheerleader. Go figure. He had no right to be angry, so you both never talked after that. Except the occasional condescending comments that would leave his mouth when you’d both be at your lockers, his unfortunately being way too close to yours or that time you both had biology together, sophomore year and were paired up for a project. You ended up doing the whole thing yourself and allowed him to get half the credit, but other than that. Radio silence, on both ends.

You pull up to the only trailer with beer cans littered around the yard, parking next to Eddies rust bucket of a van. You couldn’t believe he was still driving that thing. It was a million years old and on its last leg, but something about seeing it made you nervous. Where’d that come from?

On the other side was Wayne’s pick up truck, the bed of it holding his black suitcase.

You keep your eyes on your brown platform ugg boots, as you make your way up the steps to the front door.

You knock a few times, wishing you could be anywhere literally anywhere but here.

“Y/n, hello sweetheart.” Wayne Munson says with a whisper, as he feels around his blue jeans for his keys.

“Laylas asleep in her room, she ate, she bathed, so she’s out for the night.” He chuckles

“There’s food in the fridge, money for pizza on the counter, and if you need anything just ask Eddie, he’s also in his room playin his damn games. If you want, you can sleep in my bed or you can take the couch, whatever you’re comfortable with.” — “Before I go, I just really want to tell you how much I appreciate this, darlin.” He says as he throws you an appreciative smile.

“Yeah of course, Mr. Munson. Have a safe trip.” You smile back, as you close the door behind him.

Now what the hell do you, do?

After sitting uncomfortably on the couch for an hour, while scrolling on your phone and occasionally looking up at the Netflix movie you decided to put on as background noise, you hear a door open. Your heart starts beating out of your chest at the realization that you’re about to see Eddie.

The kitchen light turns on, making your eyes slightly squint. As you looked over at him, he was drinking Pepsi straight from the liter.

Ugh he was so disgusting

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and then closed the cap, putting it back in the fridge as he let out a burp.

God, you really couldn’t stand him

Even if he was wearing nothing but grey sweats, so low it showed off his v line and trail of hair right above his—

“Oh, you’re here.” He says as he rolls his eyes

He knew you were here, he just loved pissing you off.

“Yup, don’t wanna be here just as much as you don’t want me here, Munson.”

“You sure about that?” He snickers

“Positive.” You say as you continue scrolling on your phone, pretending to read something, that you’re not actually reading. You just don’t want it to feel anymore awkward than it already does.

“Mm, okay princess. You have a nice night.” He turns around, shutting off the light and heading back into his room.

Princess? Ew, You hate him so much, but why’d he have to look so good? Fuck him!

You eventually got comfortable on the couch with the pillow and throw blanket, Wayne kindly left out for you. Falling asleep a little after you started some cheesy romantic comedy.

You wake up to the sound of loud metal music, and sun peaking in through the curtains. Once you roll over, you’re greeted by a little face staring down at you. Scaring the living shit out of you.

“Hi. My name is Layla, what’s yours?” The toddler asks, words coming out in the cutest little voice.

“Hi Layla, my names y/n. I’m gonna be babysitting you while your daddy is away.” You say as you sit up and rub your face

“Can you make me breakfast?” She says as she walks a little closer to you, you now notice she’s got a stuffed puppy in her arm.

“Of course I can, what would you like?” You put your ugg booties on and stand up, making your way to the kitchen as Layla follows closely behind

“Waffles, please!” She says excitedly

“Okay, waffles comin’ right up.”

“Thank you, y/n.” Layla says with the sweetest little smile

“No problem. So who’s your friend?” You ask, looking at the stuffy in her arm

“This is Mr. Floppy,” She says as she holds up the brown floppy eared puppy

“Well hello, nice to meet you Mr. Floppy.” You bend down and shake one of his floppy ears, like you would a hand.

Layla giggles like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

As you’re plating laylas waffles and topping them with butter and syrup, the loud music that was booming from down the hall, stops. Eddie’s door flys open and he’s swinging his keys on his index finger, dressed in his usual; band tee, black jeans, leather jacket and battle vest.

“Teddy!” Layla shouts as she skips to hug his legs

“Sup, rugrat?” He says as he ruffles the top of her braided pigtails

“Are you leaving?” She inquires with a sad look on her face.

“I am, I’ll be back later. Just gotta take care of some stuff.” He says while looking over at you as you cut up Laylas waffles.

Eddie walks out the front door after telling Layla bye, leaving the screen door to slam.

After playing with your new favorite toddler, almost all afternoon. Feeding her lunch and playing some more. She’s finally, down for a nap.

You begin cleaning up her toys off the living room floor, and turning the god awful voice of this blippi character on YouTube off.

You decide to get your AirPods out of your bag and pair them to your phone, so you can listen to some music while you clean up a little bit more.

You began washing the dishes, cleaning down counters and cleaning off the dining table, as well as sweeping the kitchen floor.

As you’re plugging in the big clunky vacuum, you hear Eddie’s other clunker come to a halt in the front yard, doors slamming and some talking, before the door is being unlocked and opened.

Eddie bounds in after some girl, you’d never seen her before. She was blonde and pretty. It made your stomach plummet and your hands shake.

Why are you jealous?

You didn’t miss the big smile on his face as he looked over at you, and began walking her to his bedroom.

Just breathe. JUST BREATHE. You hate him, why do you want to cry? Do you hate him? Fuck!

This was gonna be torture. You wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. But you knew you couldn’t. So you decide to put your headphones back in, and continue cleaning. It helped get your mind off of what Eddie and blondie, could be doing behind that door, but only for a little bit before your mind began to wonder.

So you gather some clothes and head for the bathroom, slipping inside and locking the door. You put the shower on, and begin undressing. Thanking god, Eddie had his music on pretty loud, but also not, because Layla could wake up any minute, so you had to make this fast.

After you get out, you slip on a black long sleeve onesie, you didn’t even realize you packed. The shorts on it are really short, and is constantly riding up, showcasing some of your butt. The front has about a dozen buttons going down to the middle of your stomach so you can control how much cleavage you want to show off. Opting for a good amount, enough to capture attention. It seemed like the most logical thing to go with, in this situation, whatever “situation” this was.

You find a brush in one of the drawers, brush out your hair and then make your way out of the bathroom and down the hall to check on Layla, she’s still sleeping soundly, so you walk back to the couch. Trying to drown out whatever noises you hear coming from Eddie’s room, you can’t make out if they’re laughs or moans and you’d rather keep it that way.

Some time goes by, while you’re scrolling on tik tok. Eddie’s door opens, as miss blondie walks out and leaves out the front door. A deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding is released, after the door shuts. Your eyes are glued to your phone during her walk of shame, not wanting to see any marks or anything that’ll make this any worst for you.

You hear Eddie’s footsteps getting closer, so you decide to take a peek. Eddie’s in nothing but his black jeans, while his checkered boxers peak out the top and a cigarette behind his ear.

Why is he coming over here?

“What are you, doing?” He says as he takes a seat on the other end of the couch

“Just scrolling on my phone.” You say as you look over at him, his face looked flushed and sweaty, it makes your stomach hurt even more. God, you can’t believe you are feeling this way for Eddie, you like him. You wish you could fucking leave, you hate this, you hate these old feelings you’ve stuffed down for so long, popping back up like a fucking Jack in the box.

“You uh, you want me to order a pizza or something? I worked up an appetite.” He smirks

“Yeah, cool.” You say almost low enough to be a whisper

“Okay, um. Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He says as he looks down at your cleavage, nipples hard and on display.

“No, I’m okay.” You say as you get up and make your way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes were roaming your body, as he licked his lips. Yeah, he just had sex with some random girl, but that was only to get his mind off of you, and your annoying, fucking attitude. Eddie would never admit it, but he loved your stupid sassy personality. You didn’t take his shit. Fuck, he wanted you so bad. He starts to wonder if he just blew any chance with you, by having another girl over. Dammit, He definitely did, there’s no way you’d touch him now.

Part two

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[willowser]

touya + eggplant ; 3.2k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

touya's message comes across in the early afternoon, when you know he should be working.

the image that comes to mind is — hilariously sweet: him in ill-fitting trousers and freshly combed hair, leaning too far into some desk as he fiddles with his phone. biting his lip, most likely, running the very tip of his tongue across the hole his piercing left behind; amused.

it'd be even better, you think, if he wasn't sending you three eggplant emojis and nothing else.

it's bold, and startlingly so. enough that your heart rate skyrockets and sweat forms instantly on the back of your neck, in the creases of your palms, as you overanalyze three cartoon vegetables harder than you ever have in your life. you could easily believe he's sending this as a drunken joke, but he's been stone-cold sober since he was released, and if that had changed, even in the slightest, yumi would have told you.

you type out four different variations of the same question — asking what the hell that's supposed to mean — before sending none of them. are you...being a weirdo? eggplant emojis are inherently sexual, right? and maybe touya's been away for a while, but surely he would know that. right? in a single, wordless text, he's managed to make you sixteen again; too young to be crushing on your best friend's older brother.

— though you think of him now as he was only days ago: eyes clear and focused, razor sharp and set on you from across the todoroki living room. the very memory makes your stomach churn, violently; just a kid that should be worrying about their studies, and not about a boy that wouldn't give you the time of day.

before your thoughts can get themselves any more scrambled, another text follows suit:

yumi wants to know if u wanna come for dinner

eggplant, you tell yourself, as in the actual food that people eat. the actual vegetable, and not the dickish inquiry you thought it was. you do your best to ignore the little wave of disappointment that washes over you, and then the following crash once you realize that you wouldn't actually mind if he was asking after what you thought he was asking after; you, carnally.

you collect yourself enough to send him a normal, not weird text in response confirming that you'll be there, and his thumbs up comes across almost instantly. as if he'd been waiting for you.

touya was always in and out of their house when you and fuyumi were in school, but you caught him every now and then when things were good. safe at home, doing his best to hold down a job and stay out of trouble, soaking up a warmth from his family he never got as a kid, when their dad was around. how couldn't you have developed such a crush on him? to see him happy and whole, more dangerous than anyone expected, mysterious in a way that excited your teen heart — and kissing up to his mother at the dinner table?

you're not delusional enough to think he ever noticed you or your big goo-goo eyes, but sometimes he would stick his head into his sister's room, to grin and wiggle his eyebrows at you, before getting pelted in the head with a stuffed animal and chased away. it earned a high-pitched laugh from him, more of a game than anything sincere, but you still thought of him while staring at the ceiling in your own bedroom, wishing.

in all the time he was away — in rehab or jail or who-knows-where — you thought you'd outgrown your juvenile infatuation, but — here you are, still, with fevered cheeks at the very thought of him.

here you are, still, taking care to choose your clothes for dinner, as if it were only going to be you and him. fussing with your hair for far too long, as if he would notice. making little crescents with your nails into your palm outside the door to the todoroki house, as if you haven't been here thousands of times.

you've seen him since he's been home, of course, in the last few months, but there's been this weird aura surrounding you both, worse than it was when you were younger. you're tip-toeing around each other and you both know you're tip-toeing, and he's always wearing his little smug smile and looking too long. it's hard to be around him, really. a little easier to text, but every winky face he sends only winds you up even further.

when the front door swings open, you hold your breath unintentionally, neck straining until you realize —

it's only shouto.

"hi!" you say, trying not to sound as winded as you feel, though shouto — as usual — is unimpressed.

he blinks at you, two-toned, and almost rolls his eyes like the rotten teenager he's capable of being, attitude too much like touya's. there's a little doughy dumpling in his hand and he turns away from you while using it to wave further into the house. "she's in the kitchen."

fuyumi, even though you didn't ask. you follow him in and stick your tongue out at the back of his head, before going off to find your best friend — who is, indeed, in the kitchen, surrounded by bowls and utensils and too many real, actual eggplants.

"what did you do?" you ask upon seeing her treasure trove of purple veggies on the counter. "rob a farmer?"

there's really an absurd amount of them, though she doesn't look up from cutting one into little rangiri pieces. "no, actually, they were on sale at the farmer's market!"

you eye one closest to you before poking at it, oblong in shape and — kind of ugly. it feels odd in your hand when you pick it up, but that's probably because you're hyper-aware of every sound in the background of the house, of the burning embarrassment tucked away in your pocket in the form of touya's three emojis. shamefully, your thoughts take a dark turn, and when fuyumi finally glances up, you toss the vegetable back onto the counter too fast.

she snorts and shakes her head, pushing up her glasses with the back of her hand before pointing at the little steamer basket of dumplings near the stove. "try one! before shouto and natsuo eat them all."

you consider it for a moment before weighing just how much eggplant it seems you're going to consume tonight, and decide to wait until after dinner, if they're still there. along with her veggies, she's got a little tub of red miso out and also some pork frying in a pan, as well as too many bowls in the sink already. though you admire her passion for cooking, you know she'll wait to clean until everything is plated, and no one else will help her, so you take to starting on the dishes instead.

the frown she sends you can be felt, but you've been in this kitchen long enough that you think she should just give it up.

there's such comfort to being in here, with her, maybe because you really have done it so many times by now; the water is warm as it runs over your hands, sending little goosebumps up your arms, and you nod your head absentmindedly to the sound of her knife against the cutting board. you absorb the heat from everywhere quickly, and when you begin to smell the garlic and ginger cooking, you feel like a warm, doughy little dumping yourself.

you get lost in it with her and all the tension from the day melts, dissolves completely when you can lightly hear fuyumi humming over her sizzling pan. she tells you about some other things she bought at the market, gossip about a mutual friend you both have, she asks about the shirt you're wearing and why she's never seen it before, and you're rinsing your hands of dish soap when you hear her squeal—

"ah! get out!"

when you peek over your shoulder, you can see touya there, leaning too far over her own, smiling with full cheeks as he investigates what she's cooking. half of a little dumpling is in his hand and he looks down at it, makes a face before turning it over, and then he places it right back in the steamer.

"ew, gross!" fuyumi nudges him away with her elbow before plucking it right back out, trying to hand it back off to him. "nobody wants your half-eaten food."

and then, much to your horror, right in front of his sister — touya's eyes cut across the kitchen to you. one corner of his mouth quirks up in his little smirk and then you're whipping back around to look down in the sink, despite it being empty. his stare can be felt, too. you wonder if it's a todoroki thing.

"ew," fuyumi mumbles. you feel like you've been caught in some kind of way, though you don't doubt she clocked your affections for her older brother the minute they developed.

it's not something she's ever spoken directly to you about, however, which you're grateful for. you don't know how you would be able to handle that discussion, but she's always made sure to pass off the odd and unprompted little updates about touya over the years.

when he speaks again, it's clear his mouth is full. "shouto said he's not settin' the table."

"okay, then you go do it."

"no," touya snorts, "he's the youngest, that ain't fair."

"and you're the oldest, so you can ask him to do it."

"he doesn't listen to me and you know—"

"alright!" fuyumi sighs, and when you peek back at them, she's shoving her knife into his hands and shaking her head to herself, before stalking out of the kitchen.

you unravel out of your little dumpling warmth immediately, though your goosebumps return in full force. touya grins at you, happily, and tosses the kitchen knife in his hands in a way that looks too proficient, too dangerous for what it is. your teen heart thumps loudly in your ears, charmed and enamored by his tragic mystery.

— and then you take in his still-pristine work outfit, openly, now that he's watching you; slacks a little slouchy on his narrow hips, white shirt buttoned up to his neck. the tattoo there is covered up by bandages on purpose, and though he means to simply hide them from view, it only sharpens all his edges.

the small pink, hello-kitty band-aid on his cheek helps, too, in a cutesy way. makes you all too aware of how much has changed over the years. how much he's changed, all the work he's had to do, the dues he's had to pay. your heart swell stubbornly, seriously, and you try to shake it away.

your voice starts out small, embarrassingly enough. "you look nice in your fancy office clothes."

touya's hand slip into his pocket and he rocks back and forth on his heels once, pleased, before looking down at his loose tie. "think so? you like a white-collar man?"

you look back to the sink, shy. it pulls him in; a moth to the flame of your hesitance, and it's not a moment later that he's leaning up against the counter beside you, watching your heated face carefully. the knife at his side gleams in the kitchen light and — you're not afraid of him, couldn't be, but you wonder if anyone else has ever been.

the truth of what landed him in trouble with the law is unknown to you, the one thing fuyumi never shared, and you can't help but to be curious as to why. you're practically family at this point and it's not as if you could ever look down on them, ever, and while you couldn't possibly understand the horror they went through with their father — you can sympathize with the fact that it wasn't easy. that he left scars they'll always nurse.

touya's always been so out of your reach, despite being just down the hall. blame it on time or the slight age difference or your relationship with his sister; it's hard to hope that he could be here, at your side, truly. finally.

instead of answering, you simply turn so that you're facing him, hip leaned against the counter, and the bright eyes he has on your cheeks are almost impossible to be at the mercy of. even worse when his smile grows, boyish-ly cute.

"what, coming on too strong?" he asks, laughing quietly when you put on a brave face and roll your eyes. "figured the emojis would'a opened the door a little."

your cheeks flame, and you press your hands into them to tide back your smile at how — flirty he is. the step back you take doesn't go unnoticed. "i couldn't even believe what i was seeing when you sent those."

"oh, yeah?" the tone of his voice changes then, shifts a bit lower. if you weren't tracking his eyes as they shift down to your mouth, burning a little brighter, you might've though you'd upset him or said the wrong thing. "what'd you think i meant?"

you glance away from him, directly at the ugly eggplant you'd been fiddling with earlier, and the dark thoughts return. when you don't answer right away, he reaches over to flip on the tap, running the knife blade underneath the stream as you map the wide expanse of his hands, the length of his fingers. small, translucent scars litter his knuckles.

"i don't know," you lie, and then it seems like you have said the wrong thing, this time; touya turns a little, placing all his attention in the dish soap and the sponge you'd left out to dry.

you are sixteen, speechless, nervous by his proximity—

"you seein' anyone right now?"

—but this is not the same boy that left you behind.

you have to laugh in order to keep yourself rooted to your spot, here on earth in the todoroki kitchen, and it brings his attention right back to you. "uh," you say, lamely, "what?"

it makes him laugh, too, all your sputtering. "yeah, c'mon. i mean, i know i'm fucked in the head, but," and then he really laughs, open-mouthed, showing off the piercing still in his tongue. "i'm workin' on it, and stuff. renewed and reformed, or whatever."

"hang on," you shake your head quickly, frowning at him as you replay the words over and over; his self-deprecation is so genuine that you almost missed it. "i don't think you're...fucked in the head."

"well, that makes one of us—"

"no, touya, i'm serious," the step closer you take has him looking away, down into the empty sink; hilariously, a mirror of yourself that you never could have imagined seeing. it does strange things to your heart, your stomach, and your nerves. makes you bolder than you really are. "i've never thought that."

he doesn't say anything for long time, choosing to watch droplets of water as they fall from the faucet. his jaw works in the silence, like he's chewing the inside skin of his cheek, like he's thinking too hard.

and then he says, quietly, "i know." he continues without looking at you, sensing the confusion on your face. "i know you never did, 's'why i couldn't..."

you blink, lost suddenly in the meaning of his words and their whirlwind. you think back to all the times he grinned at you from fuyumi's doorway, how uninterested he seemed in you from across the dinner table, his silence on the rare occasions you were alone together.

you've known touya since you were fourteen and he was fifteen. you remember when their parent's got divorced and when touya got his license and when he got locked up, the first time. you've known him through so many of his bad moments and it never dimmed the little stars you had in your eyes for him, and you once thought that was a bad thing, that it would only lead to heartbreak time and time again from him. you once thought it was something only you and fuyumi knew about.

"i am tryin' now," he continues with a sigh, a little winded. "seriously. got this shitty job and am goin' to my meetings. not as big of a piece of shit." when you start to object, he shakes his head and holds up a hand to stop you from arguing. "i know, i just mean...you wanna white-collar guy, i'm a white-collar guy."

you feel shy again, especially as the high points of his cheek flush pink. boyish-ly cute. "so that's why you sent me three eggplant emojis instead of just asking me to come eat dinner?"

touya snorts. "yeah, like i said, i'm workin' on it."

"no, i..." it feels wrong to admit anything to him like this, so close as his grin grows on his handsome face, dimples showing. you've been thinking about moments like this for years, but now that it's here, you feel a little dizzy, looking into his bright eyes. "i like the eggplant emoji." you step away from him for just a moment, to grab his half-eaten dumpling, and his expression grows serious — a little dark — as you nibble on it. "i like the way you...do things."

his smile grows knife-sharp, something he's too good at wielding. "well, in that case—"

"can i come in yet? our dinner is about to burn."

you both whip around to take in fuyumi, hovering at the edges of the kitchen with her arms crossed. watching on, her cheeks tinged pink, too. you try to step away, embarrassed and caught, but touya only leans in, knocking his hip to yours.

fuyumi rolls her eyes at him, but the small smile she sends you has you wanting to be swallowed up by the floor; this isn't a discussion you've ever had to have with her, but now — it's inevitable.

you suppose you can't complain too much.

"okay, you had your moment, now get out," she sticks her tongue out at touya before shooing him away, making a small noise when he pinches your elbow teasingly. it makes him laugh when she swats at him, and he only holds up his hands and tries to drop all his weight back on her as she steers him out of the kitchen.

you fish the knife out of the sink and return to cutting another eggplant once she's back and stirring in her leeks and little miso mixture. the moment is tense between you to begin with — but then she's humming quietly under her breath and knocking her hip into yours, too, tucking you back into the comfort of this house you've always been in. this family you've always loved.

"you know," she murmurs eventually, rolling her eyes with another smile when you glance up at her face. one of the eggplants is weighed in her hands, and even she frowns down at it, before shaking it at you in a way that makes you both laugh. "he made me buy these, by the way."

—tucking you back into the comfort of this family that has, maybe, always loved you, too.

[mikkomacko]

Jersey Leeds: Little Dev

Previous

Summary: Part of the Jersey Leeds storyline; reader takes baby Jersey to her dads first game of the new season

Warnings: none

~

“Neeks you don’t have to do that.”

He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he continues to twist the Allen wrench, shaking his head softly. His hair hangs over his forehead, concealing most of his gaze but under the tips of the dark strands you can see his dimples sink into his cheeks.

“Been sitting over here too long,” he calls back “need to get it out of the way. And tire myself out for my nap.”

Accepting his answer, you turn back to the counter to finish Nico’s pregame snack. The new house in Jersey was slowly coming together, slower than either of you expected but life’s sort of been like that lately. The playoff birth of Jersey and then the team’s quick exit in Carolina, followed by a flight to Switzerland with a newborn was hectic. You made it work though, at least while Nico was competing at worlds but both of you were almost thankful for the loss.

Being parents was hard. Being parents while moving, hockey-ing, and not sleeping was even harder. Luckily the summer calmed down and Nico had more time with you and Jersey, showing her around Bern and introducing her to her Swiss family. He had a lot of things to be proud of that month, but none of it sparkled in his eyes like sharing his life with his daughter did.

You think of that look on his face as Jersey begins to fuss from her play mat, the borderline cries already making your temple throb. Plating Nico’s two peanut butter and banana sandwiches, you dust your hands off on your pants before moving into the living room.

Nico is still sitting on the living room floor, legs splayed out in front of him as he attaches the final leg to the new coffee table, but his eyes are watching Jersey intently. Her little arms and legs wiggle, kicking and reaching upwards as she softly cries.

“I could’ve got her babe,” Nico says as you walk over, his fingers wrapping around the leg he just attached and wiggling it. “She’s just right there.”

Satisfied with his work, Nico flips the table over so it’s standing over his lap. Jersey is still fussing, angry little hiccups as she waves her fists in the air and you can’t help but laugh quietly as you bend down to scoop her up.

“It’s ok,” you reply, dabbing the sleeves of your sweater over her wet cheeks. Big brown eyes peer up at you, framed by the same impossibly thick, dark eyelashes Nico has. “I was done anyway.”

Testing his handiwork again, Nico presses his palms into the top of the table and lays all his weight on it as he gets up. You hold your breath, waiting for the screws and legs to give out and your husband to go tumbling to the living room floor.

But the table is solid and sturdy. Nico smirks proudly, rapping his knuckles on the wood before turning to you. “1 down,” he sighs “a lot more to go.” You shake your head as he eyes the rest of the boxed furniture scattered around the room.

“Do it later, you need to eat.”

Nico’s hands find your hips, holding you gently as he buts his head into yours to look down at his daughter. “Let me see my baby.” He requests instead, and the sound of his voice has Jersey kicking her legs in excitement. Her tiny mouth stretches into a toothless smile, pink tongue flopping out against her chin.

Laughing, Nico sticks his tongue out just the same, right hand coming up to tickle at her cheeks. You give them their moment, your heart warming at the weird but affectionate encounter. You’re unsure of how it came about, how Jersey picked up the habit but one day you had come home from a girls day with Nico’s family to find them sticking their tongues out at each other for entertainment. It’s since become their thing and Nico will take any chance he can get to see Jersey do it.

Nico pecks a kiss to her forehead before straightening out, pressing a similar kiss to your forehead as well.

“All right, snack time for my babies.” You instruct, pressing your palm into Nico’s stomach to nudge him towards the kitchen. He follows compliantly, moving into the kitchen and digging through the cabinets for something. You fetch a bottle out of the fridge, popping it into the warmer as Nico finds the container of honey he was looking for.

Smiling, he holds it out towards you.

“What?” You laugh, adjusting Jersey on your hip.

His voice drips with sweetness when he asks, “Will you put it on my sandwich for me?” It’s an odd request considering your currently holding a baby and attempting to get her meal ready but Nico’s already reaching out for his daughter with his free hand so you obediently switch him.

“You’re being weird,” you comment, popping open the container as you peer up at your husband through your lashes. He’s mumbling sweet nothings under his breath, nose pressed into Jersey’s temple because he likes the smell of her baby wash.

If your words bothered him, it doesn’t show. “I like the way you do it.” He explains simply, turning to grab Jersey’s now warm bottle. Going back to work on his snack, you drizzle honey across the banana slices before putting them back together and quickly slicing each sandwich into two. Nico fishes out Jersey's bottle, not sparing you a glance as he plops down at the dining room table. Plate in hand, you watch him settle Jersey into the crook of his arm, her little body so small against his bicep and forearm.

He coaxes the nipple of the bottle into her mouth, waiting a moment for her to latch before shooting you an expectant look, eyebrow raised and unimpressed.

"My bad," you laugh, "I didn't realize I had two babies to feed."

Settling into the chair next to him, you set his plate in front of him. Which was apparently not the right thing to do because Nico sighs, still eyeballing you incredulously. You roll your eyes, annoyed but so utterly in love with the man in front of you that you can't help but smile as you pick up a half of a sandwich, lifting it to his awaiting mouth.

It makes you laugh, him munching on the snack with honey smeared on his lips, bobbing his head to entertain Jersey while she eats. She watches him with curious eyes, blinking sluggishly. By the time you've finished feeding Nico, she's finished most of her bottle and is sinking further into Nico's arm as sleep pulls her under. He slip the bottle from her, and you take that and the empty plate to the sink while Nico props her up on his shoulder to be burped.

"All right," you sigh after cleaning everything up, "nap time for you two." Nico smiles lazily as you lead him and Jersey down the hall with a tender hand on his lower back. Jersey has already begun to drool into his chest, and he's careful to lay her in the middle of your king size mattress.

You stay long enough to watch him crawl into bed and take the time to tuck him in under a throw blanket, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He attempts to lift Jersey onto his chest, wincing when she wakes up with an annoyed screech, but she's soon settling into the softness of his abdomen. Nico coaxes another kiss out of you, sleepy eyes all soft and warm as you leave him and Jersey to nap while you get everything together for dinner later tonight.

~~~~~

The Rock makes you emotional, not only because the last time you stepped foot in the arena you welcomed your baby girl into the world, but because of how much this night means to Nico.

Impatiently waiting for warm-ups to start, you adjust the crocheted ice skate slippers on Jersey’s feet, making sure her ankles are covered. Then you tug down the sleeves of her little jersey, smoothing a finger over the tiny C patch Nico had custom made for it. The sweater had been a gift from the organization, handed to Nico in a little bag before there first game of round two last season. He almost blubbered over the thing when he presented it to you at home, choking back tears as he babbled about the name daddy on it and his number and how it was just like that baby shirt he loves but better.

Knowing how much he loved the jersey, you’d elected to save it for her first game in person. One where he could actually see her in it. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you at the glass.

Jersey wiggles away when you adjust the headphones over her ears, making sure they’re not on too tightly but aren’t slipping off. You’d spent all summer working on them for her, acquiring cute little stickers to put her name on one side and a 13 on the other. But the real kicker had been getting the two little devil horns on top. It took a lot of different emails and calls, even some instagram messaging to find someone who could make them. And even though Nico laughed and teased you about it, you were glad with the outcome.

Jersey looked adorable and passionate, all things the captain’s daughter should be.

She’s kicking her feet at you in annoyance when the first horn goes off and the players start trickling onto the ice. Almost leaping out of your skin, you press up close to the glass, turning Jersey so her back is to your chest and she can look onto the ice.

Almost immediately her little legs start wiggling, big brown eyes watching red jerseys fly by and you laugh, believing that she’s trying to skate with them in her mind.

You know Nico has his warm up routine so you’re not expecting him to bang on the glass as soon as he does. Not that you need the little taps of his stick to know he’s there. Jersey recognizes him immediately, her hands reaching out as she coos excitedly.

Looking up from Jersey’s smiling face, you’re stunned by the look of utter joy on Nico’s face. His eyes crinkled, smile so wide you think it might fall off the sides of his face if it weren’t for dimples keeping it in place. He’s waving at Jersey, hitting his gloved knuckles to the glass.

You nudge Jersey closer, allowing her to press her own hands into Nico’s as she screeches excitedly. Out of the corner of your eye a phone slips into view, capturing the precious moment for you two. You make a mental note to ask the social media admin for the video later, turning a bit so the camera has a better view.

Nico looks up at you, that beautiful smile of his shining. “That’s my baby,” he shouts excitedly, voice muffled by the glass but loud enough to make you laugh. You nod in agreement, picking up Jersey’s arm so you can help her wave to him.

His gaze returns to her, waving once more before he sticks his tongue out. Like routine, Jersey does it back, giggling and bouncing in your arms at her daddy. You can hear him laugh, the sound so full of delight it makes your whole body flush with love.

They’re interaction draws in Jack and Bratter, both boys squishing Nico between them as they stop to say hi. You can’t make out what they’re saying to each other as they wave and tap at Jersey but Bratt motions to Jersey’s headphones before shooting you a thumbs up. You laugh, shrugging in thanks before he’s off to finish warm-ups. Dougie takes his place, shoving Jack back so he can lightly jump into the glass.

Jersey jumps in shock, staring at the large man in stunned silence for just a moment. You since, waiting for her to burst into tears and you can already see Nico about to scold his teammate. But then Jersey is laughing gleefully, those bubbly baby giggles making everyone breathe out a sigh of relief.

You linger a little longer, letting all the boys stop by the stay hi and admire they’re little captain. They’re all enamored with her, eyes going soft just as they did the moment they all met her in the hospital. She has always had this team in the palm of her hand, most of all her daddy who has spent all of warm-ups watching her. He chats with whoever filters in to see her, blushing and smiling when they tap him on the helmet with their sticks.

The time comes to head to your seats, even if Nico is trying to get you to stay by making faces and wiggling his fingers through the glass. You know he’ll never actually warm-up if you don’t leave first so you give him your best demanding wife look.

“Say bye to daddy,” you tell Jersey, making her wave one more time. Then you’re tucking her into your chest and holding your knuckles to the glass. Nico does the same, winking at you just once before he slowly skates backwards.

You blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it and place it over his heart. Finally he joins the team to get some practice shots in, you moving away from the glass where you can still see him but not be a distraction.

For just a moment you admire him, let yourself adore him for all he is. A good person, a talented player, a strong leader, a brave role model, a loving husband, and the best father a child could ever have.

Jersey’s cry of annoyance drags you back into the moment, peering down to see her mouthing at your shoulder as tears well in her eyes. Her father's eyes.

"I know baby," you murmur, "let's go feed you. We'll see daddy again in a bit." You head back through the tunnel towards the family room so you can pick up the baby bag.

"He's gonna win you a game tonight." You promise Jersey, "and if he doesn't, he'll definitely play his heart out for you."

If there's one thing you could be certain about, it's that Nico will always give his all for his babygirl.

[lainiespicewrites]

Electric Summer

I decided to start something new! I know I said I was going to try to finish Coach Sy first but I just don't have ideas for it. And this would not leave me alone.

Summary: OFC is a camp counselor. She and Sy used to be childhood besties and used to have a summer fling. But when they get older and school ends. She thinks she'll never see him again.

Warnings: none

Let me know what you think. Comments and Reblogs are always welcome

This work is totally my own and I own all my mistakes. Obviously, I don't own Sy.. man I wish

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This was easily my favorite time of the year. I love the fall and the smell of the leaves and cozy blankets and warm drinks. It was a beautiful time of year. Fall was my favorite season. But this was not that. This was magic. Summer’s always were. Even when the sun went down at 9pm and the sky faded to black there was still an electric energy that burned in the air. The nights weren’t over just because the sun had fallen. In fact that was the time when the best memories were made. Especially here. It’s so cliche, but to me this is the happiest place on earth. Forget Disney world. No, the best times were had slipping away from mom and dad and spending the summer with friends you hadn’t seen all year, jumping in the lake, tipping a canoe, hiking through the woods at night, sneaking off to steal a kiss with your crush behind the cabin, and warming up around the campfire at night. 

This camp built me. It holds my dearest memories from my childhood and adolescents. When they messaged me and asked about coming back as a counselor it was an easy answer. 

I looked over at my best friend pouting on my bed while I packed my suitcase. 

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be gone all summer!” she grumbled. I laughed, shaking my head at her. 

“I told you, you could come too! They need more counselors.” I stated, matter of fact. She scrunched up her nose  and raised an eyebrow. 

“I love kids but I’m not very outdoorsy, no way I’d last all summer! I’m too pale to be in the sun that long.” she retorted

“Fair, we’ve been swimming once this year and you’re already burnt.” I chuckled. I put another towel in my bag and she took it out and threw it on the bed. I sighed.

“It’s not forever V, you can literally come visit me.” I said “I won’t be on my  phone much at all  but I can give you nightly updates before lights out!” I promised.

“Fine,” she conceded, repacking the towel for me. “But if you meet somebody and start some whirlwind summer love you better tell me immediately! I want all the details! We haven't spent this long apart literally since we became friends!” I laughed 

“I doubt it, but if the perfect man somehow manages to show up to sweep me off my feet at summer camp I’ll let you know!” I told her. 

“It could happen! Didn’t you have a lil summer boyfriend when you were younger?” She asked. I thought back to my days as a camper. All the friends I’d made, the silly little camp crushes. Then there was him. For 3 straight summers there was him. I tried to resist it at first. He was incredibly charming. A lot of the girls had a crush on him. He was energetic and funny and he had this big smile. That first summer we became fast friends. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn’t leave me alone. If I got up to leave the group he’d get up and ask where I was going. When we had to use the buddy system for a game or a hike. He would claim me before one of my girls could. His friends would get mad at him for it. I never understood it. But camp was only 2 weeks long. I didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. 

The next summer. He grew. He had to be at least a foot taller. His hair had grown out into these beautiful wild curls. I think maybe he’d started working out. He mentioned he was playing football in school. So maybe that was why he seemed more toned. He still had that big sweet smile. He’d grown into a gentle giant. It must’ve been fate that once again our cabins were paired together as a group. And because we’d become such good friends he sought me out immediately. Pulling me into a big hug. 

“Hey girl!” He beamed, squeezing me tight. “Glad we’re here together again, how have you been?” He asked enthusiastically. I chuckled, my arms still wrapped around his middle as I found my footing again. He’d practically lifted me off the ground. 

“It’s good to see you too, Logan.” I smiled. Despite how hard I tried, That summer, I could not deny that I had developed feelings for him. I was too shy to tell him. And I loved being friends with him. I didn’t want to lose that. However even though Logan didn’t seem to notice it was painfully obvious to one of my bunkmates. 

“You should tell him you like him!” Tasha said, sneaking up behind me. This particular day the girls in our cabin decided to ditch the boys, who were off  playing ultimate frisbee or something, and go on a hike. 

“What?” I said quickly. She shook her head. 

“Girl, you obviously have the biggest crush on Sy, you should tell him.” she repeated herself. I started to chew on my lip nervously. 

“Logan? I… tosh… he’s my best friend. Aside from you of course,” I assured her, “I can’t tell him.” I said. She sighed dramatically. 

“Why not? He’s literally so nice, the worst that would happen is he’d say he wants to stay friends.Plus I really think he likes you too!” she said hopefully. 

“You can’t know that.” I retorted. She shook her head at me again. 

“I’ve heard people talk about it. I was in the bathroom last night and I overheard these girls from cabin F talking, one of the girls said she’s really jealous of you because of the way Logan clings to you,” she argued. 

“He does not cling to me,” I said. 

“We had to tell him our hike was no boys allowed because he was gonna ditch the boys to come with us!” she cried. 

“Maybe he wanted to hike?” I argued. Tasha gave up and just laughed. 

“Girl you’re hopeless.” she said, as we continued to walk. 

A few days later the boys and girls cabin went on a night hike together. It was a tradition. Something we did every year. We walked through the woods when it got dark and played games as a group. I hated it. It freaked me out. I was not a horror movie fan and this was like an invitation for a demon to jump out and attack you. Needless to say I was scared the whole time. Sy picked up on it immediately. Sticking with me the whole time. Distracting me and making me laugh. And when I got really tense on the walk back he grabbed my hand. When we were back in the clearing by the cabins Tasha looked back at us and noticed our hands smiling to herself. She stopped walking until she was next to me on the other side and whispered in my ear. 

“Girl if you don’t tell him I will.” I pouted and gave her a look and she just laughed skipping ahead again to hold the hand of this year's camp boyfriend. Needless to say I still didn’t tell him. I spent the next week and a half doing everything I could to avoid it. 

On the last day of camp a few of us were sitting in the grass in the sun soaking up the last few hours together before our parents arrived and we had to say goodbye. We were talking about our favorite things we’d done this summer. What we were gonna miss. Promising to keep in touch. 

“Hey Logan, you know you only live like an hour from Lainie?” Tasha said all of a sudden. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, looking over at me with a big smile on his face. 

“Mhmm.” she continued, "You guys could totally hang out sometime!” she exclaimed. 

“How did you know that?” I asked her suddenly.

“I looked it up,” she shrugged. I rolled my eyes but then looked over at Sy, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the grass, leaning back on his elbows, the sun shining down perfectly warming his face. He looked beautiful. He had a sparkle in his eye when I met his gaze. 

“What, you don’t wanna see me?” He pouted. “I think it’d be fun! You get your license in a couple weeks right?” He raised his brows eyes hopeful. I was surprised he remembered. We talked about it at campfire a couple nights ago. He told me he was saving up for his own car so he didn’t have to drive his brothers hand me down anymore. And I said I just couldn’t wait to be able to drive without my mom in the car. 

“Yeah,” I said, “I do, and of course I wanna see you Logan,” I blushed. 

“That’s perfect,” Tasha spoke again. “You guys could go on a date or something!” she winked. 

“Huh?” I choked. Glaring at her. Logan didn’t say anything. Or if he did I was too shocked to hear what he said. 

“Girl, don't act like you don’t have the biggest crush on him. We all know it.” I could feel everyone's eyes on me now and my cheeks were burning. 

“Is that true?” Logan asked softly. I couldn’t look at him. I chewed at my lip trying to come up with anything to make this go away but I couldn’t . 

“I-I …my parents are gonna be here soon! I need to finish packing!” I said and stood up quickly running toward the cabin. That wasn’t true. I packed everything this morning. I was bragging about it to him saying I had the whole rest of the day to enjoy what we had left of camp. He knew I was lying. I heard him call after me but I didn’t stop. Not until I got back to our cabin. The boys weren’t allowed there. I could stay there and hide until It was time to go. And that’s what I did. An hour later our counselor came to find me telling me my parents had arrived to take me home. I didn’t see Logan when I was leaving. I didn’t look for him. I was too embarrassed to find him to say goodbye. So I didn’t. I left without a word. And I felt horrible about it. 

Another year came and went. Logan and I never met up after summer. I didn’t text him. I was too afraid. And I’d never given him my number.  I was beside myself with nerves about returning to camp that next summer. It was my favorite place on earth. And my worst nightmare all wrapped into one. After the way I’d left things with him last year I was afraid to see him. I thought that maybe I’d get lucky and he wouldn’t be there the same week I was. Or we wouldn’t be in the same group. So at least I could avoid him. Even if it was gonna hurt. 

Of course that’s not what happened. Again our cabins were in a group. The first day I avoided making eye contact with him. And I always stuck with the girls. I didn’t want a chance for us to be alone together. Conveniently Tasha couldn’t make it to camp this year. So I was stuck in the mess she’d made without her help.  He and I were together for group activities but I didn’t talk much. I kept to myself. That worked for the first day. But it didn’t last long. During the afternoon at camp we didn’t have a lot of scheduled activities. So we could pretty much run around and do whatever we wanted. And since we were the late highschool aged group. We didn’t have to follow the “buddy system,”  They encouraged it but I guess if we went missing that was on us. It was just after lunch. Maybe 2pm. There was this little circle of bench swings in the park. It was a great place to gather as a group. A lot of times we would sit and reflect on the day there before the campfire at night. But right now no one was there. I liked to keep a journal while I was at camp. To keep all of the memories. So I sat on one of the swings with one leg folded under me and the other dangling off to push myself on the swing. I didn’t see him coming. I was too busy scribbling down all of  my thoughts. I didn’t notice anyone was there until I heard the creak of the chains from the swing directly across from mine. I looked up. Logan was sitting on the swing, his arms stretched over the back of it and rocking back and forth on his heel pushing the swing. I set my pen in my journal, closing it slowly, before I could speak, he said. 

“Please don’t run,” His voice sounded deeper somehow even though he spoke softly. I knew he was from the south. He always had a bit of a twang but I’d never noticed that drawl like I did now. When he was pleading with me. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I don’t like this,” He spoke again when I remained silent. “I hate that you’re ignoring me.” 

“I’m not…” I started

“You are,” He interrupted, letting out a deep sigh. “Lainie,” he said, my childhood nickname. The one he’d started to call me after we all shared fun facts about ourselves. It was the name all of my mothers family had called me since I was a baby. He’d never actually addressed me by my name from that point on. It was always a joke between us. A little sentiment that he claimed as his. It sounded sad now. As he pulled his eyes from the mulch on the ground to meet my gaze. “You are my best friend. You can talk to me. About anything. Hell, I’m closer with you than I am with any of my friends back home.” He said. “I know that things were kinda awkward when we left last summer but you didn’t even say goodbye.” He paused. I bit my lip, starting to feel emotional.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was so embarrassed.” I finally admitted to him. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. But everyone was looking at me. And I was scared and I was afraid I was gonna lose you as a friend. But I guess I did that all on my own.” I sighed. 

Sy stood up and crossed the space from his swing to mine. He paused waiting to see if I’d make room for him. Naturally I did. He sat next to me. Stretching his arm out behind me on the back of the swing. 

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried darlin,”  A soft smile formed on his lips.  If I didn’t know any better, it almost looked sad.  I could tell that he was having an inner battle in himself.  “Why were you scared?”  He finally asked.  I swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat.  There was no point in avoiding it now.  He had to know that I’ve had a crush on him.  Even I know that he isn’t too oblivious to realize that much.  I felt my breath hitch when I felt his hand cover my shoulder.  A gentle squeeze and a soft storking of his thumb brought my eyes to his.

“Because I didn’t want anything to change, what we’ve got going is good,” I spoke barely above a whisper. 

“Why would…” He started. But I cut him off before I lost my nerve. 

“Because Tasha was right. I did..do have a big crush on you. But it’s silly, and you’re such a great friend to me Logan, I didn’t want to lose that because of how I was feeling.” I rambled. 

“Huh,” He breathed. “You have a crush on me? I never would of guessed.” He smirked. I pouted and smacked his shoulder. 

“Sy, I’m serious!” I ran my hand through my hair and turned away from him to nervous to hold eye contact. I heard him chuckle softly before I felt his fingertips gently brush across my jaw turning me back to face him. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he paused regaining his composure. “You really think I didn’t notice?” He raised both brows and had a gentle smile on his lips. 

“You knew?” I muttered softly still so embarrassed about the whole situation. 

“It’s kinda what I what I was hoping for, I’ve only been flirtin’ with ya for two summers now,” He laughed. It was my turn to be confused. I raised an eyebrow. This only caused him to laugh more. 

“You?” I paused trying to wrap my head around what I was trying to say. “Wait so?” 

“I’d have loved to have taken you out, If you’d have given me the chance.” He explained. I hung my head resting it my hands and groaned. 

“I’m an idiot.” I sighed. 

“No,” Sy said, “I should have said something sooner, and Tosh shouldn’t have called you out like that. I’d known for a while but, I really liked the way things were between us. I didn’t see a reason for us to push anything.” He said slowly pulling my hand away from my face and lacing his fingers with mine. 

“You really liked me this whole time.” I said finally looking up at him, relaxing a bit when he smiled. 

“Since the day I met you.” He admitted. I smiled. And squeezed his hand I sat up moving to sit closer to him. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could one of the counselors was interrupting us.

“Hey guys you know the rules. No purpling, No PDA,” They warned us and stood there until Sy let go of my hand.  They nodded at us before walking off to montier the rest of the play ground. Some of the younger age groups were playing in the park. ‘No purpling’ such a stupid metaphor. Girls are red boys are blue if red and blue touch it makes purple. It was so annoying. 

“I hate that damn rule.” He grumbled. I giggled softly. 

“Yeah, me too.” we both just looked at each other and smiled. 

After that moment we spent the rest of that summer by each others side. Camp always seemed like such a short time and this time it seemed like it was slipping away even faster. We never made anything official but we did hold hands when no one was looking and occasionally we would sneak off from the group to have time alone. 

One evening after dinner a few of us decided we wanted to take out some canoes on the lake. Of course the two of us took one out on our own. For some reason that night Sy  was quiet. He had been a lot of the day. I finally decided to ask him about it. “Are you okay?” I asked after a few minutes of silence had passed while we floated in the middle of the lake. 

“Yeah,” He answered quickly “Why?” He wouldn’t meet my eye. 

“You’ve just been quiet, is something bothering you? You can talk to me.” I assured him. He sat there for a few seconds without saying anything before letting out a deep breath. 

“This is gonna be my last summer at camp.” He said softly. My heart sank. I knew he was about a year older than me. And we could only come back as campers through the year after we graduated high school. But he was about to start his Senior year. He still had one more summer. 

“But you haven’t graduated yet. You can still come back next year!” I said hopefully. 

“It’s not that,” He bit his lip looking out at the water still refusing to look at me. “I signed up for the military. I’m gonna be in the army. I start basic right after I graduate. And then they’ll send me wherever they need me.” He said finally meeting my eyes. 

“Oh,” I nodded. “So, after this summer, we won’t ever see each other again.” I said sadly. 

“Hey, no,” he said, grabbing my hand, “We still got a whole year. I could come see you or you could drive to me and we… we could make this…” He trailed off. 

“Logan,” my voice cracked as I started to speak. “You and I both know it’s not going to work. You’re going to be so busy with football and your friends and your family. And I will be too.” I felt him squeeze my hand and he nodded, a sad look in his eyes. 

“I know, but I just got you, I don’t wanna let go yet.” He said. I felt a tear fall and I wiped it away quickly, not wanting to make him feel any worse. 

“Maybe, we were only ever meant to have summer.” I said. 

“Yeah,” He whispered. “Guess we better make the most of it.” 

We spent every second we could together the rest of camp. Hell he even walked me to the bathroom. It killed me to know this was all we were ever going to be. I’d never met anyone like Logan before. I hated to say that I was in love with him. I mean I was only 16 but. It sure felt like it. We did every activity together, sat together at dinner. And he’d put his arm around me at campfire when the adults weren’t looking. The night before camp was over was the annual night hike. He knew how much I hated it. So while the rest of the group headed off into the woods he grabbed my hand and led us to another trail that led to an open grassy field. The boys usually played frisbee or softball out here. 

“Logan,” I whispered. “We’re gonna get in trouble.” I said. 

“They’ll never notice we’re gone.” He said. Pulling me into his chest and hugging me tight holding me for a moment. “I just wanna be alone with you.” he mumbled into my hair. He walked us out to the middle of the field and sat down pulling me down with him. “Come here.” He said laying back on the grass and pulling me into his side. I snuggled up to him laying my head on his chest. We laid like that for a while just silent. Looking at the stars above us. 

“I don’t wanna leave tomorrow. I don’t want to have to say goodbye.” He said. I felt myself start to tear up but I forced them down. 

“Are you scared?” I asked. 

“No,” He admitted shaking his head. “My dad was in the service and my grandpa, my older brother. It’s just what we do.” He said. 

“I hate this.” I sighed. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore or him. 

“Me too darlin.” he said. We laid there in silence again. Until he spoke. “Would it… would it be too selfish to ask you to wait for me?” He asked. I felt tense. I sat up laying my hand on his chest and turned to look at him. 

“Logan, you don’t need me to wait for you, you’ll meet some pretty girl in your home town. Some girl you can come back home too when it’s all over. You’ll have long forgotten about me when you come home.”

“I could never forget you Lainie,” He said softly. My breath hitched. His eyes bore deeply into mine. Even with nothing but the moon light and the stars lighting his face I could see he meant it. 

“Sy,” I whispered. He caressed my cheek sitting up to close the distance between us. This would be the first time we’d ever kissed. Maybe the last. I could feel his breath against my lips as my eyes fluttered shut. 

“There you two are!” The boys councelor called from across the clearing. “What were you thinking you had us all worried!” We’d been caught. 

We didn’t kiss that night. We never did. The next day when my parents came to get me. He stood there outside of our cabin holding me tight. Neither of us wanted to let go. But he didn’t kiss me goodbye. We couldn’t do it. I guess it was better not to know what we were missing. 

“I’m never gonna stop thinking about ya,” He said. As we finally pulled away. 

“Neither will I.” I said 

That was 7 years ago. We didn’t see each other after that. I cried and sulked the rest of that summer. 

I shook my head bringing me back to the present. My best friend still sitting on my bed looking at me expectantly. 

“Hello, Lainie,” she snapped her fingers. 

“What? Uh yeah, I guess I did have a summer fling. I mean, we were never official, never kissed or anything. But that was years ago. Who know’s where he is now.” I said. 

“Who knows. Fate has this way of bringing people together.” She said. I shook my head. 

“You’re such a hopeless romantic.” I laughed.

“And you’re hopeless, would it kill you to belive in fairtales. Or romance.”  she argued. I just laughed. 

“You know what you’re right. You never know what will happen this summer, camp always has been a magical place.” I said. 

A few hours later I was finally on the road. I felt the excitement rise up inside me as I passed the familiar rode signs. I was almost there. I thought my heart was gonna burst when I pulled into the long drive under the main archway. After parking my car I walked up to the main building to meet with the camp director. 

“Lainie!” She smiled greeting me with a hug. “I’m so happy you were able to join the team this year!” She beamed. 

“I jumped at the opportunity Becca, I wouldn’t miss it!” I said. 

“We’re glad to have you, I’ll get you checked in so you can get settled and get your cabin set up and meet your co-coucelor. You’re with one of the boys cabins. You’ll be in cabin E and He and his boys are in A.” She smiled. 

“Okay sounds great!” I was buzzing with excitement. 

“I’ll let you get to it,” she said “I’m sure you remember where everything is!” 

I unpacked my car and carried my bag and suitcase to my cabin. It felt so good to be back. I started to unpack and make up my bunk when I heard a knock on the screen door. I figued it must’ve been my co-concelor coming to meet me. I walked to the door stepping out on to the porch of the Cabin, seeing a man standing there. He was maybe 6,1 his hair was buzzed short. And he had a full beard. He had broad shoulders and a warm smile. His eyes went wide when they landed on me. And the moment I met the I knew why. “Lainie?” He asked. Still with that deep southern drawl. 

“Logan?”

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

Tagging my usual suspects, but let me know if you'd like to be added!

This is not the end of this story at all! There is much more to come here I can't wait to get started!!

Link for pt 2

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

This was getting longer than both Steve and Wayne's parts combined, so I'm gonna break it into 2 parts. Posting part 1 now, and part 2 should be up within a day. Thank you everyone for the wonderful replies/reblogs. I screenshot them cause they keep me going haha.

Trigger Warning: Child abuse referenced, as well as one scene of a child being slapped. Use of slurs in a derogatory manner.

-

Bad news first, Eddie thinks to himself as he swings the trash can lid turned shield, this is a fuckton of bats. Good news, Dustin is safe.

The bats are overwhelming but he's holding his own. He can do this. He can buy them more time. He's done running away from the things that scare him.

-

Bad news, Eddie thinks, watching Dustin sob above him, I'm gonna die here.

-

Eddie dies. He knows this because all the hurt stops. The world has faded into itself, dimming to a blackness deeper than Eddie's ever known.

The afterlife is a bit disappointing if he's honest. He's not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't nothing. Endless, unfathomable nothing.

He kinda hoped he'd see his mom or something, but that's delusional. If the afterlife was heaven or hell, he wouldn't end up in the one his mom went to, that's for sure. Too many sins under his belt for that.

Death is pretty boring though.

-

Time is impossible to track. He's tried a few times, counting seconds to make minutes but that's so boring he loses his train of thought. Ends up humming some tune or another before repeating the process.

The day he finds himself humming a Wham! song has Eddie a little panicked. He doesn't listen to Top 40 stations. He spent a good deal of time avoiding learning any Wham! songs, actually, so now that he's somehow gotten one such in his head...

This has got to be capital H Hell.

Well. Everyone in town thought he was on the road straight to it. Laugh it up, Hawkins. You were right. The Freak went straight down.

-

Eddie misses Wayne. He can't remember the last thing he'd said to him. When did he last tell his uncle he loved him? Wayne knew it though. He had to know it. They didn't say it out loud but they didn't need to. Right?

-

In the distance, Eddie sees something. A light? He's not sure what it is but it's something new. Something different.

The light leads him back into the Upside Down. The bats are swarming and he just crashed the bike- fuck fuck fuck, run. Run, Eddie, get the fuck out of here!

He's screaming at himself to run but instead his body stops. Turns. Pulls the shield and spear from his back and screams at the bats.

Eddie rips himself back, away. Crumples to the ground, folding into himself. Not that. Anything but that again.

-

A soft humming sound. Gentle, warm.

Loving.

Eddie unfolds himself to see what it is.

His mom smiles down at him, reaches out to ruffle his hair as she hums. Eddie knows the danger has passed and he is safe now because Mamma only hums that when it's safe.

"There's my handsome boy," she moves the hand from his hair to boop the tip of his nose. "How about we play a little game, hmm? The floor is lava!"

She scoops him up and plops him on the kitchen table. There is a crunching sound beneath her feet as she moves. Lava sounds an awful lot like Dad's broken beer bottles but if Mamma wants to play pretend then Eddie can do that for her.

-

His mother is beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world. He takes after her in a lot of ways. Matching curly locks, the same face scrunch when they're angry, their noses, big brown doe eyes. Eddie even shares her voice, just a different pitch. The point is, Eddie's mom is beautiful and he's got enough ego left at four years old to think of himself as beautiful, too.

The problem, then, is that Eddie makes the mistake of saying it in front of his Dad. 'As pretty as Mamma,' he'd said. They'd, he and Mamma that is, were sitting crosslegged on the floor in the living room. Dad had been in the kitchen, Eddie could hear him puttering about. Mamma had booped his nose and called him the best looking kid in all of America.

Eddie nodded fiercly, "yeah! As pretty at Mamma."

It used to be a fuzzy memory, what happens next. A flurry of movement and shouting. Now he's witnessing it with terrible clarity. His dad's hand curling around his upper arm and yanking him into the air, crushing hard enough to bruise. His dad's shouting at him. He remembers not remembering the words but now they hit him like the slap his dad delivered to his face. "No son of mine is going to be a fuckin' fag, thinkin' he's some pretty little girl. Is that what you want, you little shit? To be a little girl?"

"Stop it! Stop it! Let him go, he didn't mean anything like that!" he hears his Mamma plead but his Dad won't stop shaking him and screaming. He bursts into tears because it hurts and he's confused and his Dad's never hit him before- "Hit me! Hit me! If you're gonna hit someone, hit me!"

Eddie gets tossed aside. He lands on back and sees as his Dad does exactly as his Mamma demanded. Eddie's never been so scared in his life, he can't watch. He scampers down the hall as fast as he can and crawls under his bed to hide.

-

If Eddie had to guess, that's the memory that ingrained his need to run.

-

He's reliving his memories. He's a little embarrassed how long it takes him to figure that out. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. They don't tell you that the quote flash unquote takes a really fuckin' long time. Like, you know, your whole life long time.

It's so strange to witness, too. Like he's both watching the memories as an outsider, but also through his own eyes. He has both the knowledge that he had when he died, and also no experience beyond what he's seeing in the memory.

-

He watches his Dad beat his Mamma, beat him, but also watches his Dad push him on the swings and slow dance around the kitchen with his Mamma. And that's the worst part, he thinks. That his Dad could have been an awesome one. If he'd stayed sober like he kept promising. He didn't though, couldn't. Hell, maybe it's even a wouldn't. He watchs Wyatt fucking Munson pick beer and drugs over him and his Mamma time and time again.

Couldn't even put them down long enough to be there when Mamma got sick.

-

Eddie is seven. He's just had his head shaved, bald as his Mamma now. He regrets doing it as soon as he sees his Mamma's smile falter when Uncle Wayne drops him off at the hospital.

"We match, Mamma," Eddie says shyly, eyes downcast. "I wanted to match..."

"Oh, baby, come here," and she's scooping him into a hug, genuinly smiling again, "I love that we match. So long as it was your decision to cut your hair."

Eddie realizes now why her smile had faltered. She thought Dad had shaved his head against his will, probably because long hair was for woman, as he liked to say. Eddie in the memory didn't know that, though, so he just cuddles closer and says, "Yeah. Uncle Wayne did it for me, so it would be nice and even, he said. Wanna hear what we did in school today?"

-

There is something looming at the edges of his vision. Eddie can't seem to make whatever it is come into focus. It's not a memory because those always focus. It's something else. Something new.

-

His dad teaches him to hot wire a car. Makes him learn how to pick the lock on car doors and handcuffs. When he sees how easily Eddie took to lockpicking, he makes him learn other locks, too.

Eddie misses out on school because his dad can't be bother to enroll him and Eddie doesn't know how to do it himself. He's too scared to, anyway. Afraid his dad will start swinging and won't stop until he's dead.

-

When Eddie is eleven, a lot happens. It was a pivitol age for him. He got his first crush (a boy named Jimmy) and a first kiss (a boy named Jeramiah). Eddie also ends up in the hospital because his Dad caught him kissing Jeramiah.

It's not his Dad that picks him up from the hospital, though.

Eleven is the age he is the day his Uncle Wayne moves him to Hawkins, Indiana.

He's also eleven the first time he hears Black Sabbath.

Eddie is also eleven years old when he decides that he wants good news delivered last. To end with something good.

-

He relives becoming himself.

Catching up in school because he's not stupid, but falling behind because he is kinda dumb (schoolwork never seemed as imporant as hanging out with friends, or starting a band, or playing dungeons and dragon, or any other number of things).

The relief he feels the first time he meets another person like him, learns there's another word besides faggot for what he is. Gay. The immense pleasure of feeling truly seen the first time he says that out loud to someone (it's his best friend, Jeff) "Bad news, Jeff. You might hate me for this. Good news, I'm gay."

Good, good news. Jeff doesn't hate him!

There's a fear that Wayne might be like his Dad regarding all this, so he can't tell him; won't tell him.

But then Wayne comes home unexpectedly when Eddie is a freshman and catches him with another boy's tongue in his mouth. Eddie has a panic attack that winds up with him in the hospital.

He remembers the paralizing fear when Wayne came to pick him up upon his release. Eddie had walked to the pickup numb and afraid. He climbed in, buckled the seatbelt, and waited for the worst.

Wayne climbed in and started the pickup but didn't put it in gear. Instead, he spoke, "Life is gonna be rough for you, boy. Rougher than it should be."

Eddie cannot make words form to reply. Can't do anything but shake.

"Eddie," Wayne says and he feels the seat move as Wayne shifts to turn towards him, "the bad news is, life is gonna be rough, but the good news? Living under my roof isn't. Won't be. Eddie, my boy, I love you. And nothing, absolutely nothing, will change that."

Eddie breaks, like a puppet with its strings cut, sags in the seat and sobs. Never, never had Eddie ever bothered to entertain the idea that this might be Wayne's response.

-

Eddie is a sophomore the first time he notices Steve Harrington. It's fucking awful. It's also amazing.

Because noticing Steve Harrington means noticing Steve Harrington. He's immidiately popular because he's good looking and good at sports.

Eddie's not gonna claim to know Steve, he doesn't. There's just these little clues that King Steve isn't a default jerk. For one, Steve doesn't partake in bullying. He stays silent. Lets it happen.

But Eddie's also been witness to two times when Stever did step in; both times when it was escalating to be a phycical altercation.

"Hey, Tommy, don't," Steve had said, not quite stepping between Tommy and the other kid, but enough to be within Tommy's line of sight. "The game is tomorrow. You throw that punch and your hand is gonna hurt like a bitch through the whole game. And I swear to God if we lose this game because you can't handle it-" Steve didn't finish the sentence, didn't have to. Tommy lowered his arm and scoffed. Walked away mutter about how the kid wasn't worth it anyway.

The other time, it had been Jeff he'd defended. Jeff hadn't even been doing anything. Just stumbled into some asshole from the basketball team and knocked him over. Eddie had been the one who'd shoved Jeff (because Jeff was teasing him) and he was ready to place himself in the way when Steve had beat him to it.

"Fucking relax, it was an accident," Steve stood face to face with Roger. Eddie and Jeff just stared at the back of Steve's head. "It's not Jeff's fault that barely tapping you knocked you down like a house of cards. Right, Jeff?"

Eddie and Jeff blinked at each other in a sort of stunned silence because since when does King Steve know either of their names? Steve turned to look over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Jeff stammered out, "R-right. It was an accident. Sorry, man."

"See, he's even sorry."

Eddie reached out, wrapped his hand around Jeff's wrist, and tugged him away. He could not stay here and witness anymore of Hero Steve or he was going to embarrass himself infront of the entire cafeteria in the worst way possible.

-

That was the tipping point for Eddie. When he finally had to admit he wasn't just noticing Steve Harrington. He had a full blown crush on the dude.

Fuck.

-

Watching his memories play, Eddie realizes he spent far too much time in high school trying to get Steve's attention. Bumping into him on purpose, being antagonistic to his friends just get a response, or trying his best to use Jedi mind powers to make teachers pair them together for projects in the rare few classes they shared (this never worked; teachers liked Steve too much and hated Eddie).

Steve changes between junior and senior year and still doesn't notice Eddie. Eddie's kinda bitter about it.

Then Steve graduates, but doesn't leave. He's always hanging around, bothering the freshman Eddie's taken under his wing. He's not jealous that Dustin Henderson thinks Steve hung the moon. He's not. (he is).

Anyway, the bad news. Steve graduates but doesn't leave and Eddie can't get over his stupid crush. Good news, he and Steve share a mutual friend in one obnoxiously lovable freshman, so that's like one step closer to Eddie being Steve's friend, right?

-

The thing that's looming finally comes into view when his most recent memories come up. Or, more accurately, it -she- makes herself seen.

He's holding a broken bottle to Steve's neck demanding to know what he's doing here and then the scene pulls away from him until he's watching himself threaten Steve. The memory moves in slow motion.

"Eddie?"

He screams because Jesus H Christ nothing else in the afterlife has ever spoken to him.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you," she says. Eddie can see her now. She doesn't look like either an angel or a demon. She just looks like a regular person, a girl with shoulder length brown hair, wearing jeans and a yellow shirt that looks too big for her.

"Uh, it's fine?" Eddie says, because what else is he going to say? "Who're.. who are- what are you?"

"I am Eleven. It has been difficult to reach you, Eddie. Had to try, though."

"What?"

Eleven nods, like someone has said something he can't hear. There is a long pause before she speaks again. "Do you want to wake up, Eddie?"

"What do you mean wake up?" Eddie feels like he might start having a panic attack.

"I am not good with words. Not delicate, Mike would say," Eleven says, "so I will be frank. You are alive. Can be alive. Doctor Owens says you retreated into yourself. To protect yourself. But it's safe now. It is all safe. The Upside Down cannot hurt you again."

Eddie feels the panic set in almost instantly at those words. The memory explodes into black and the girl vanishes.

-

The more Eleven shows up, the more aware of other things Eddie becomes. Occasionally the sound of conversation drifts in but it's far away, muffled. He can taste food on his tongue that he had not eaten. Feel a brush get stuck in his hair.

They don't really talk, he and Eleven. She takes her queues from him and since he's got no idea what's happening he doesn't know what queues to give.

"So, you're not here to like... send me on, or something?" He asks. They're sitting cross-legged in front of each other. Eddie in the outfit he died in and Eleven in shorts, a crop top, and an oversized jacket.

"Where would I send you?"

"Y'know. Like... Hell or wherever."

Eleven is silent a long time before she says, "I don't want to send you anywhere. I want to bring you back."

Back. He can go back? That doesn't seem right. That doesn't seem like it should be an option. "You mean like, back to Hawkins?"

"Eventually."

Eddie's not sure what to make of that. Is he gonna be a ghost? Because if it's Hell or being a ghost, the latter sounds infinity more fun. Plus, as a ghost he could probably check in on Wayne.

"Alright. You win, Eleven. Take me back."

Eleven stands up immediately, offering a hand to help Eddie up. "You have to want it."

"Want to be a ghost?"

"No. You have to want to be alive."

That makes sense, Eddie supposes. Wanting to be alive is probably what makes ghosts be able to like, be ghosts. "OK. OK. I can do this." He does a full body shake, dancing from one foot to another to pump himself up. "Alive. Alive. I want that. I want to live. I want to see my uncle again. Want to give Hawkins a big fuck you for thinking I'd end up in Hell. I want to see Jeff and Gareth! I want to haunt the fuck out of Dustin Henderson for trying to follow me! I want to know if Robin, Steve, and Nancy won! I want to know if they made Vecna pay!"

He is yelling by the end of it, and Eleven is beaming at him like she's proud of him.

"Yes! Yes! Now, wake up!"

-

Eddie does wake up. Sort of. He's already awake, sitting in what appears to be someone's living room. He blinks several times before exhaustion washes over him and he sags back into the chair he's sitting in. "Wh-" he tried to speak but his vocal chords don't seem to want to work.

"Holy shit." A voice says off to his side. It's vaguely familiar. Like a distant memory. "Call Owens! Call Owens right fucking now!"

-

Bad news is this. He's been stuck in his own head for several years. His fucking body has been moving around without him yet the amount of physical therapy he has to do is torture. Fucking Owens won't let him contact anyone until he gets the all clear from his new therapist. Oh, and his uncle believes he's dead.

Good news is this. He's alive.

[sunlightmurdock]

i'm always thinking of being bradley's inexperienced controversially young girlfriend who also happens to be mav's daughter

got a lil carried away with this one bc it’s almost 2k words oops… warnings for obviously unspecified age gap, and dumbification a lil bit. Tried to keep this race inclusive despite dad Mav

I am pushing the deadbeat dad Mav agenda hard rn ,,, sorry Mav. So we all know Bradley had his issues with Mav, I’m gonna say that Bradley cut him off at around eighteen and didn’t really come back into contact with him until the events of TG:M, when he’s around 33/4. And we all know that Mav was a bit of a heartbreaker.

So, I’m going to say that it’s a while after Bradley cuts off Maverick that one of Mav’s exes comes to him and let’s him know that he has a daughter. He tries, but your relationship with him is consistently strained. You’re a lot like him and that scares him, he tries to control you and you hate that. He missed out on a lot in those years before he knew you, too.

You see him occasionally, less than frequently, through your adolescence and into early adulthood. You know all about Goose, and Goose’s son — your mother filled you in. You hadn’t ever really taken much time to think about the cute little blonde toddler dangling off of your father’s arm in of those photos from the eighties, and who he would be now. Truthfully, your intentions are as innocent as can be when you’re lounging on that beach and picking up a football that was kicked in your direction. There was no way you could’ve known who the tall, handsome brunette towering over you and asking if he knew you from somewhere was.

Sure, once you’d noticed that he was an aviator, maybe that should have put you off a little bit — but growing up this close to Miramar, if you struck off every guy in the Navy, you’d be single forever. And Rooster, the name he had given you, was a dream.

From that first day, inviting you and your friends to join his at their little bonfire on the beach, you had been hooked. Pretty brown eyes and a smile that made you want to melt, he drew you in and left the rest up to you. Inviting you to that bonfire, sitting at your side, acting like he was the perfect gentleman. Letting you do the work, prove that you wanted him.

And you had. Giggling at something that would soon spin into a full-blown inside joke between the two of you, you touched him for the first time. Just you palm, skimming briefly across his knee as you leaned into him, laughing.

Then, your arm looping around his as you shifted closer to keep warm. He chides you about not dressing appropriately for the late April weather, you remind him of his age. He smiles, hearing old man roll off your tongue, knowing that it’s anything but an insult coming from your mouth.

He doesn’t kiss you in front of his friends. You ask him to walk you home, already knowing that he will, since he’s such a gentleman. You weren’t planning on staying out that night, the t-shirt you had brought to wear over your swimsuit does nothing to protect you from that evening chill. But his arm does, when he’s got it draped around your shoulders, cuddling you into his side as you walk.

He’s bigger, far warmer, than you are. He tells you about his adventures as he walks you home. At your door, you both know that this isn’t going to be a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Still, he plays your game like it will be. His giant hand eclipsing the nape of your neck, pulling you into him so that he can kiss you. Up close, your head tips almost all the way back as he lips touch slowly against yours. Brief, disarmingly tender.

And then he pulls back, and he’s staring at you with those big, brown eyes and the freckles on his nose and those forming smile lines. You really can’t take any of the blame for the decisions you make when he’s staring at you like that.

You press forwards and kiss him again, harder than he had kissed you. If it had been anyone else, he might have been knocked back by your enthusiastic kiss, but he isn’t. He’s steady, grabbing your hips and walking back until you’re hitting your front door. Your heart’s beating a million times a minute and you’re willing yourself not to get in your head about this.

He lets you lead him through into your bedroom, your fingers knitted between his as you guide him along. Your buzz wearing off, he feels your confidence starting to falter as his hands are pushing up and under that thin t-shirt.

His voice feels like silk, making you close your eyes and hum eagerly in agreement as he asks if you’ll let him see you. Your experience doesn’t match his, that’s clear, but you don’t feel left behind. Even though it’s far from slow, he keeps you with him, setting the pace and making sure that you can keep up. He pulls you out of the bikini you had worn to the beach, working his warm mouth over each inch of newly uncovered skin.

You’ve had guys go down on you before, this isn’t the first time. You expect it to go as it always does: a few seconds of eager lapping at a spot vaguely close to your clit, and then him to pull back and start pushing down his shorts. As it turns out, you’re not as experienced as you had thought. Not when it comes to the things that Bradley can show you.

He presses two, thick fingers over your core and guides your excitement upwards, working them in slow, methodical circles around your core. God, pilots and their fucking steady hands. You’ve got Bradley moaning into your soaked cunt, his cock straining so hard against his shorts that he thinks for a second he might cum in them like some teenager.

Your thighs bracketing his ears, his fingers pressing hard into the soft flesh of your stomach as he holds you down to the mattress. You’re so sensitive, more fidgety than he’s used to — you can tell that he likes this.

He’s been thinking about this since he saw you laying in the sand, talking to your friends with that pretty little smile on your face. He groans as you jolt against his firm, wet tongue, pressing his fingers into you up to the knuckle. Your slick walls take the two digits perfectly, your back arching away from your sheets, rolling your hips down onto his tongue.

You’ll be embarrassed about that later, when he’s trailing his fingers along your bare stomach and he’s grinning, reminding you how you had chanted his name. It’s something that, with Rooster, you quickly learn not to be embarrassed about. He adores it when you do that.

Bradley sits back on his knees and pops open the button to his shorts, dragging the zipper down slowly, his muscled chest heaving. Kneeling over you like that, just watching you come down from clearly the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, he’s pleased with himself. And you, so eager and willing, are propping yourself up like you’re ready for more.

He cards a hand gently over the top of your hair, precise in his ability not to catch his fingers or tug at your texture, just caressing the back of your head as you sit up and kiss feverishly across his toned stomach.

You nose at the almost blonde trail of hair below his navel, following him as he pushes the band of his shorts down just enough to let his cock spring free. It sits in front of your chin as you look up at him and swallow.

“Another time.” He decides, giving the nape of your neck a quick squeeze with an amused smile on his lips.

Then, he’s pulling you under him, your hands are in his hair and your legs are hooked around his waist. He’s grinding the tip of his cock back and forth over your overstimulated core, gripping your jaw and sucking at your neck.

You whimper softly when he finally decides to give you what you’ve been begging him for, the tip of his cock pressing into you, his mouth trailing your jaw. The stretch is there, but it’s not a feeling of discomfort— just a brief need for pause — you barely notice it when he’s squeezing at your tits and telling you that you’re taking him so well.

Grabbing onto his thick shoulders, pressing your heel into the small of his back, lifting your head to try to kiss his plush lips.

He fucks you hard from the moment that you’ve eased into it, pounding into you until you’re too dumb to even beg him to keep going. But, he’s so tender about it. Groaning like he’s got some sympathy for how dumb he’s making you, kissing you softly while his hand’s knotted into your hair and tugging at your roots.

And he doesn’t leave right after, either, he kisses your cheeks, your chest until your head finally stops spinning long enough for you to laugh and swat him away.

“So, when am I seeing you again?” He asks, squeezing those big palms of his around your hips, still nestled between your legs even now that he’s back in his boxers. You should be shy, with the wolfish way that his gaze will drop occasionally to rake over your naked body. But you aren’t. You want him to keep looking.

“Mm, I have to meet my dad for something tomorrow,” You give a small shrug and glance behind you to see what you’re lying uncomfortably back against. Bradley’s lips quirk as you tug the stuffed rabbit from behind you and hug it to your chest. “I’m free after seven.”

He leans down, squashing the rabbit between your chest and his to kiss your lips. “How about you come over to my place and I’ll fuck you in a bed without so many guests in it?”

Your cheeks burn at his acknowledgment of the couple of stuffed animals you’ve got dotted around, but you grin and nod anyway.

“You want me to pick you up?” Bradley offers, kneading at the flesh of your thighs with his warm hands, kissing you slowly again.

“Mm, no,” You give a quick shake of your head and press your foot into his thigh, “My dad would probably just interrogate you. I’ll drive.”

Bradley chuckes, handsome in the warm glow of your bedside lamp as he slides his hands down and squeezes at your ankles. “Well, sure. He’s gotta make sure you’re safe.”

“Mhm,” You nod your head slowly, sitting up and hooking your legs over his hips, crawling into his lap. Your arms drape around his thick shoulders. “I don’t think he’d like the thought of me and you together very much.”

Both of you unknowing, Bradley just chuckles and turns his face in towards the crook of your neck to leave you with a kiss.

anyway how long do we think the two of you make it before Maverick finds out?

[albaskies]

But Daddy, I love him!

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3's The Tortured Potters Department - Several Sunlit Daylights Fest | Also on AO3:

Ginny is extremely pleased with herself for having somehow managed to turn the candles in her room back on. She hasn’t done it on purpose, of course, nor has she premeditated it - she simply squeezed her eyes shut, wishing so very hard that she didn’t have to go to sleep, and upon opening them, she found her room dimly lit again. She’s started to display her first signs of magic lately, and she’s very proud of having caught up with her brothers in that regard, of being one step closer to them. Sometimes she finds herself dreaming that, if she keeps up with this pace and maybe if she manages to practise a bit, she’ll receive her Hogwarts letter early and she’ll be able to join Bill and Charlie there…

A gentle knock on the door distracts her from her thoughts, and her father enters the room, his glasses slid down the tip of his nose, his smile drowsy. 

‘Ginny,’ he sighs, but still looking at her fondly. He seems to have decided to ignore the candles that are inexplicably lighting the room. ‘Shouldn’t you be asleep already?’

Ginny shrugs, a wry smirk painted on her face. She’s relieved that it’s her dad who’s found her still awake, rather than her mum. Her mum would hush her back to bed, not wanting to hear a single word - but with her dad, she knows she has more leeway, she knows that he’ll sit with her and watch her until she falls asleep.

‘Can you tell me the story of the Boy Who Lived?’

Her father sighs again, as he approaches her bed and sits down next to her. She scooches over, trying to leave as much space as she can for him to be comfortable.

‘Why do you like that story so much?’

‘Because,’ says Ginny, taking a big breath. ‘Well, because I love him, Daddy!’

Her dad’s eyes are bewildered as he lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Oh, do you now? And why’s that?’

‘Because he’s all alone, his Mummy and Daddy died and he doesn’t have any brothers or sisters,’ replies Ginny, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Mum said that he needs everyone’s love, so maybe I can give him some, too.’

Her father looks at her tenderly, almost in disbelief, as if he’s wondering how they’ve managed to raise such a kind and loving soul. 

‘You know what, Ginny, I think you’re quite right. I’m sure he could use some love from everyone.’ he tells her, gently stroking her hair. ‘Come on now, lay down properly and I’ll tell you the story.’

She beams at him, and soon falls asleep to the sound of words she knows too well; words about a dark-haired boy, a lightning scar, and the sheer power of love.

-

The storm has finally ended, and now a thick, shiny blanket of snow covers the orchard at the Burrow like a layer of frosting on her favourite desserts. She’ll be able to play outside tomorrow - building snow wizards and witches or snowball fighting with her brothers, and hopefully someone will enchant the snowballs just to add a little more fun to the game. But Ginny - elbows on her desk, head held between her hands, her eyes fixed outside the window - isn’t particularly excited about the prospect, or excited at all for that matter. Quite the contrary, actually - she is really, really furious with her brother for spending his second Christmas in a row away from home, leaving her alone once again. It was bad enough, last year - but, at least, her parents had taken her to Romania to visit Charlie, and she had become used to Ron’s absence anyway, so she had stopped holding a grudge relatively quickly. This year she’s home, and everyone else is home too, but Ron has chosen to stay at Hogwarts. He was not forced by the circumstances, or else - it was his conscious, deliberate choice.

The truth is that she’s not just angry about Christmas, but about the whole stupid term, too. After spending every single day of their lives together for ten years, and after waiting for twelve exasperating months just to join him, Ron has barely ever spent any time with her at school. She’s quite sure that he’s even tried to avoid her intentionally on a couple of occasions. To make everything much worse, it’s been rather challenging for her to make new friends this year - which is odd, she reckons, considering that she’s normally very outgoing and fun to talk to. She’d hoped that Ron could’ve helped, that’s all. But his new circle of very important friends doesn’t seem to have a spot for her now, and certainly it doesn’t help that one of these friends is -

Her heart sinks in her stomach. Somehow, she can’t shake off the strange feeling of disappointment over Harry not being here, either. She’d wished she were able to spend more time with him outside of school; she had even rehearsed a couple of things to say in his presence, and she was sure, so very sure, that she wouldn’t have blushed this time. Well, it hadn’t been her idea, actually, but she’d been positive it would’ve worked. The only friend she’s been able to make this year has assured her of that.

A casual knock on her door startles her, but she doesn’t turn around to check who’s entered her room. She knows all too well that only her father would bother to knock on a door that’s been left open anyway. 

‘Ready to come down, Ginny?’, she hears his voice say, confirming her suspicions. ‘Or do you intend to keep sulking up here for a while longer?’

She feels a little embarrassed by his question but, when she turns around to look at him, she finds with slight relief that his glare isn’t harsh or judgemental.

‘It’s not fair, Dad!’, she complains. ‘Why did you let Ron stay at Hogwarts for the holidays?’

‘He wanted to keep his friends company. I think that’s actually very nice,’ her father calmly replies. She knows that by his friends he really means Harry, because she reckons Hermione has a nice family to go back to. Although, it’s rather weird that she decided to stay, too - maybe she also wanted to keep Harry company? She bitterly concludes that she doesn’t know, nor she ever will, because nobody tells her anything, nobody includes her in anything, she’s always left behind.

‘Harry could’ve come over too, couldn’t he?’, she then asks without thinking.

‘Well, of course we would’ve been happy to have him, but I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.’

Not knowing what he means, she feels suddenly irritated, almost as if her father intended to suggest that Harry didn’t want to spend Christmas at the Burrow because of her. That would make sense, actually, given that she hasn’t been able to behave like a normal person every time they’ve been in the same room. What if she’s annoyed him beyond repair? What if he… hates her now?

‘But I really don’t understand why Harry wouldn’t want to -’

‘Maybe we should leave Harry and his business alone for the time being, don’t you think?’, suggests her father gingerly.

Another wave of humiliation rushes through her body, as she feels that her father’s just simultaneously exposed and dismissed one of her deepest secrets. But she has to defend it, doesn’t she, she has to stand up for herself -

‘But Daddy, I love him!’, she shouts, yet flushing, feeling more ashamed than ever.

Her father gives her a puzzled look, his lips pursed together in a thin line. ‘Don’t be silly, Ginny,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘Come on now, go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.’

Ginny gives him another sheepish look as he leaves the room without uttering another word, but she doesn’t obey straight away. Instead, she quickly grabs her diary like it’s a magnet, suddenly feeling the urge to let out all her frustration, shame and dejection. 

I love him, but nobody believes me, she writes, warm tears filling up her eyes. Nobody understands.

Within a few seconds, her words made of ink sink into the rough paper, and new ones slowly emerge in that all-too-familiar fashion.

I do understand you, Ginny, they read. I am the only one who does.

-

It almost feels surreal - to be home. To eat properly, to rest, to finally lower her guard; to escape from all the secrecy, the plotting, the sneaking around, and, well, yes, from all the punishments, the physical strain, and the emotional abuse. 

She hasn’t realised how drained she’s felt until she sinks in her favourite plush chair in the living room of the Burrow, surrounded by her family, feeling warm again. She even manages to avoid the prying eyes, quietly dozing off for a little while. But then she’s awakened by a soft thump - something small and smooth has been thrown into her lap.

‘Is it true, then?’, asks George, while she examines the familiar coin he’s passed on to her. ‘Have you reinstated the D.A.?’

Before she can answer, her mother glares at her with fire in her eyes.

‘I should hope not, Ginny.’

Ginny feels a sudden rush of annoyance tingling her body. Always the last, always protected, always underestimated. Always meant to be left behind.

‘Of course we have,’ she says mildly. ‘They’re torturing children for fun, you know.’

‘And what do you do when that happens?’, argues her mother sharply. ‘Do you take their place?’

As she does not reply, her mother’s expression changes from indignation to pure horror, her gaze darting quickly between Ginny’s face and that faded blue turtleneck jumper she’s wearing for the first time in years. She’s noticed, then.

‘Take off that jumper, Ginny.’

‘No.’

‘I said,’ her mother pleads, now shouting in fury. ‘Take off that jumper, now!’

Ginny isn’t really sure whether her refusal stems from her desire to spare her mother from further suffering, to protect her from the cuts, the bruises and scars she carries on her body like medals; or whether it comes from her own pride, her will to show that she, too, can fight. 

She storms off to her bedroom, slamming the door, and she’s surprisingly left alone long enough for her to lie down and enjoy some quiet, exhausted by her own anger. Her bed feels softer than she could remember, her room like her only sanctuary in all the chaos.

The knock on the door she’s been expecting is weak and hesitant, and her father enters the room cautiously, almost as if he expects something to explode at any moment. She takes advantage of the silence to observe him, to register every new line around his mouth, every new wrinkle around his eyes. He seems to have aged years in the span of just a few short months.

She raises her back and sits on the bed, still saying nothing. He breaks the silence first, watching her gravely, cutting straight to the chase.

‘Has your brother asked you to do this, Ginny?’, he asks, unable to fully conceal the bitterness in his voice. ‘Or Harry, for that matter?’

She shivers at the sound of his name, her eyes are now burning, but she doesn’t lower her gaze.

‘No, of course not.’

Her father exhales heavily, as if releasing a tension he’s been holding in his chest for Merlin knows how long, and sits down next to her on the bed.

‘Why do you do it, then?’, he asks her plainly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no resentment. ‘Why do you put your life on the line like that?’

This is when she immediately looks away, feeling a strange lump in her throat.

‘Why do you do it, Dad?’, she barely manages to say, her voice shaking. 

He sighs again, defeated. ‘You should lay low, Ginny. You’re already very much in danger as it is, being a Weasley. No matter all the stories we’ve made up to cover for Harry, Snape knows that our family is close to him, and that means you as well.’

Ginny scoffs. A few months ago, she would’ve found such a comment insulting, belittling, maybe even a little heartbreaking. But now she’s so full of it - she’s so full of having to endure people passing judgements on what she is or isn’t for Harry, so full of having to pretend that they are nothing, so full of being scared to death that she’ll end up convincing herself, too. She can’t resist the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all - or, even more so, the urge to let it all out, to say it exactly as it is, because she doesn’t owe it to anyone to remain on the sidelines, not her mother, not her father, especially not Harry.

‘Oh, it’s much worse than that,’ she hisses, her sarcasm tainted with pure spite.

Her father gives her a quizzical look. She fixes her glare on him now, her voice no longer shaking, her eyes no longer stinging with tears.

‘I love him, Dad,’ she says, then lets out another high-pitched laugh. ‘It’s sickening, isn’t it? It makes me fucking sick.’

He looks at her, transfixed, too appalled to scold her for her language. After so many years, it still surprises him. But there’s something different in the way she’s said it now, something that wasn’t there when she was five or eleven years old. Disillusionment, anger, sadness. Maturity. Acceptance.

His eyes glimmer as if he’s just finally laid the final piece in one of his Muggle puzzles, and the full picture finally comes to life. He seems, somehow, to understand it all at once. 

‘And he loves you too, I suppose?’

Ginny feels a familiar, but long forgotten heat creeping on her cheeks. For a short moment, it feels good to blush again.

‘I reckon he does, yes,’ she whispers. Those words feel weird exposed to the real world - she’s never acknowledged it out loud, and Harry certainly has never told her. Hers is just a hunch, a gut feeling, maybe an innocent hope, something she’s never dared to question. Now that she’s said them, those words don’t lose their meaning, as she feared they would - rather, they resonate even stronger in her, they just click, everything falls into place, but they don’t make her nearly as happy as they probably should have.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says bitterly, before her father can say anything. She reads it all over his face - the doubt, the concern, the suspicion. She shrugs. ‘He’s already taken care of it.’

For a short moment that seems suspended in time, they look at each other - a daughter that’s had to grow up way too soon, a father who’s understood that there are things he cannot shelter her from. 

He then awkwardly pats her on her back, stands up, and leaves her room in silence, at a loss for words. 

She, for one, is grateful that he hasn’t doubted her heart this time.

-

Their wedding is a rather small affair. 

The marquee that had been previously used for Bill and Fleur’s wedding feels bigger than ever, now hosting barely thirty of them between their massive family, a handful of grandchildren, and their closest friends. 

It has been Ginny and Harry’s desire to throw a modest party in the orchard, without making too much fuss, avoiding lavish and crowded celebrations. After all, the saviour of the Wizarding world marrying an internationally renowned Quidditch player is exactly that kind of event a horde of journalists and curious onlookers would throw themselves at, like a swarm of bees on a honey jar. So they’ve decided to keep it low and simple - just like their whole romance, after all.

If it were for Ginny, she would’ve got married wearing Muggle clothes somewhere deep in a forest, standing on a random rock, for all that she cares. But she didn’t want to rob her parents of the joy of walking their only daughter down the aisle, or her brothers of the opportunity of celebrating their only sister on one of the happiest days of her life. And Harry has happily obliged - ultimately, it is his family, too.

‘I just want to marry you,’ he said once, grinning madly, his green eyes flashing like the day he kissed her for the first time, that tenth of May of exactly five years ago.

And so here they are now, under the marquee, everyone either dancing, running around or mingling, champagne bubbling in their goblets (‘I’d still fancy a posh drink at my own wedding, thank you very much’), married at last.

Ginny smiles as she watches her (she feels heat all over her body to even fathom the word) husband trying to dance with her mother, his new mother-in-law, who is sobbing rather uncontrollably on his shoulder, dampening his new elegant robes. Harry has the most loving look in his eyes as he gently pats her on her back, and Ginny can’t help but notice that he’s a little choked up, too.

She’s so mesmerised by the two of them, so full of love, that it takes her a while to notice that her father has joined her, and is now staring at her with a knowing look painted on his face.

‘What?’, she laughs.

He grins at her tenderly, putting an arm around her shoulders.

‘You love him, don’t you?’

Ginny lets out another laugh. ‘Oh, d’you reckon? Whatever gave it away?’

Her father smiles again, wider this time, squeezing her tightly. 

‘You might have mentioned it, you know, once or twice.’

[shadowsandshapes]

[Spicy] Calling the Shots (F!Reader/Tomura Shigaraki)

Summary: Too much screen time isn't good for you, so you decide to take matters into your own hands when Shigaraki is spending all day playing video games. You know just how to treat him right.

Rated: For Fuck's Sake Do Not Read This In Public You Heathen, Don’t Show Your Mom, Don’t Show Your Dad – Repent Afterwards, Amen! (Mature) 

Contains: Mommy Kink, Unprotected Sex, Praise, Denial Play, Body Worship Themes, Submissive Shigaraki

MINORS DNI 🔪

Ao3: [HERE]

“Tomura –” 

At the sound of your voice, Shigaraki looked up from his game to find you sprawled across his bedsheets. You sounded stern when you spoke and he realized you were scolding him for being glued to the screen again.

“Yes, (Y/n)?” If it were anyone else, he would have told them to fuck off. But not you – not his beautiful, beloved darling girl.

Your hands traveled down your body, making a show of groping your curves for him before settling on your breasts – an open invitation. “Come here, baby –” you purr, half-lidded eyes gleaming with desire. Tomura’s throat ran dry as you spread your legs. He couldn’t look away – not even the siren call of his character getting brutally murdered in-game was enough to tear his eyes away from you. Game Over. You patted the edge of the bed. “Sit right here for me, baby boy –” and he didn’t hesitate, dumping his game on the floor unceremoniously to heed your request.

The way he scrambled to please you had your heart racing. Tomura was such a precious thing – especially when he shivered beneath your touch like this. Your fingers scratched their way up the side of his neck, moving to tangle with his pretty white locks. He groaned – eyes closing as you tugged at the strands. “(Y/n)...” he begged – oh, what a lovely sound. 

“Are you gonna be good for me, Tomura?” you asked, slinging your leg across his lap to straddle him beneath you. Your lips pressed against his neck – he swallowed, hard. There was nothing quite like making the big, bad Tomura Shigaraki squirm. He sputtered something incoherent and you tugged at his hair again. “Well? Use your words. If you don’t want it, I can–”

His reaction was immediate: “No! Don’t go. I’ll be good – I’ll be good!” Desperate, crimson eyes stared back at you – saturated with longing and desire. The sight brought a smirk to your lips. “Please…I wanna feel good.”

How could you refuse? 

A quick shove had him falling back onto the bed – Shigaraki watched with bated breath as you crawled on top of him. Something about your eyes – the intensity and fire of them – had him feeling weak in the knees. No one else could ever treat him like this. No one would ever earn his submission like this. Only you. Whenever you got like this, he felt like he was losing his mind. One moment you were the sweet girl he’d claimed as his own, the next you had him begging and crying for the most filthy things. The thought alone was enough to make his cock rock hard. 

You made quick work of his clothes, discarding them on the floor, then worked on your own. Tomura liked the lingerie you wore, so you kept your bra and stockings on – just for him. Sure enough – his lust-blown eyes honed in on your chest as soon as you took your shirt off. The way he licked his lips caught your attention. Fuck. His lovestruck admiration was making your body tingle. The man certainly knew how to make a girl feel special – Tomura was practically drooling at the sight of you. You wouldn’t deny it was one hell of a confidence boost. 

The tips of your fingers brushed over his cock, barely ghosting the skin with their touch. Tomura whined, bucking his hips to chase the friction in vain. You laughed. “Easy now – there’s no rush.” Oh but there was. Your lovely boyfriend was a desperate little man and you knew it. The moment you had presented yourself, Tomura was already overcome with need. Touch was a big thing for him, after all. He had developed a habit of chasing intimacy at every opportunity and you had taken it upon yourself to teach him patience. 

Some things ought to be savored. 

You pumped his cock – marveling at the sweet sounds Tomura was making. He kept one of his knuckles pressed between his teeth but it did nothing to muffle his moans. “You’re so loud,” you teased. “I love it. Go on, baby – let it out.” The smooth motion of your hand on his cock and your words of encouragement made him break his inhibitions. Gasps, groans and curses poured from his lips as he thrashed on the bed, bucking his hips into your palm. Every flick of your wrist had his inching closer to release. His cock throbbed at your touch and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at how easily you made him feel so good. Just as he was about to cum, you withdrew – holding your hands up.

“Fuck, no –” Tomura groaned out – giving you the nastiest, most desperate glare he could muster in his current state. It gave you immense satisfaction to see him reduced to a whining mess like this. “Please – let me finish,” he pleaded, struggling to catch his breath as you ran a single finger around the base of his shaft. “Please, please, please –” Wait for it… “Please, mommy, please –”

There it was. 

“Good boy, Tomura –” you praised, leaning down to lick a single, teasing strip up the side of his cock. He groaned sweetly – tossing his head back in pure bliss as you mounted his lap. “You want me to ride you, sweet boy?” You grinded your hips against him, slicking up his cock with your own juices. If he had a response ready, it died in his throat as a loud moan took its place. 

Eventually, Tomura managed to respond. “Yes, mommy, please –” 

Holy shit. You didn’t think you’d be into this so much, but hearing his broken voice beg for you to fuck him was driving you crazy. He looked so hot, biting at his bottom lip to fight the urge to moan. Hair all messed up and pupils blown wide with lust. You sank down on his cock, keeping your eyes glued to his face. His expression changed – flooding with relief as you rocked your hips. You could feel him twitching inside of you, eager for release. His hands felt lonely though. Touching you was risky, but you had a system in place for that too. As soon as you got a rhythm going, you leaned forward and pinned his hands to the mattress. He kept his palms open but allowed you to grab onto them. There was something so intimate about the gesture that had him addicted to it. Tomura could only stare up at you as you rode his cock, drinking in the sight of you. Such a beautiful and amazing creature. Unafraid of his love. He watched your body move against his – noting every curve and dip of your silhouette. The lace of your bra against your skin was so tempting – so gorgeous. The fact that you kept it on for him made his heart race. 

You had delayed his release – but it was still fast approaching. Your tightening cunt had him seeing stars and when you kissed his lips it was all over. You swallowed his cry of pleasure – feeling him shake and shudder as he emptied himself within you. Every buck of your hips was accompanied by a spurt of his seed, allowing you to ride out your own orgasm. In the end, you’d made quite a mess of his sheets, but it had been worth it. Ragged breathing filled the silence. Both yours and his. Your fingers brushed across Tomura’s palms as he came down from his high – you rolled off him, taking your place by his side. He cuddled closer and you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Bath time,” you announced. Aftercare was important too – and you both smelled like sweat.

“Just a minute –” he said. “Let me enjoy this just a little longer.”

Alright. You could agree to that – “Cuddles and then bath.”

“Deal.”

A/N: I...I don't know what to say for myself honestly. Give me a submissive man and I lose it. I know this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, but as a notorious switch I crave control over men.

[masterlist]

[secret-sturniolo]

SFW Alphabet - Matt Sturniolo

a/n - please remember these are only my opinions! You are allowed to disagree, but be respectful about it!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

In private, his hands are all over you, giving you hugs, kisses, cuddles, everything. He doesn't like PDA though, so in public the most he would do is hold your hand,

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hes the kind of guy you would meet through a friend of a friend, and it's kindof a slow-burn friendship where things start slow, but get serious really quickly. He would always be there for you, assuring you that you can come to him about anything, and telling you how much you mean to him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loooves being the big spoon and falling asleep with you in his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Matt totally wants to have a family some day, when the time is right. He would try to help out around the house as much as he can, sometimes even doing more work than you.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would try his best to end things on civil terms, letting you know that he would still be there for you if you ever needed anything. However, if he was breaking up with you for reasons like being cheated on, he would lose all respect for you and cut you out completely.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Matt would love to get married to the love of his life. For timing, he would kind of feel things out with you. He doesn't want to rush anything, but also wouldn't say no to a spur of the moment engagement if things felt right.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is the most gentle, empathetic person you have ever met. He seems so in tune with his own, and your emotions, not afraid to have tough conversations about them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes! Hugs from behind are his favorite. When he hugs you, the smell of him, whether it be his cologne or shampoo, makes you feel so calm and content.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes him a little bit, maybe a few weeks or a month, but he wants you to know exactly how much he cares about you so he isn't afraid to say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's kind of a toss up. Most of the time he is not a jealous person and doesn't mind when you talk to other guys in a friendly way, but say you were somewhere like a party and guys were coming up to you, he would take you away from them, wanting you all to himself.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Matt is suchhhh a good kisser. Sometimes, he will cover your whole face in kisses while you giggle and try to escape his arms. He loves it when you leave small kisses on his jaw or even the tip of his nose.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He adores little children. He loves to make them laugh, or smile and wave at kids in passing. He gives off major "cool dad" vibes.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Some mornings, you both have work to do so you have to get up. Other mornings, you just lay in each other's arms, talking about whatever comes to mind.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Late nights with Matt are the best. There are a variety of activities you guys like to do. Sometimes you will play video games with him, throw a movie on, go for a drive, or get food. Sometimes his brothers are there too, but if there's ever a time you just want to be alone with him, he agrees, no questions asked.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Matt is a pretty open book with most things, encouraging you to be vulnerable with him, too. He feels very comfortable with you, and he trusts that you would keep things between you and him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

With most people, especially his brothers, he is super short tempered. With you? Everything changes. He honestly enjoys it when you do things to purposely annoy him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Matt is super attentive, not wanting to forget anything. Things like your birthday, middle name, favorite color, favorite song? He knows them all.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He would cherish all the small moments shared between him and you, that only the two of you would know about.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He gets protective sometimes in settings like parties or events, but he also knows that you can hold your own most of the time. He's always close by if you need him, though.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He is on his A game 100% of the time! He wants every moment with you to be special.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He knows you don't like it when he bites his nails, and he tries his hardest not to with your help.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's good looking, but he also doesn't have a big ego about it. He wants to look presentable, but doesn't usually put a lot of work into outfits or hairstyles.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Somewhat? He loves being with you, but also respects that you two are separate people and you need to do things separately sometimes.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

This man lowkey knows how to cook (as long as he has a recipe).

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

We all know how much he hates ketchup. In a person, he doesn't like people who try too hard to be cool or impress him. Ultimately, if he feels like he can't connect with you, he won't want to be around you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Because he stays up so late, he tends to sleep in until late afternoon. He has a hard time falling asleep if you aren't with him, wrapped in his arms.