#hes about to read the most fucked up bedtime story that he could think of.. i would say that's kind of cute but i don't wanna give him that

[thrilloffirstlove]

Why does Rick look like that. Why.

[i-cant-sing]

Okay okay, I have another idea-

Yandere dad Nanami x Nanami reader

I've made yall see the menace Fushiguro reader who we all love and adore, but let's talk about Nanami's daughter who is an absolute angel and polar opposite to Fushiguro reader.

Child reader is just the most well behaved kid, listens to her father always, and since Nanami is raising her, she's also going to be very good in her studies because papa Nanami is a very good teacher. I mean, reader is definitely on top of her class and has a whole wall dedicated to her awards and medals. She just has to show off her math skills when she plays cafe (because obv she's gonna be a baker who bakes fresh bread daily for Nanami to buy and make sandwiches) and uses Monopoly money.

And when I say reader is polite, that is the understatement of the history. She just cannot bear to offend anyone! She has to put "-san" with everyone's name and has to address them correctly. "Yuji-san! Megumi-San!" And "pervert-San!" Which is Gojo, because of course Nanami has told her to beware of him and only address him as "pervert-san".

"But my name's Gojo!" He tells you, but you're so distressed because dad told you to call the white haired man wearing a blindfold/glasses "pervert-san" and it'd be rude to address him as anything else!

And Nanami adores his kid so much. She's such a perfect child, never breaks rules (don't talk to strangers or Pervert san.) and is such a goody-goody. He is a present father, he makes time for you. The Jujutsu sorcerers can wait, the world can be saved by someone else, but he needs to attend your school play at all costs. And even when hes not around for the day, he has raised you to be a very responsible child- like you even go get the groceries on your own when dad is late! (Like that Japanese show in which they send kids to shop on their own)

But of course, there are times when he needs to be away for longer periods, so he needs to hire a babysitter. His top choices: Shoko(although hes a little hesitant since you have a morbid curiosity learning and Shoko would happily let you accompany her to the morgue), Yuta, Maki, Megumi + Yuji + Nobara.

Who is NEVER allowed to babysit you? Gojo.

Gojo babysits anyway. (He fr steals you from Megumi trio)

And Nanami just comes home to Gojo and reader eating takeout and he's just like "Y/n, how could you let Pervert san in your home and eat with him?" And reader's just on the brink of tears and is trying to defend herself "b-but you said to be polite to guests! And Pervert-san bought food for me. Wouldn't it be rude to not share it with him?" *reader's teary eyes* and then Gojo is like "you'd rather let your child starve? Can't you see how tiny she already is?!" *Gojo's teary eyes* and Nanami pops a vein "it's not cute when you do it!"And then kicks Gojo out of the house.

Even though reader can dress herself up appropriately, she still has to have her hair done by Nanami, no matter what age. At some point, reader probably realises that it's something Nanami needs more than she does. It's a tradition, you think, but it's actually a coping mechanism for Nanami to deal with the fact that you're "growing up" and don't ask him to watch cartoons with you or read you bedtime stories anymore🥺

And Sukuna??? He takes one look at you and he's already decided he's gonna be mean to you, but then the more time you spend with him and Yuji, the more he realises.... its just not worth being mean to the only person who is so sweet to him and actually greets and talks to him like he's an individual person and not just a parasite inside Yuji's skin. Like reader just goes "Sukuna-san! I'm painting Yuji-san's nails but he can't pick a color. Will you help?" And he's like "Alright, fuck it I'm taking this brat with me when I comit mass murder. She's safe."

I feel like Nanami will allow reader to have a fairly normal childhood, so he keeps his yandere tendencies at a bay. It's when you start growing up and as he says "the others try to taint you with momentary pleasures" that his yandereness begins to show. Honestly, it's just more of his protective tendencies coming to light than anything else. He thinks people don't have your best interests in and sometimes he's right, but how else will you learn if you don't experience it?

Also, if you do end up having cursed energy and the ability to see curses, I think that's when Nanami starts spiralling down. He does not want you to become a Jujutsu sorcerer, he wants you far far away from the Jujutsu world completely. He can't- he can't allow what happened to Haibrara happen to you. He can't allow your innocence and naivety to be tainted by the horrendous world of curses. He'd rather risk you hating him forever as he locks you away than allow you to put your life at risk for others.

You are his priority. Your safety is his priority. You'll understand in due time why he did what he did, so while his heart does break hearing you cry and beg to be let out of your room, he doesn't regret putting you in there one bit.

Nanami sighs as he continues prepping your dinner. Guess he'll have to add some crushed sleeping pills so that you don't get sick from crying your bodyweight out (or more like he can't bear to see you in such a pitiful state.)

God save the poor souls who do end up kidnapping you.

[paddockbunny]

You write for my boy mick? Say no more 😩 Can you write something with the numbers 19 and 51 from the nsfw promt list? pretty please and thank you 🥺

"Good Girl"

Summary : He's so sweet and innocent, isn't he? What happens when Mick takes you home to meet his family for the first time? And what happens when you decide you've had enough of the good boy narrative that keeps being spun about him? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Mick Schumacher x Reader Word Count : 1,651. Trigger Warnings : NSFW, 18+, Adult language, dirty talk, slight choking & muffling, fingering, PinV sex, unprotected sex. 💞Authors Note : This hasn’t been properly proof read due to time constraints with irl work, please keep that in mind ✌🏼

Finally, the door closed behind you as you reached the safety of the bedroom. This weekend was fine but that was all it was, just fine. It wasn’t great or fabulous. It was fine.

Mick had invited you to spend the weekend with him at his families place in Switzerland. More fool you for thinking he meant the two of you, alone. You didn’t realise till you pulled up to the impressive large house that Mick in fact was introducing you to his family and that they would all be there. You had only been officially dating two maybe three months. It wasn’t enough time to start meeting parents and siblings in your opinion. Hell, you weren’t even sure you would ever feel comfortable enough to introduce Mick to yours. He had this picture perfect family where as yours? Well anyone could be forgiven for thinking they seemed like a bunch of misfit miscreants all conjured up as if for a joke. I mean really, Adams Family came to mind. But then you had never laughed so much as you did at home. You didn’t feel as relaxed anywhere else than at home and you never felt more loved than you did at home either.

But, after all the introductions and the utterly terrifying moment of meeting his dad – Mick trusting you enough to bring you into the inner sanctum of the Schumacher family – you somewhat settled. You listened to his sister mock her little brother while her boyfriend sucked up to his mother-in-law. Corinna was nice but you were aware she wasn’t too happy that you were in her house so quickly into your relationship with her son. Something, which considering the circumstances you couldn’t exactly blame her for.

So after hours of listening to what a good boy Mick is and how he was the perfect prodigal son carrying on his father’s legacy, you were more than happy when Mick announced it was bedtime.

He lay down on the bed and let an exasperated apology leave his lips. “…. No really, I’m so sorry y/n, they can be a little much.” In your mind you replied with a “You don’t say” but you decided it might come out in the wrong way so stayed silent. It was all so new after all, your relationship. Insinuating his family (his precious family that he was incredibly close too) were a little too much would be all kinds of wrong. You’d never be able to recover from that. But then you saw him stretched out on his bed. One arm propped up behind his head and his shirt dangerously open. Fuck, he really was beautiful. Mick reminded you of some old-fashioned German prince or even a knight from a fairy story you would have read as a kid. No one could ever hold it against you for how much you craved him. How much your body felt like it was desperate for oxygen while you were in his presence. But most of all, how much your pussy always seemed to flutter whenever he did something so fucking simple like lying down on a bed.

You went to the en suite and even from the mirror you couldn’t escape him. His position was reflected back at you and you had to close the door a little because you almost couldn’t hold yourself back from jumping on him and begging him to fuck you. You reminded yourself were in his parent’s house and it was all kinds of wrong to be getting all hot and bothered here. It wasn’t respectful of you to desperately want the youngest Schumacher to slide his fingers into your panties or have you spread eagled on the bed while he made you scream with his tongue. But then that side of your brain couldn’t switch off and you pressed your thighs together to stop the deep burning for contact in you core.

You heard him call on you from the adjoining room and in a millisecond you pushed absolutely everything about being disrespectful out of your mind. You rid yourself of your top first. Then the jeans were quick to follow. Looking in the mirror you were certainly glad you wore pretty lace underwear today. Because after all, if you were going to hell for fucking Mick in his teenage bedroom then the devil would tell you you looked good.      

“Fuck…” Fell from Mick’s lips as soon as he saw you. You had strolled out from the en suite with unwavering confidence. The same confidence poured out of you when you went directly to him and got on the bed. Well, you didn’t just get on the bed. You straddled his lap. Your inner thighs burning deliciously as they opened widely across his hips Your dampening core grazed against his jeans clad crotch and the contact was enough for your stomach to flip with excitement. “You’re so innocent aren’t you?” You had established right from the first time you and Mick had slept together that he liked dirty talk. That it turned him on to no end and he fully admitted that he could get off on it without even being touched. And no time seemed better for you to give your brain a sexual work out than right now. Mick didn’t reply so you continued; “Hmmm….” You purred as you leaned down and brushed his shirt-covered chest with your bra-covered breasts. “You’re use to good, morally virtuous little girls aren’t you Mick? Not being corrupted by big bad girls like me.” Your hands pushed through his hair before trailing down to his neck. He loved his neck being kissed and you were more than happy to oblige him. His mouth fell open as you finally gave him the contact that he wanted. A breath caught in his throat as he struggled to whimper your name but you didn’t want to waste any time.

“I want you inside of me Mick.” It poured from you in whisper that caressed his ear. The words hitting him in synchronised time as your panty covered core ground against his crotch. He was unmistakably hard and you were unmistakably wet. A shaky breath left his mouth as you grabbed his hand, removing it from your hip, and without any hesitation you slipped it down and inside of your soaked panties. Exactly where you wanted his touch the most. “Do you feel how wet I am for you?” “Liebling, we can’t…” He tried to deny the inevitable but he couldn’t deny what his fingertips were feeling, or how painful his erection would be getting confined in his pants. You felt his index and middle finger caress you and it made a shudder run all over your body. “Please Mick, don’t make me beg.” It fell from your lips as his fingers rubbed up and down your folds before settling on your aching, sensitive little bud. It was your mouth that fell open when he started moving his fingers in teasing, torturous circles. “Right there…” Your words left you in a whimper. You were desperate for him to pick up his pace. To go faster and allow the feeling to build. You wanted him to make you cum and you didn’t mind if it was his fingers, mouth or cock that got you there. You were so lost in the moment – so lost in the thought of him bringing you to orgasm like this – that you almost completely missed the swear words that fell from his mouth before he pulled his hand out of your panties and ripped away the contact. Ready to protest your eyes flew open and mouth followed but then suddenly, without warning you were on your back.

Mick took back control and wasted no time in getting rid of his shirt and started on his pants. Your hands lazily trailed down his mouth-watering chest and abs, his eyes staring into yours and his you could feel the heat emanating from them. This was the Mick you knew. He wasn’t as sweet and innocent as his family (and the rest of the world) thought he was. Your eyes went down to his pants as he unbuckled his belt and your mouth salivated as he pulled out his huge engorged cock. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as he roughly yanked your soaked panties down and off.

“Not so innocent now baby…” Mick’s pleasant scoff met your ears as his hand went under your thigh and pulled your leg up and around his waist as he toyed with you. He knew how much you wanted him inside of you and so he lazily ran the purple head of his cock up and down your folds while his mouth finally descended upon yours. You were in a situation of your own doing. He was going to drag this out now. But then he surprised you. As he slid his tongue over yours, he pushed in. He slid his whole, large cock into you and you moaned loudly into his mouth instinctively.

“Y/n, you’re going to have to stay quiet Liebling.” His hand closed around your throat as he began thrusting his cock in and out of you. Already setting a quick, non-wavering pace. He tried to hush you again but now, his hand moved from your throat to straight over your mouth. You desperately wanted him to know how good he felt. You wanted to show the appreciation to what he was making you feel.

“Why?” You mumbled against his large, imposing palm.

“Because you’ll make me cum before I can teach you a lesson.” He growled into your ear while he pulled out, gripped your skin and flipped you over so you could shove your face into a pillow and bite it instead of making any more noise.

“Good girl.”   

[seasonsbloom]

ocean in a seashell . ( rooster )

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; bradley has lived with his father’s ghost for long enough to know he’ll never make the same mistakes he did. and then he meets you.

wc ; 10.5k i'm sorry

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; bradley bradshaw's sad, sad life; angst, literally SO much angst; mentions of canon past character death; near-death experience; alcohol abuse; explicit language; explicit sexual content (breeding kink, cumplay, p in v, dirty talk, fingering, idk?)

note: ... yeah i don't fucking know either goodbye. stole the title from "sidelines" by phoebe bridgers aka god.

sol. sunderlust... none of this would be possible without you, thank you forever.

Bradley doesn’t remember much about his father.

These days, he recalls him only in fractions: Hawaiian shirts, mustache, hair that stood up spikey like grass covered in the first tentative November frost. He had big hands, Bradley remembers that, and he used to swing him up on his shoulders and let him ride around living rooms in Army commissioned houses they never stayed in longer than a few months. He always smelled of engine oil, and he played pianos like he didn’t even know the meaning of the word embarrassment.

Bradley based his whole life on the fading glimpses of that man he carries locked in the chambers of his heart. The older he gets, the more gaps he finds.

Suddenly he’s taller than Goose ever was, older, ranked higher. He wants to say, wait, hold on, go back. Wants to rewind to a time when he felt closer to his father, when he could remember what his voice sounded like, what it felt like when he tucked him into bed. When he thought if he just sat by the front door long enough, his father would inevitably walk through it again, hoist him into the air, and press tickling kisses to his cheeks.

Sometimes, Bradley wishes he could go back to when he thought bad things happened only in movies. When he had a father and a mother and an uncle and the bone-deep, unconscious conviction that things would always stay this way.

He can’t remember the day Goose died. Can’t remember Mav coming to the house, can’t remember the dog tags pressed into his mother’s hands. Strange how the most significant day of his little life remains in his memory as just another day - morning cartoons and PB&J sandwiches and his mom reading him a bedtime story. Part of Bradley thinks it’s unfair, his whole world crashing down and him not even remembering it. Like he’s arriving late for a movie and can’t make sense of the plot.

Not once did he see his mother cry over his father. He’s sure she must have shed tears, remembers now the empty tissue boxes and the eyes rimmed in red, understands now what he was too young to see then. But Carol carried her grief like a secret. She locked it behind the mahogany of her bedroom door, she hid it behind the veneer of her smile.

Bradley is nineteen, standing at his mother’s open grave, when he decides he’s never going to do to someone what Goose did to her. What he did to him.

For a while, he wants nothing to do with the memory of that man. Wraps himself in his mother, toys with the idea of taking her maiden name. Goes to college and gets drunk, gets high, gets himself into trouble. Thinks sometimes, in his very darkest moments, that maybe the best thing he could do for the world is to stop existing.

One night lands him at the police station. And it’s not like he got arrested or anything, they just take him in to sober up and tell him to call somebody to come get him. Mav is in town, thank God, and he comes in wearing his old aviator jacket and a wistful expression. Bradley’s call probably pulled him out of some bar or some girl or both.

Mav doesn’t say much, just drives him back to his college dorm and pulls over to the curb, doesn’t even turn off the car. They sit there in silence, with the blinker going and the engine purring.

Finally, Mav says, “Sometimes, you remind me so much of your father, it scares me.”

Bradley doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Sits there for a little longer and watches as frat bros and law students and cheerleaders cross the street on their way to hook-ups, to parties, to midnight fast food runs. Envies them just for a moment. Then, without saying goodbye, gets out of the car, goes to his room, and buries himself beneath the weight of his blankets.

So it’s like Bradley always suspected. It really is a futile thing, trying to escape the memory of his father. His ghost lives inside Bradley’s chest. Rattles against his bones.

And he loves him, even if he doesn’t remember him. Thinks that love is some intrinsic, primordial thing. Something that was there before he was born and will be there after he dies. Something he can’t fight. Unstoppable like the tide.

So he embraces it instead. Tries growing a mustache he’ll only be able to pull off much later in life, gets those old Hawaiian shirts out of storage. Decides to give into the underlying current of longing he’s felt every time he tipped his head back and looked at the sky.

Accepting that he loves his father is much easier than he thought it would be. Much easier than hating him.

It’s good for a while because it feels like he has a purpose, a goal. For so long, Bradley has been drifting at sea, unmoored, unbound, with no sense of direction. Now he’s swimming toward something, broad strokes, every move deliberate.

Then Mav pulls his papers.

The worst part of it all, worse than the betrayal, worse than the anger, is the confusion. He thought Mav would understand. Mav of all people. 

(It’s his mother, setting a casserole on the table, smiling at Bradley and saying Pete over here, he’s the craziest pilot the Navy’s ever seen. It’s his sixth Christmas, the second one without his dad, and Mav gives him a model of a plane they’ll build together. It’s Mav staring at him with eyes gleaming with moisture the time he stole the Navy hat from his uncle’s head. It’s Mav in every memory of his life, laced so tightly to him he thought they were inseparable, woven together. Now the seams are coming apart.)

Mav, who keeps flying, who seems only to be a real, complete person for those few, short, fleeting moments just after he steps off a plane. Who’s never happy unless he’s going break-neck speed miles and miles above the ground, jumping off death’s shovel, laughing, flipping the bird, and saying look, I can fly!

If Maverick doesn’t understand why Bradley wants to fly, why he needs to fly, then who ever could?

Mav wants to explain it, calls him, shows up at his apartment. Bradley declines the calls, turns off all the lights, and sits on his couch in perfect silence, pretending he isn’t in.

He doesn’t want to hear explanations, doesn’t want to listen to excuses. He wants to fly.

Back when his mother was alive, she wouldn’t even let him get on an airplane. His whole childhood, they only left their state once to go to a funeral of some distant aunt or cousin or uncle, Bradley can’t remember, and his mother drove the whole ten hours there and back. It didn’t even register as anything weird to him - it was all juice boxes and gas station ice cream and goldies on the radio. It was his mom’s laughter and her smile and her fingers carding strands of hair warmed by the sun out of his eyes.

So Bradley remembers his mother every time he gets into a car. But his dad? Him, he can only get above the clouds.

He doesn’t give up. He finishes college, works odd jobs for some money, drifts further and further from the orbit he used to inhabit. And then he applies to the academy again, and then he goes to Top Gun, and he graduates top of his class and wonders what it would feel like if there were somebody to be proud of him. If somebody were congratulating him, taking him out for a celebratory dinner, or just somebody to hug him. What it would feel like if he weren’t so alone.

It’s what he dreams about sometimes, in the very darkest pockets of the night. A house with a swing set and a big, smiling, dumb dog and a pretty wife and a whole gaggle of children running through the garden. Bradley would teach them how to throw a football, and he’d carry them to bed at night, and his wife would smile at him, and there would always be food in the fridge and brownies on the table, and every room would be filled with love, and there would be no ghosts to haunt him.

It’s a dangerous fantasy. It’s a trap door, a slippery slope, it’s a snare, it’s a cliff’s edge. If he stays in it too long, he’ll be lost.

His mother always used to say he was a functional dreamer. He had his head stuck in the clouds, sure, but he knew exactly when to pull it out of there too. Maybe that’s why he’s such a good pilot.

So Bradley still is a functional dreamer. He knows that this is something he can never have, can never allow himself to have. He knows the pain of it too well, too intimately, still feels it every time he catches sight of his reflection in a mirror, the golden streaks of sun in his hair, the mustache, the split second of pure, blank horror, of oh god I look like him, I look so much like him, and feels it slice right through him like a knife through butter. He’s been carrying his father’s ghost for so long, sometimes it feels like his spine will crack under the weight.

Maybe people that live life like he does, like Mav does, like his father did - up in the sky, heads in the clouds - aren’t meant to have anything on the ground. Inevitably, they always end up leaving it.

He decided the day of his mother’s funeral, before the long procession of I’m sorrys and If you need anythings, before he let real estate agents into a house overflowing with cards and flowers - flowers in every room, flowers blooming and wilting and dying like a garden watered by his grief, like a garden watered by his ghosts - that he would never have a family. Not a wife to mourn him, not a child to miss him.

So there’ll be nobody to carry the burden of him.

And then he meets you.

It’s not momentous - it’s easy. Natural. Quicker than he thought possible. It’s stolen glances across a room and a smile that brands him like a mark, that cuts right through to the bone. A smile that settles in his heart. A smile that’ll never leave again.

In the beginning, he tries to fight it. Tells himself not to engage, not to get involved, to stay out of the mess he knows he’ll make here inevitably. To shield him, but to shield you too, to protect you from whatever hurt he’s going to inflict sooner or later.

But then it goes like this:

“Are you never going to ask me out, Bradshaw?” you ask him, smiling as you pluck his Ray Bans from him, as you place them on your own nose, and blink at him from over the rims.

The sun is casting you in gold. Bradley wants to catch the moment in a mason jar and put it on his bedside table. Let the glow illuminate his nights.

“I don’t think….” He trails off, wonders why it’s so easy for him to talk to you, why he can’t stop spilling truths like leaking water taps. “I don’t think I’ll be good for you.”

You don’t miss a beat. One eyebrow raising, you say, “And don’t you think that should be my decision?”

That’s when he knows that for him, you will always be it. That it’ll never be this way again with someone else. It’s not even a question. It’s just the truth.

When he’s with you, for the first time since he sat shotgun in a car with his mother, head nodding along to Elvis on the radio, Bradley feels like he belongs somewhere. Like he’s reached a shore, maybe. Like he can breathe.

For the first time, it feels like he knows peace, even with his feet on the ground.

His mother would have loved you.

You have a long conversation about it. About how he knows you want it - the diapers and the first days of school and the family Christmases. The pitter-patter of children’s feet, the cribs, the tiny fingers curling around your thumb. He knows you’ve dreamed of it all your life. And Bradley also knows, as much as it hurts, as much as it aches, that he can never give it to you.

He needs to be honest. He needs to put all the cards on the table so you know your options, see the truth about him. So you can walk away before you get any deeper into this.

Part of him is sure you will. Thinks it might be better, the safest option for both of you. Hopes you will, fears you will.

It doesn’t matter that he loves you. It doesn’t matter that he only feels at peace when he’s with you. It doesn’t matter that for the first time since he was four years old, the ghosts have gone quiet.

What matters is that he wants you to be happy. What matters is that if that happiness lies somewhere else, with someone else, with someone who’ll give you everything you dream of, give you a life, give you a child… Bradley will let you go. It’ll be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he will.

Only you don’t leave.

You think about it for a very, very long time. Sit at his kitchen table with your hands folded on the tablecloth like you’re praying, with your head turned down, without looking at him, and then finally you say, “Alright. Fine with me.”

And Bradley’s protesting, pushing, saying, “Honey, you want this, I know you do, you want a family, you….”

“I want you more,” you say, and that’s that.

There’s no lie to it. It’s the truth, naked and beautiful and awful.

And Bradley - selfish as he is - accepts it. Because he doesn’t want to lose you. Because as much as he tries to convince himself of the opposite, deep down, he knows he’s not a good man. Just like his father wasn’t. They’re both just men willing to leave the people they love behind. Brave enough to fight for the “greater good”, but never brave enough to stay.

Regardless of it all, it’s the happiest Bradley has been in years. With you, he doesn’t feel like something is missing from him. He actually feels whole.

Your job as a freelancer allows you to travel with him, and he’s unspeakably grateful for it. He tries to show you, tries to be good about bringing flowers and cooking dinner, thinks if he can make you even a fraction as happy as you make him, he’ll have succeeded. When he gets deployed, he spends days memorizing your face, the shape of your throat where your pulse point jumps, the pattern of your heartbeat, the feeling of you beneath his arm.

And sometimes, when you’re asleep, Bradley puts his hand on your stomach and imagines a bump there, imagines a baby growing beneath it, and that’s when the ache gets so strong he thinks he can’t breathe.

That’s when he hates himself for not being something else: a doctor, an accountant, a real estate agent. Anything other than what he is. Could he have it then, this thing you both want so much? Could he let himself have it?

But eventually, when the fantasies fade, he always circles back to the truth: Bradley isn’t a doctor or an accountant or a real estate agent. He’s a pilot. Always has been, always will be.

He’s just too much like his father. That’s the whole point.

When he gets called back to Top Gun, three years after he met you, something shifts. He doesn’t know to explain it, but from the very first moment he sets foot on North Island again, something about it tastes like the beginning of an end. At night, he can’t settle, roams through the little house you rent off base like a sleepwalker. Checks in on you like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. Can’t concentrate up in the air, can’t shut his brain off.

It’s like his father’s ghost travels with him in his suitcases, tucked between his neatly folded shirts, climbs out when no one’s looking. No matter where he goes, that ghost goes too. He can’t shake him.

You love California. You like the sunshine and the ocean. Like the Hard Deck and Penny and Phoenix. Turn your face into the warmth like a sunflower, and then you bloom, go brighter and brighter as Bradley goes the opposite direction. As something in him dims.

“Is it because of Mav?” you ask him softly, in the quiet of your bedroom. You’re carding hair from his forehead, fingers gentle, voice gentler.

Bradley can’t look at you. Shame coils low in his stomach.

“Yes,” he says, even if it feels like a lie in his mouth.

You sigh, no annoyance, only affection. Your head is heavy on his shoulder as you press the shape of a yawn into his skin.

“I know he hurt you, Bradley,” you whisper. “It’s okay to be hurt. But I think you need to talk to him.”

He nods into the darkness. You’re right. You’re always right.

“I know,” he agrees, even though he knows he won’t.

When you’re asleep, Bradley slips out of bed. Pats into the living room and sits on the floor, back leaning against the couch. Pulls his knees up to his chest, closes his eyes, and then he dreams.

He dreams he’s four riding on his father’s shoulders through the living room. He dreams he’s ten, in a car with his mother, turning up the radio. He dreams he’s twenty, and he lets Mav explain. He dreams he’s thirty-five, and he marries you. He dreams he’s thirty-six and holding his baby. He dreams it’s a little girl with your smile and his eyes, and he loves her more than he thought he was capable of, so much it almost breaks him apart, so much it puts him back together. So much it’s worth it all.

Bradley’s earliest memory is of the giant, bone-white seashell on his grandmother’s mantlepiece. He remembers how heavy it was, remembers how cold it felt against the side of his face when he pressed it to his ear. He remembers hearing the distant, muffled hum of the waves, the song of the sea, remembers imagining what it might look like. 

It’s no comparison to the real thing, years and years and years later, he knows this, but it’s something. It’s better than nothing.

It’s all he can allow himself—an ocean in a seashell.

The mission is a disaster, even if it is successful. Later, Bradley won’t remember what he was thinking up in the air, when he hit the target, when Mav went down, when he decided to go after him. He won’t even be able to tell if that is because he’s in shock or because he really wasn’t thinking anything. Maybe for the first time in his life.

If he had been thinking, Bradley likes to believe he would have kept his plane on course. Would have flown back to the carrier and then back to you, home, home, home. Wouldn’t have gone back for a man he still hasn’t spoken to, not properly, someone he loved once and now barely knows.

But all the ghosts of the people he’s loved and lost crowd up on him in that cockpit - his father and his mother and even Admiral Kazansky and their sad, sad eyes. There’s no room for Mav to be up there, too, he thinks.

So at first, you don’t cross his mind at all. He just follows his instincts like he’s never done before, could never bring himself to do. So much of Bradley’s life has been about dissecting just those urges, dismantling them, disabling them. Making himself into a creature of logic and second-guessing. Now, for the first time, he gives in to the currents and lets himself be rushed away.

And then his plane goes down, and he drifts into the white white white of snow he hasn’t felt in so long - and still, he doesn’t think. But every instinct from the moment of impact on, the moment his feet hit the ground, every instinct centers on you.

Home, he thinks. I need to get home to her.

Up in that F-14, that’s when he realizes. The brink of death is a bleak place. It’s a place of memories, a place of despair. It’s a place of hope.

All he can think of is you. How he’s leaving you with nothing. How he’s going to die here, miles above the ocean, and what will happen then? Who’s going to bring you his dog tags, the way Mav had brought his father’s to Carole all those years ago? Phoenix? Hangman? How are they even going to retrieve them if he goes down in enemy territory? Will anybody even remember the girl in that house, the one he didn’t even marry? And why didn’t he anyway? Why didn’t he put a ring on your finger, buy you a house, get you a dog, give you a baby?

What will remain of him now, in this world after he’s gone?

Nothing, he thinks, and his lungs fill with water, high up in the sky. You made damn sure of that, Bradley.

There will be nobody to haunt. He will disappear, and he will take his mother with him, will take his father with him, will take Mav with him. Nobody to remember him. Nobody to mourn him except you, all alone, carrying the terrible burden of his ghost.

It used to be a relief. Nobody to mourn me after I’m gone. Now it feels like a punishment.

Home, he thinks, remembering the content of your smile and your eyes gleaming in the darkness and your face turning, always turning, toward the sun. Like a child, as he closes his eyes, as he tries to accept the inevitable, he thinks, I want to go home. I just want to go home.

And then that’s what he does—he and Mav. Incredibly, inexplicably, illogically, they go home.

From far away, as he walks up the driveway, the little house with the gardenias you planted blooming pink and red in front of the windows looks like an oasis at first. Then it seems to grow longer, taller, goes from beckoning to daunting. He almost doesn’t make it inside. Almost doesn’t dare to get out his keys, unlock the front door, push through and toe off his shoes. Feels like he’s doing something forbidden, like he’s an unwanted guest in his own home.

You’re in the kitchen, elbows deep in sudsy dishwater, and when he walks through the doorway, when you hear the pat of his socked feet against the tiled floors, you look up at him with an open face full of love, full of relief. It almost bowls him over.

“Bradley,” you whisper, voice soft, and then you’re crossing the room, bubbles and foam and water dripping from your wrists across the tile, and he blinks at the trail you leave for a moment. Then you’re there, arms wrapping around his neck, face pressing against his shoulder, saying his name again and again, like a benediction, like a prayer of thanks.

Automatically, he pulls you against him with both arms crossed over your hips. Inhales deep, lets the familiar scent of you envelop him. Listens to your breath echoing against the dip of his collarbone, to the steady rhythm of your heart.

Your hands leave wet prints against the fabric of his shirt, like something primeval pressed to cave walls, like something that’s been happening for centuries, something that is happening right now, something that will happen again tomorrow and next year and the year after that, and distantly, dumbly, Bradley thinks, Oh. I’m alive. I’m here.

He feels packed in cotton. He feels submerged. He feels not-real, not-present, not-normal. He feels like he’s going to fall apart, and no one will notice.

When you draw back, it takes you only a split second to realize something’s wrong. You frown, the furrow Bradley likes to smooth out with his thumb appearing between your eyebrows, eyes swimming with a concern he doesn’t deserve.

“What happened?”

It’s classified, all of it. There’s so much of his life Bradley isn’t allowed to share with you, even if he wants to. There’s so much he doesn’t want to share but knows he should.

From far away, he hears himself say, “My plane went down.”

He can feel the panic in your body, feels it go through you like a spasm. You try to draw back, but he holds you where you are, afraid he’s going to shatter all across the kitchen floor the moment you’re gone.

It’s not fair, he thinks, how he keeps looking to you to hold him together. It’s just that at the end of the day, you’ve always been so much stronger than him.

“Bradley…” you begin to say, but he can’t hear it. He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear how scared you are every time he leaves, he doesn’t want to hear how it made you feel to know that he almost died because he already knows. He knows.

“I want…” he says into your hair, a fragment of a sentence, a statement that trails off halfway, that goes nowhere. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say.

In some ways, he feels stuck in that F-14. Like time kept moving, but he didn’t, remained static and crystallized like somebody dipped the moment in amber and preserved it on a bookshelf. Nothing makes sense to him. Rationally, he knows he’s standing here in his kitchen with you in his arms, knows he isn’t dead, knows he survived, but it doesn’t feel like it. 

So Bradley tries to remember grounding exercises, focuses on little things, mundane things, things that shouldn’t exist on the verge of death. The bubbles popping in the sink. The specks of dust dancing through the room. The curve of your spine beneath the worn fabric of his Navy shirt.

Suddenly, the thought of you alone in this house is unbearable. Waiting for a man that never comes back. History repeating itself in the worst of ways.

“I want to have a baby,” he says, out of nowhere, out of some madness that took hold of him up in the air, or maybe when he touched the ground, or maybe at some other point he can’t name, can’t even think.

And it’s not a conscious thought. It’s not a decision he makes. It’s just something that spills from him, something that has been there unnoticed all along, words taking shape on his tongue before he can overthink their meaning, but then they’re out, and they drop between you like an anvil, and it’s like a relief, it’s like a breath he’s been holding for years, it’s like a sigh, something inside of him finally unlatching, finally escaping the shackles he put on it himself.

Oh, he thinks. He’s known this about himself, always, but it’s the first time he says it out loud. It’s always been a want, an ache, a yearning, but now it goes from all that to a need, a thrumming inside of him, something that cannot be ignored. Something that demands to be felt instead of thought.

In his arms, you stiffen.

With your palms on his chest, you push him away from you, take a step back, take the warmth and the scent and the anchor with you. Bradley is surprised he doesn’t float right up to the ceiling.

The openness of your face has shuttered now. You look at him with something unreadable crossing your features, something unfamiliar, and say, “What did you just say?”

Bradley swallows around a lump in his throat. “I want to have a baby,” he repeats, his voice smaller now, quieter, but the words more assured.

Because he does. Because it’s true. Because he’s always wanted this and doesn’t know how to explain to you that now he needs it. How now it’s the only thing that makes sense in a world that’s gone off the rails.

Your face falls, something crumbles, and it hits him like a punch to the gut. 

“No,” you say, turning away from him. You step right into the trail of water you left earlier, it soaks into your socks, and then you’re leaving footprints too. Everywhere you go, you leave your mark like a brand. Not one part of Bradley has been left untouched.

Confusion zaps through him, but it’s a muted feeling. Muffled by all the chaos.

“I thought you….” It’s a great effort to form words, like pulling teeth. “You want children. Don’t you want this?”

“Not like…” You pause, rake your fingers through your hair, exasperation crackling from you like sparks from a burned-out socket, and Bradley can’t make sense of it.

You want this, he knows you do. So what’s the problem now? What did he do wrong?

“I don’t….”

“Don’t go there.”

There’s a finality to your voice, and he sees you drawing back from him, sees your shoulders come up, your face turning away, something wilting.

The idea of losing you, of pushing you away now that he’s finally decided to let you in, really let you in, the panic of it finally slices through the haze. Lifts the fog.

Bradley crosses the room and says, “It’s your decision too, honey, of course, it is, but I love you, and I want this, and….”

You whirl on him, and it punches the air out of his lungs. There’s real anger on your face now, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and Bradley’s heart clenches in answer.

“You don’t get to do this,” you say, voice heaving with the barely contained emotion, a ship on a stormy sea, “not after I compromised, not after I spent so long trying to get used to the idea of not having a baby, not after giving that up for you, Bradley. You don’t… don’t get to just come in here and change your mind just because it suits you, because you had some near-death experience and you’re full of adrenaline and… and….”

Bradley frowns, moves to touch you, but you flinch away from him, one arm going up to hug your own ribcage. As if you have to shield yourself from him.

Suddenly, he feels a sob building in his throat. To realize how much he’s hurt you, not just today by springing this on you, but by how selfish he was, again and again. By letting his past stand in the way of your future.

“It’s not that I changed my mind,” he begins, trying to string together something that will make you see the truth of it, make you understand what he means.

You interrupt, “You said you didn’t want kids.”

Bradley pauses. Did he say that? If he did… 

“And it…” You gasp for breath, the tears now streaming freely down your face, and god, it hurts, it hurts worse than thinking he lost Mav, hurts worse than thinking he’d die in that F-14 because all of that he’d been prepared for, had been practicing for his whole life. Losing Maverick, losing himself, all of that had been inevitable. But losing you… Bradley always assumed he was going to be the one to go first. 

“It’s fine,” you go on. “I was fine with it, Bradley, I gave that dream up because… because I wanted you more, and I was okay with it. It was my decision, and I don’t regret it, but for you to just… to just….”

“I do want children,” he says because he doesn’t know what to do except explain it, except make you see the truth of it all. “I’ve always… I’ve always wanted children, honey. I just… after what happened to my dad, after what that did to me, what it did to my mother, I didn’t… I didn’t want to do that to you. I couldn’t do that to you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, eyebrows furrowed, lower lip caught between your teeth.

“You…” You look like you’re trying very hard to understand it. “Are you saying you decided not to have children with me because you thought it would hurt me too much if you died?”

When you say it like that, out loud, logically, through your tears, it sounds so incredibly stupid.

Bradley opens and closes his mouth, once, twice. Finally, he nods.

He expects you to start crying harder, to hit him (all valid reactions, really), but instead, you do the one thing he doesn’t expect: You laugh. It’s a watery sound, barely amused, but it is a laugh.

You bury your face in your hands, then reemerge after a moment, eyes rimmed in red, and say, “God, Bradley, you’re so stupid.”

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say to that. Probably, you’re right. “What?”

“You just…” You exhale a long, shuddering breath. “You keep trying to make decisions without me.”

“... I do?”

“Yeah!” Your voice rises a little, then settles, and you say, “This is my decision as much as it’s yours. If I say I want it, if I say I know the risk and I know the danger, then you don’t get to tell me no. Do you think I’m dumb? Do you think I don’t understand what goes on when you get deployed? Do you think I don’t know that you’re risking your life all the time?”

“No, I… I know you know that.”

You shrug, and it’s a gesture of such helplessness that Bradley’s knees almost buckle.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I don’t know if… if one day there’s going to be a mission you don’t come back from. I don’t know that, Bradley. I can’t know that. But until then… can’t you just let us be happy?”

Bradley’s shaking. Head to toe, tremors that run through him like the tides. Unstoppable. Unrelenting.

“I…” And he knows he’s the one who brought it up, but suddenly all the doubts come crashing down. Suddenly the ghosts crowd around him. “What if I die? What if I leave you? What if we have a baby and I’m not… there?”

“Oh, Bradley…” Something on your face melts. You step closer, put a hand on his cheek, fingertips still pruned from the water, and say, so gently it breaks something open inside of him, “Bradley. You’re not your father.”

And Bradley can’t help it - he cries. It’s an ugly sort of crying, the sort that leaves you with a headache and snot dripping down your face and eyes that hurt. The one you feel in the morning. But it’s a relief too. A release. Rain after years and years of drought.

For so long, Bradley was trying to let go of a world that didn’t want him to leave. He’s been preparing for an early exit since he entered, has been so caught up in dreaming he forgot to live. So caught up in thinking he forgot to do. He thought he would be content to go out of this world and leave nothing behind, to disappear without a trace, without a word, without a ghost.

But now he sees it clearly. Now he understands.

Bradley doesn’t want to stop existing. He wants to cling to this world like someone clinging to the edge of a cliff, like a leech, like a cancer. He wants to haunt someone.

Only there’s something else, too. 

A week before his mother died, when she had gone all quiet, when she had lost the vibrancy she used to carry around like a glow, when she had slept longer and spoke less and Bradley had known, somewhere deep inside of him, that things were ending, that they were truly ending, he’d gathered all his courage and asked a question he’d been rehearsing for weeks, months, years.

“Do you regret it?”

Do you regret loving my father now, knowing all that would come after? Knowing the landslide it really was?

And Carol had just smiled, something of that old light returning for a moment, a tenderness so big it felt like violence, and she’d said, “I could never regret him. Not even the heartbreak or the grief or the pain. After all, he gave me you, didn’t he?”

Maybe, he thinks, it’s time to let the past be in the past. Maybe it’s time to let himself have a future.

Maybe it’s time to let go of the ghost.

And you just hold him as he cries like he hasn’t since he locked himself in a bathroom stall after his mother’s funeral, cries until it feels like he’s going to throw up, cries until the gnashing teeth of grief of pain of hurt of anger finally leave him be.

After half an eternity, you pull away, warm hands cupping his face, tugging him gently away from the crook of your neck, so he has to look at you, can’t look anywhere but at you, and then you say, “Bradley, what happened to your father was a horrible, terrible accident. But he loved you. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods. His father, the hazy shape of him, the ghost he’s carried for so long - frosted tips and Hawaiian shirts and the smell of motor oil. Large hands and a mustache and rides around living rooms. So much of him is shadowed, fractioned, incomplete, but not this. This he knows. When he thinks of his father, there’s nothing now but the hazy, easy warmth of love. 

“Do you really think,” you say softly, “that they made a mistake when they had you? Your parents? Do you really think they shouldn’t have done it?”

Bradley has thought about his life in boxes. Big cardboard ones, the kind you get when you move apartments. He tucks the good parts away beneath his bed, stows them, hoards them like a secret. Like his mother kept her grief. But all the bad parts - the pain and the sadness and the sorrow - those he lets pile up everywhere, in hallways, in living rooms, on kitchen tables. He stumbles over them on his way to the bathroom. He stubs his toe halfway to the closet.

He never looks at those good parts, afraid they’ll become tainted somehow if he thinks about them for too long, afraid they’ll lose their appeal or their strength. But there’s so much good there too.

Goose loved him, he knows this without a doubt. Carole loved him. Mav loves him, Phoenix loves him, you love him… At the end of it all, even despite all the terrible things that have happened to him, even with the ghosts that have haunted him for so long, Bradley has been loved, and he has lived, and he has been happy.

Shouldn’t that be worth something, too?

“No,” he says, voice soft, “no, I’m glad they had me.”

His life has been a long, long road. Difficult to walk sometimes, full of potholes, some as big as canyons. But there’s so much happiness there, too - car rides with his mother, Mav telling him stories about his father, the moment when the wheels lift off the tarmac at take-off. This long, terrible, winding road that led him here. That led him to you.

You brush your fingertips across his cheekbone, and Bradley capsizes.

“I love you,” he says, and it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. It’s the truest thing he’s ever known. “I want… I want to have a life with you.”

“You do,” you answer. “You have one.”

Bradley’s tears have dried so the sound he makes isn’t really a sob, but it’s damn close to one. 

“Do you…” He clears his throat. “You love me, too?”

It’s a dumb question, unnecessary because he already knows the answer. But he needs to hear you say it anyway.

And when you smile, your whole face lights up. It echoes somewhere inside Bradley, somewhere at his core, goes through him like a current.

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you say, and there’s only a little bit of amusement in your voice, “you’re the love of my life.”

His heart jumps like a jackknife in his chest.

Before he recognizes that he’s made the conscious decision to do so, he’s bridged the space between you and has pulled you into a searing, soaring, slow kiss. He fumbles it a little, teeth knocking against yours, but you just laugh into it, going up on your tiptoes, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him like you want to meld yourself to his bones. Bradley feels like somebody’s poured liquid sunlight into his chest.

Somewhere it goes heated, goes desperate, goes near frantic, all the adrenaline, all the fear, everything pouring from him in a shower of want. Somehow he’s got you pressed up against the counter, tongue tangled with yours, fingers in your hair, fingers on your back, fingers pulling up the edge of the shirt you’ve stolen from him to find the warm, soft skin beneath.

Breathless, heart stuttering, Bradley pulls away, looks at your lips swollen from the tug of his teeth, your eyes with the heavy lids, the hair mussed by his fingers, and he needs to hear it. Needs to know you want this as much as he does. The ache in him twists like a knife between the ribs.

“Tell me,” he whispers, afraid the moment will shatter if he makes a wrong move, speaks too loudly. It’s so fragile - he wants to protect it so fiercely. Presses the tips of his fingers into the place where your pulse hammers away. “Tell me you want to have a baby with me.”

“I want…” And you sigh, a sound like a spring day, a sound like a rushing mountain stream. “I want it.”

He surges forward, lips against yours again, and you’re so alive beneath him, heart racing, breath heaving, fingers grappling along his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, and Bradley wants to devour you. Wants to sink his teeth into all this life and never let it go again. He wants to exist, right here, in this moment with you forever.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your neck, lets his mouth move over the column of your throat, down to the sharp points of your collarbones beneath the soft skin. Sinks to his knees on the kitchen tiles like he’s kneeling at an altar to pray.

“Bradley,” you whisper, fingers going to tangle in his hair, to smooth along the sides of his face, and the softness in your voice cracks something in him. He swears he could cry again.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing as he nuzzles his nose against the sloping curve of your upper thigh, as his fingers tighten on your hips. He just wants to be close to you. And you’re so soft, so warm, you smell like home, and it tears through him, blazes everything in its wake, to realize just how close he came to losing it all.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he whispers, babbles, barely coherent, pressing his face against the fabric of your panties, inhaling your scent, opening his mouth to push his tongue where he knows your clit is. “Gonna make you so happy, baby, I promise, it’s all I want. I’m never letting you go again, I’m never….”

Above him, you whimper, hips knocking forward, arching into the movement of his tongue for a moment, and he wonders if you’re wet, thinks about the hot, tight vice of your cunt, and groans against you. His cock jumps.

Then you’re tugging him away from you by the hair, and Bradley goes reluctantly, mouth still open, wishing he could stay where he was forever. Drowning in you. 

You’re looking down at him with eyes blown wide.

“Bradley,” you say, and there’s something unsteady to your voice. “Take me to bed.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s a tumble all the way to your bedroom - he kicks off his shoes on the way, you lose your shirt, and he’s somehow, miraculously, gotten down to his boxers by the time he drags you backward with him onto the mattress.

“I love you,” he says as he drags you on top of him, your legs opening around his hips like the petals of a flower. The mattress dips where your knees press against the springs, your weight grounds him. “I love you, you’re so perfect, you’re….”

He has no idea what he’s saying. His brain checked out a while ago, and it’s all just feelings now, just emotions coursing through him, and every once in a while, one will plunge its head through the surface, and then he’ll tell you something nonsensical, something dumb, something important, something he needs you to know, something…

You lean down to kiss him, to shut him up, his brain buzzes, your breasts press to his bare chest, and he’s so hard in his boxers it hurts.

“I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips, smile into the kiss. The curve of it burns against Bradley’s face.

He sits up, grasps you by the thighs to drag you closer, drag your core across his cock, and you both moan against each other. Your fingernails scrape over the back of his neck, where his hair is buzzed so short he knows it feels like prickles, and he shudders, sighs, lets his tongue run across your teeth.

For a while, you just stay like that, rutting against each other like fucking teenagers, tongues lazy, fingers eager, mouths hungry. Even through your panties, he can feel your wetness, wonders if it’s going to leave stains on his underwear, across his thighs. Bradley thinks he’s going to die, but this time it’s nothing like it was up in the F-14.

It’s difficult in your position, awkward, but he gets a finger first on your clit, and then, when he finds you wet and swollen and open, he slides it right inside you. Watches your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, as your mouth falls open on a muffled gasp, as your head tips backward.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He fucks his finger in and out slowly, adds a second to stretch you, and then he’s saying, “Baby, honey, you’re so tight, you’re so fucking wet, god I….”

You whimper, and then you’re pulling off him, shimmying out of your panties, leaning down to tug his boxers off.

“Gotta have…” Your throat moves when you swallow as you clamber back into his lap. “Want you inside me, please, Bradley. I’m ready.”

He groans, something in his stomach yanking tight, and he’s pretty sure he’s leaking precum steadily by now.

There’s no time to tease, no need for it either, not when you’re both aching for it, not after what you’ve just gone through. The hot slide of him inside you, feeling you all around him, Bradley thinks that might be the only thing that could make him realize he’s actually back here, that it isn’t all just a dream, that he didn’t actually go down in that plane and has been stuck in some kind of cruel limbo for the past few days.

But there’s the other thing too. The need he can’t explain. The selfish, horrible, depraved thing he can share with nobody but you. That nobody but you would ever understand.

Slowly, tentatively, he places his palm on your stomach, fingers splaying wide, and leaves it there. He’s too scared to look at you, too scared of what you’ll think of him, too scared of what you’ll do once you find out how deep his desire runs, how desperately he wants this. Will you hate him? Will you be disgusted? Will you draw back, pull away, leave him alone with all his depravity and all his fears and all his sorrow? 

“I need… I want…” He can’t even finish the sentence, brain too foggy. Too scared to meet your eyes, Bradley just blinks at the sight in front of him, his big hand on your skin, and his heart seizes, his insides clench, and he can’t breathe, can’t, he’s going to…

Slowly, your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yes,” you breathe above him.

It’s a visceral thing. The words burn through him, wrap around him, curl into him. He surges forward to kiss you, desperate, a choked sound escaping him, and licks into your mouth. Around his wrist, your fingers tighten.

He pushes you back into the sheets, crawls over you and spreads your legs, slides between them where he belongs. When his gaze falls to your face, there’s so much trust there, so much love, and it cleaves him in two, just how much he loves you, just how much he needs you. He doesn’t have the words to express it, can only hope you understand what he means when he plunges into you without preamble, when he whispers your name against the shell of your ear, when he curves around you like he wants to shield you from everything bad in the world.

You moan, fingers coming up to grasp his arm where he’s balancing his weight on the elbows. Your mouth tips open, your eyes not straying from his for a second as he goes slow, as he goes deep, as he goes home. There’s an answer in that too.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice choked as he bottoms out, as he holds himself perfectly still. “So tight and beautiful, and you’re all mine, and I’m yours and….”

“Bradley,” you stop him. Wrap your legs around his hips and pull him in. “It’s okay. You can move now.”

So he does.

It’s frantic from the first moment. It’s all the tension that’s been building up for years and years inside of him, all his love and all his longing finally laid open, and he can’t hold back anymore, not when he feels like he’s going to burst out of his own skin at any moment now.

The wet squeeze of your walls around his cock has his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips pushing forward at an unsteady pace, as he leans down to kiss you again, as you open your mouth for him easily, as he nips at your lower lip.

And it’s so dumb - he’s inside of you, curled around you, his tongue tangled with your own, but Bradley wants you closer, still. Needs to know that you’re there with him, that he’s here with you, that he came home and he is letting himself have this, you’re letting him have it, and he loves you, he loves you, he…

Bradley takes his weight off his elbows, gets his arms around you, plasters himself to you, chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth finding the side of your neck, your collarbones. Like this, with his arms around your shoulders, it feels almost like he’s pulling you down to him with every thrust, like he slides just half an inch deeper into you.

You try to muffle a moan into his hair, but Bradley pulls your face away, keeps his pace as he says, “Wanna hear you. Let me hear you, baby, tell me how much you like it. You love it, don’t you? Love my cock, yeah? Love it when I fuck you?”

Maybe it’s pathetic, but Bradley needs to hear it. Needs to know you’re as desperate for him as he is for you. Needs to know you want it just as much.

On a thrust in, your walls flutter around him, and you whine, back arching a little, head sliding across the pillow as you nod.

“Yes,” you gasp, “I love it, Bradley, I love your cock. Thought about it while you were gone all the time, every night, I….”

Bradley groans, shudders, suddenly so close to the brink he needs to squeeze his eyes shut against the image of you - the glossy eyes, the swollen lips, the absolute ruin he’s reduced you to.

“Can’t say shit like that, baby,” he whispers, leaning to press tender kisses to the column of your throat. “Not when you’re this fucking wet, not when you’re making these sounds… you’re gonna make me cum.”

You giggle, then moan, head lolling to the side to give him better access. 

“Good,” you say, legs hiking higher up on his hips, his cock sliding deeper, “that’s the plan, isn’t it?”

If there were any air left in his lungs, Bradley would laugh with you. As it stands, he just ups the ante, going a little harder, watching as your eyelashes flutter, feeling your fingers spasm against the skin of his back.

It’s so hot in the room, both of you sticking to each other with sweat, and maybe that, too, should be disgusting, but Bradley doesn’t care. When he leans down to lick a long, wet stripe along the edge of your jaw, he tastes salt on his tongue.

“I’m gonna….” When he glances down at you, at the eyes wide with that much trust, as he realizes you would let him do just about anything to you, that you’ve both opened yourself to each other completely now, no barriers and no ghosts standing between you, it’s like a dam breaking. He moans, so loud it echoes through the room, leans to plunge his tongue into your mouth, desperate, and then he’s saying into it, “God, I’m gonna fuck you so full, honey, gonna fuck you until it takes, yeah? Gonna keep you right here and fill you up, again and again, gonna make sure to get a baby in you, fuck, you’d be so fucking pretty, honey, so pretty all full of me, I know it, I can….”

And you sob. Full-on. Back arching off the bed, legs sliding off his hips, spreading so wide it must hurt.

“Bradley,” you say, fingernails breaking skin, forehead pressing against his throat to hide your face. “Bradley, fuck, I… the pill….”

He’s shaking his head, cutting you off with his mouth on yours. Conveying what he can’t speak, what he’s too far gone to formulate, here where logic has become a distant, remote concept, here between your legs. Don’t say it. Let me live in this fantasy. Let me dream a little longer.

It’s the thought of it all - a bump beneath your dresses, a baby in your arms, tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb, it’s about the long, long stretch of life ahead of the two of you. It’s about a house filled with love and free of ghosts. It’s about the first glimpse of the ocean after listening to its roar in seashells all his life. It’s about giving himself over to you completely, after years of only dreaming of it.

Do you know? he wonders. Do you know that you’re holding his whole life in your hands?

“I love you,” he mumbles, repeats it as he sinks into you again and again, as he buries himself in you, as he holds onto you like he’ll be back in the cold, cold, cold of all that snow the moment he lets go, like he’ll go back to the cockpit with the ghosts like jailors around him, like he’ll float right off the face off the earth. You have always been his anchor. “I’m gonna give you a baby, honey, I promise, gonna cum inside of you, you want that, right? You want me to come right here in this pretty pussy, fill you up all nice and wet, and….”

Your mouth moves against his clavicle, the feel of it spreading like wildfire through him, and you’re saying, “Yes, yes, Bradley, give it to me, please, I wanna feel it, want you to come inside me, please, please, I need it, I….”

A yell punches from him as he thrusts inside one last time, buries himself to the hilt in your warmth, and then he’s panting, his ears are ringing, his veins are buzzing as he cums, as he paints you with his release. He can’t do anything except hold onto you, bury his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, jerking his hips forward erratically, little sounds escaping him. It’s never felt like this before - like dying and coming back alive. The release of it is so big he feels shattered under its weight. 

And you’re saying something to him, whispering words sticky with honey into his ear, pouring them right into his heart, and he can barely hear you over the hammering of his own heart, but it doesn’t matter. You hold him as he trembles, as he shakes, as he tries to collect himself, to control his breathing, hold him and stroke lazy, soft circles up and down his back, trace patterns against his spine, leave soft kisses on any inch of skin you can reach, trapped beneath his weight as you are.

Finally, after an eternity, Bradley pulls away an inch or two, careful not to let his cock slip out. There’s a little embarrassment spreading through his stomach now because he can’t believe he came that fast, can’t believe he didn’t even make sure to take you over the edge with him.

But you barely seem to think about your own lack of an orgasm.

“Are you okay?” you ask, voice gentle, face full of concern.

Bradley’s heart clenches. Maybe, he thinks, his ribcage is going to crack open. It seems impossible for one person to hold so much love inside.

“Are…” He clears his throat, suddenly unsure. “Are you?”

You nod immediately, smile, and the relief floods him. Then you shift, gasp, muscles fluttering around his softening cock.

“Well… I…”

He doesn’t let you finish, shakes his head, says, “You did so good for me, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s already looking at the place where you’re still connected, where his cum is beginning to drip from you in silvery trails. The sight of it is enough to make something like madness descend again, something like that earlier haze, the frenzy of the heat.

Bradley pulls out, sighs at the feeling, and your mouth opens as if in protest, but before you can form any words, he’s replaced his cock with two fingers.

You whimper, eyes closing, a muscle in your stomach jumping.

“I got you,” he says, keeps his eyes on the mess of your swollen cunt, the wet spot soaking into the mattress just beneath, the evidence of his pleasure, smooths his free hand over your chest to settle you. “Relax, honey. I got you.”

Your answer is a moan of his name, fingers twisting into the sheets. He can feel your walls bearing down on the motion of his fingers and knows you’re close, desperately, frantically, torturously close to the brink.

So he speeds up the movement of his digits, swipes his thumb through the sopping wetness, and then across your clit as he fucks his cum back into you. Not letting a single drop go to waste.

“Bradley,” you sob, mouth opening, fingers grappling for something.

Knowing what you need, knowing without you asking for it, he catches your hand with his own and interlaces your fingers. Then he leans down, leans over you, leans in. Finds the seam of your mouth with his own. It’s less of a kiss than both of you panting against each other, finding the same rhythm.

“You can let go now,” he whispers into you. “I’m here. I’ve got you, honey. My perfect girl.”

You come with his name on your lips, cunt clenching around his fingers, arching off the bed and into him, and it’s like a prayer. It’s like a song. 

It takes you a while to come down, and he coaxes you through it, brushes kisses against your lips and your jaw and your ear. Hopes he can ground you the same way you ground him.

Finally, softly, voice faint and fragile, you say, “That was… intense.”

Bradley hums in agreement, and then a laugh rips from him. Because it’s all so ridiculous and so monumental, and he doesn’t know where to go with all these emotions.

“I… yeah. It really was.” He pauses, feels shame curling through him. “I’m sorry I sprung that on you.”

You shake your head, lift one hand to run a finger across his mustache the way you like to do sometimes. 

“It’s okay,” you say, and he knows you mean it. “You must have carried that for a long time.”

It chokes him up, the way you know him so well. Better than anybody else.

“Yeah,” he agrees, drops his head into the crook of your neck. “It… I want you to know that I really want this. It’s not… it’s not adrenaline, and it’s not just almost dying, it’s… It’s you. I want this with you. Only with you.”

He can feel the curve of your smile against his temple, can hear it in your voice.

“I want it with you too, Bradley. Only with you.”

Bradley’s so afraid he’s going to start crying again that he springs into action instead. Reaches around you for a pillow to push beneath your hips, angle your lower body upwards.

“What are you doing?” you ask, laughing a little.

“I’m trying to keep my cum in you. Maybe we’re like super extra lucky, and it works out on the first try.”

Now you’re laughing in earnest, and he gets the impression it might be at his expanse.

“Still on the pill, Bradley,” you remind him, eyes luminous with your happiness.

Feeling a little sheepish, a little embarrassed, a little elated, he shrugs helplessly.

“Can’t hurt,” he says. Then adds, “Besides… I don’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

Then you’re laughing together, breathless, loud laughter, the bending-at-the-waist kind. The belly-hurting kind. The kind that doesn’t come often.

And it’s good. It’s beautiful. It’s the kind of peace he’s never known before but has wanted always, always, always.

It’s so much better than anything he could have ever dreamed. Because it’s real. Because it’s true.

All his life, Bradley thinks, he’s been listening to oceans in seashells. It’s good, fun even, for a while, but it’s no replacement for the real thing. It’s no comparison to standing at the shore of the Pacific Ocean, watching waves crest and crash and throw themselves against the beach again and again, like a devotion that never ends. How big and beautiful and terrible the truth of it is.

And he’d thought the whole world was in that seashell.

Once the laughter has died down, once you’ve fallen back into the kind of comfortable silence that can exist only between people that really, truly love each other, Bradley strokes his thumb against your cheekbone, watches your eyes flutter closed.

“I love you,” he says, “more than I thought I could love someone. Thanks for loving me back.”

It’s bumbling, and it’s inadequate, and it doesn’t convey half of what it should.

But you smile at him, eyes opening, face so tender his heart stutters, and you whisper, “It’s an honor, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

For the first time, Bradley doesn’t think about dying, doesn’t think about leaving. He thinks about living. He thinks about staying.

[krnzysh]

BODY AND SOUL !

SUMMARY after a certain pyro user plagued your mind, you find yourself failing to catch sleep. but what would happen if the same person you were trying oh so desperately to get your mind off of finds you and reveals unspoken feelings?

CHARACTER Diluc Ragnvindr x gn!reader

WARNINGS gender neutral reader, mentions of death, mention of the word 'fuck' once, slight abandonment issues, kissing scene from an inexperienced writer, not proofread! lmk if I missed any

WORD COUNT 1269

[💬] LOVE, AIKA uhm another fic inspired by pride and prejudice from me<3 this is a small fic I made back then and it's been in my drafts for about a month now? so here it is! I hope u enjoy~

The bright sun was only starting to rise, and the cold and gentle breeze from the night before blew dandelions away.

Why were you even awake in the break of dawn? That was the question you asked yourself.

But there was only one answer, you were up all night thinking about him…

Diluc Ragnvindr, the master of dawn winery, the most eligible bachelor, The uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself. The man who has captured your heart just from a single glance.

Meanwhile, you were just an ordinary citizen. You worked at Floral Whisper together with Flora and Donna.

With Donna’s never-ending rants about Diluc — who you have feelings for — you find your heart clenching whenever she does so.

How could someone like him, a noble of high status, fall for you? Nothing less but a mere commoner.

As you shook those thoughts away, you find yourself gazing at the beautiful terrain of Mondstadt. The luscious green grass covers kilometers of land. The streams of water rippled from the smallest breeze of wind. Mondstadt itself truly is a piece of art.

This was supposed to be a night walk to clear your thoughts and help you fall asleep, yet you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you felt as if the clocks stopped and you were in your own world.

You cherished the stillness of the night, no noise whatsoever, unlike how rowdy it can get during daylight.

But the faint rustle of footsteps broke you away from your thoughts, thinking for the worst you freeze in your place.

You close your eyes, hoping that atleast they could give you a quick and easy death.

But to your surprise a touch on your shoulder had you opening your eyes.

Whoever touched you had warm hands, they were so gentle, as if scared they could break you like a porcelain doll.

“Hey, it’s just me…” The person greeted you, the voice soft and very recognizable.

You turn around to see him, the same man that occupied your thoughts, leaving you with sleepless nights.

“Sorry, I thought it was someone.” You apologize for the action earlier, really you couldn’t blame yourself. Although there were patrolling knights, there are still hunters and monsters.

Diluc on the other hand was curious, why were you here? So early in the morning? So to satisfy his curiosity, he asked; “What are you doing here, when the sun hasn’t even risen yet?” 

Taken aback by his question, you kept silent for a while. You just can’t tell him ‘Oh I came here because I couldn’t stop thinking of you’. So you thought of a quick excuse; 

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go on a walk…” It wasn’t really a lie, I mean, you were unable to sleep.

He stared at you suspiciously, as if questioning your answer, he always knew, but he kept quiet, understanding that whatever really was the reason you just didn’t want to share.

That’s why you fell for him, he knew you to the point that you didn’t even need to say anything but he already knew, he could read you so easily as if you were a children’s bedtime story.

Coupled with those behaviors of his, you just couldn’t help but fall for him in general. Everything about him was just so, loveable. You couldn’t help yourself but fall for him more and more as you spent time together.

You got to meet him when he was still a young child together with his brother, kaeya. Your father was Mr. Crepus’ bartender at Angels Share back in their days.

You were with him when he was still smiling so genuinely, with no care of the world.

You were with him when his father died and he broke any contact he had with his brother.

You were with him until he stopped talking to you, pushing you away.

Only a couple of years ago, he finally came to his senses, apologizing for his actions and asking if he could still rebuild that friendship you both once had.

“[Name]!” He called your name, shaking your shoulders, eyes held worry in them. “Are you okay? You spaced out again…” He asked.

“I am, sorry for worrying you.” You give him a soft smile to assure him. But Diluc couldn’t help but sigh, worried for the person he loves so dearly.

He loved you so much, he would fight Celestia and the Abyss for you just to keep you safe. But he was a coward, scared that once you find out his feelings for you, you would both grow apart again.

But he doesn’t know, that you love him, so dearly. You were both in love with each other. It was painfully obvious to the people around you, especially Kaeya.

You both stay in silence for some more time, just gazing at the rising sun. You looked so ethereal in Diluc’s eyes that he couldn’t help but ask himself, ‘Do I really deserve such an angel?’

Although he wanted to stay with you, he still had work to take care of. He turned to leave you alone, sensing you wanted more time gazing at the landscape before you. “[Name], I am going to head out now.”

Before he could even move, soft fingers grabbed the sleeves of his coat, clinging onto them as if begging him to stay. 

You were shocked, your body moved and clung to him.

“[Name]...?” He hesitantly asked, he too was taken aback by your bold moves.

Lowering your head, you looked into his eyes, finally taking that risk.

The nerves got to you, stopping you from uttering a word ‘Fuck, I’m just stalling him’ you bow your head down, staring at the grass and fiddling with your hands.

Sensing your nerves, he just stayed there with you, silently gazing into your head.

“[Name], can I… no, may I tell you something?” He spoke up after a while. To his question, you merely nod your head as a yes.

He let out a deep breath before proceeding; “I would like to tell you…” he started.

Raising your head to look at him, you noticed the tips of his ears burning red, ‘He’s flustered…?’ you thought.

“You… have bewitched me, body and soul, and I…’ He stopped for a little before continuing;

“And I love, I love, I love you… And I wish from this day forth never to be parted from you” He finally confesses, gazing at you with the softest eyes that hold so much love in them.

Shocked… After all this time, he also loved you? After all those sleepless nights of thinking if he loved anyone… 

Who he held so dear in his heart… was you…?

You couldn’t control the rosy tint that was dancing along your cheeks.

Approaching him, you took hold of his hand and rested your cheek on it… “Well, it would be a lie if I said I hold no feelings for you, ‘Luc..”

When he heard those words leave your mouth, a prominent red tint spread across his cheeks.

He brought you closer to him, faces only inches away from one another. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into him, as he captured the softness of your lips with his. You felt butterflies flutter around your stomach, you were sure he felt the same sensation.

In a bystander's eyes, it looked as if you were angels sent by Lord Barbatos himself with the sun rising behind you both, illuminating your figures and giving them a shining glow.

But to you, you were content, here, just having him already felt like heaven.

© aiikalvr, 2023 — do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my works without prior permission and/or confirmation on any platform!

[stevie-petey]

How about Steve and bug talking about what they think their future is gonna be like? When he comes and visits her at work and they just talk about random stuff. He just says something off handedly like " I hope my kids read like you do, I want them to be booksmart like you." " Do you wanna have kids?"

" oh yeah definitely I want six."

"Six?! I could probably only handle three, if my kids are anything like me they'll be leash kids I'm serious."

And it's just sweet, them talking about how they hope their life to be, not knowing that they're each other's future.

oooo YES !!!

enjoy <3

"how many kids would you want? ya know, assuming you actually do want kids in the future."

steves question causes you to drop the change youd been counting at the register. "im sorry, what?"

"kids?" he sees your bewilderment and frowns. "what, youve never thought about your future?"

"i mean, sure? but i havent given any thought about kids. im sixteen, steve."

"and im seventeen and know for a fact that i want my kids to be booksmart like you." steve responds, not even paying that much attention to you as he busies himself with a comic.

you stare at him in shock. god, steve harrington really does just say the most bizarre things so casually. hes thought about his kids? and about how he wants them to be like you?

sometimes, you really hate that he does this. because then he just leaves you there, always standing in shock, as he goes about his day as if this is all normal.

you take a deep breath and shake your head, you have a job to do. dimes and nickels need to be attended to. "can i ask what sparked this insane thought?"

steve holds up the comic hes reading. "see, these i like. but those books about war and peace? no thanks. but... i dont know. guess theyd be good for my kids, seeing as they made you so smart."

you laugh. "im not the genius you think i am. i still think spider-man is real."

"youre like, the top of your class. shush."

"so sassy for a man who daydreams about having kids." you tease, but something shifts behind steves eyes.

"it is weird, isnt it?" he ducks his head down. "sorry."

well, now you feel bad. sighing, you drop the change in your hand and walk over to steve. sure, its a bit weird, but also incredibly sweet that he already seems to know how he'll raise his kids in the future.

you sit next to him and pluck the comic out of his hands. "so, tell me. how many kids we talking?"

a smile returns to steves face. "definitely, like, six."

"six?" you choke on your spit. "and who is birthing these six fucking children?"

a pause, then a frown. "hm. ya know, i never thought about that."

"bless you," you pat steves knee and he laughs. "i think id like three or so. maybe more, but definitely at least three. i love having a sibling, and i love taking care of dustin and his friends. ive already got years of experience."

"three? weak. do better, y/n." steve pokes your side.

you slap his hand away. "hey, i know im a handful. so is dustin. with my luck, my children will be little mini dustins and that... is a very scary thought."

"im an only child-"

"shocking!"

"anyways, its lonely. so im having as many kids as i possibly can. itd be fun, and id take them out to play baseball and go to parks and build forts and-"

"read them bedtime stories so they become booksmart?"

steve snaps his fingers and smiles. "exactly! you get me, y/n."

you giggle. "i try."

and for the last hour of your shift, you and steve debate the hypotheticals of your futures. steve remains adamant that he becomes a housewife, and you declare that if even one of your kids turns out like dustin, then youre sending them to live with him.

its a good day.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

I bring forth the promissed Tails angst headcanons!!! cuz god forbid I go to sleep on time and stay asleep. Most of these (all of them actually I think) are stolen or derived from works of other people over the time I've spent in this fandom, so y'all are more than welcome to add your own!!

This one got way longer than anticipated

× Not in any particular order, but my favorite one is gotta be that those two brown foxes always seen bulling Tails are his older siblings. "Oh but they don't even look similar!!" Shh Tails has leucism, which brings its own share of problems and an extra mutation to get ostracized for. Buuut the crux of this headcannon is that irl fox family structures work like that. Unlike wolves who playfight with no real harm meant, fox kits engage in lethal baby fights, usually ganging up on the weaker and smaller ones of the litter, while the parents continue doing their best taking care of the ones that remain.

× While the topic of not so great family is up, Tails got his gambling habits from his dad. Before he ended up abandoned in the woods, that was the only way he heard was a "quick and easy" way to make money. And back in the day when Sonic was struggling to make the change, Tails offered to help in any way he could. (This is more wholesome than angst but remember!! Gambling is the ultimate evil of the world!!!) That is to say, speedrunning getting banned from every casino he visited (this is cannon actually)

× Besides many other not exactly ideal horrible things his parents done to him, one of the smaller ones was that they refused to read him bedtime stories. Absolutely fucking not. So he ignored the jealousy he felt towards his siblings and learned to read on his own very, very early on. He also cried the first time Sonic offhandedly offered to read him a story book.

× Tails is really good at hide and seek, specifically the hide part. He had to learn to be good at it if he wanted to avoid another bruise or broken bone. He doesn't really enjoy the role of seeker either, bro still hasn't found his parents (could've worded that more seriously but I'm in a silly goofy mood) as such he also doesn't like the game.

× And he feels the same about Tag. Not a big fan of being chased down for the sole purpose of than being faced with sudden physical contact. I'd say it gets better with time as most of his insecurities do, but he refuses the play as he ages up, he has no time for that!! He's a responsible adult now!! (He's 11)

× He's also really good at swimming cuz he had to learn how to swim, if he didn't want to get drowned multiple times over.

× He likes it best when he's sleeping on an elevated surface since thats where he felt the safest. Because no one would think to look for an animal who's most adapted to dig a burrow up between tree branches.

× Also one is really big fan of Tails' namesakes subconsciously twirling together into one when he's uncomfortable around someone. Even years later when he no longer feels any insecurity about them or his capability to defend himself, he kept the habit.

× Tails' fur coat is really thick and shiny now that he can properly take care of it. It hides a lot of scars and the visible ones are usually assumed to be from work accidents. Most of them are much older than his ability to tinker freely however.

× Now I bring to the table something sillier; Forever short king Tails. Listen I love older/adult Tails taller than Sonic as much as the other guy, mainly cuz I Understand that frustration of your younger siblings growing taller than you, but for today's angst purposes, he had (has) really poor nutrition and extremely stressful environment, which stunted his growth, so he shall be short forever.

× Tying into Tails not getting to eat as often when he was a literal toddler; while I generally don't feel the need to have explanations or extensive backstories for likes, dislikes and phobias of a character, someone said that when Tails was a tiny guy and starving, he learned that chewing on mint leaves helped satiate the hunger just a bit so mint remained as his comfort food and I hadn't been the same since

× And at last, way back when, all alone in a tiny cave he found and took refuge in from time to time, especially the days he felt not so well, he was almost sure he'd die of sickness once. Tails was no stranger to getting sick or wondering if hed make it through another day, but with this one he genuinely felt like he was dying. Since then, he has fully accepted that any night could be his last. For a kid not even in the double digits, he is pretty lax about the idea of suddenly facing death for good. Sonic is not a big fan of that.

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

I know you made jamie as a boy dad hcs but can you please please make jamie as a girl dad hcs too? (Cuz, unpopular opinion, i think he'd make a killer girl dad)

of course! i've always head canoned he has a daughter and a son bc i don't get boy dad vibes or girl dad vibes like for nash (girl dad vibes obvously). hope you like them <3.

they are both obsessed with food and love trying new things out. they would go visit all of these exotic food places just to try new things out together. they also aren't afraid to try new things at restaurants, etc.

they'd go to the pet shelter together to see animals bc avery doesn't want them to get a pet (she knows they're too irresponsible)

she wouldn't want to spend a second away from her father. she would hang onto his leg really tight whenever he was planning on going out so that he'd bring her with him. he'd always be walking around with his daughter hanging onto him.

he'd try to get along (and he'd succeed) with all of her friends and partners (i hc his daughter is bi).

when she was like five and would get mad at her father, she would ask him to crouch so that she could smack him in the back of his head with her tiny hands and then she'd walk away harrumphing.

we know jameson absolutely loves rock climbing, and i hc that she would learn how to so that rock climbing could become their father-daughter bonding activity.

she would love getting her nails painted and would get jamie to do it bc he was better than avery.

speaking of getting your nails painted, she'd never ask him to, but he'd always paint his nails the same color as his daughter so that they'd match.

she hates it when people read her bedtime stories because she prefers having her dad tell her about his crazy adventures. according to her, bedtime stories are boring.

they are suckers for movies and tv shows, especially shows like game of thrones and the witcher. they make a huge thing out of it. every week on fridays and/or saturdays, they binge watch things on tv with the biggest assortment of candy and popcorn you've ever seen.

his daughter would end up having avery's hair and facial structure (brown and wavy with natural highlights), but would have jameson's eyes.

she'd be really interested in photography (her interest in it came from grayson) and would ask jameson to ask grayson to teach her bc she was too scared (gray was surprised to hear she was scared to ask him, and made sure she knew that he would do anything for his nieces and nephews) (oh and he'd say yes)

i can also imagine her being really into robotics. she'd constantly be asking jameson to hold things still for her or hold two pieces together. she'd be ordering him around like a puppy.

her first word was game or puzzle bc jameson is always saying it

they'd constantly be making pillow forts. they'd go all out. take whatever you're imagining in your head (if you're imagining anything) and make it 1491030 bigger because they would 100% try to beat the guinness world record for biggest pillow fort.

whenever she had a presentation or project on her idol, she'd most of the time pick her dad. he has always been and will always be her hero.

jameson would have an obsession with running his hands through her hair. she'd have to softest hair you could ever imagine. he'd have so much fun buying tons of little bows for her.

jameson would have a pinterest board for all of the outfit ideas he has for her.

jameson wouldn't play games like peek a boo with his daughter, he'd invent his own, more interesting games (idk what they would be) because he doesn't want to be an ordinary dad. also, i hc she wouldn't even like peek a boo

she'd hate going to school as a kid bc she'd be really shy. jameson would kiss her hand everyday before school and tell her that all of his courage was in that kiss, and that she was now even more invincible than before.

he'd be the type of dad who doesn't give a fuck if his daughter were to ask him to buy pads for her or smth. he wouldn't be embarrassed, he'd just head to the store and get her some.

i mentioned that she'd be really into robotics. when she was younger, she'd ask xander to help her make little gifts for her dad (not just for his birthday but also on random occasions simply bc she wanted him to know he was appreciated).

whenever she'd cry as a baby, no one would be able to comfort her and get her stop other than jameson. people thought he had magical baby hands or smth bc no matter what anyone else did, she never stopped.

she'd would refuse going to the doctors unless her father was there. she said it was because he was her source of courage and comfort, and that without him she wouldn't be able to do it. jameson would assure her that she'd be able to do it alone, and at some point (when she was like 10), she demanded to be alone in the doctors office cause she realized she was a girl boss and didn't need a man.

whenever she'd have trouble falling asleep, she'd get jamie to sing her a lullaby. she found his voice reassuring.

speaking of having trouble going to sleep, if jamie's singing didn't work, sleeping cuddled up in his arms always did. she used to say that his arms protected her for all of the bad things in the world, and, that, as long as she had him by his side, she'd be fine.

they'd buy matching sunglasses bc they were convinced it made them look cool.

he'd be the type of dad who hates keeping secrets. he would tell her everything (even if she didn't understand) bc he also hates it when people keep secrets from him and he isn't a hypocrite.

he'd most definitely be the type of dad to sit down for hours with his daughter helping her with her hmk. she hates being alone, and he knows this so he makes sure she has company as often as possible

he'd also be the type of dad to know the name of each and everyone of her friends, teachers, enemies. he'd gossip with her and talk shit about the people she hates.

that's it! hope you enjoyed these <3.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 19

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: E Chapter warnings: Flashback- I'm still blueballing you on the smut, it's just getting worse this week. The flashback is sexy but hardly crossing to rated M AN: Special gift for a reader having a bad day- Bonus chapter. This will be the last of the bonus chapters though since running two series at the same time is a bit demanding (and a self made hell). We get to learn a bit about Sally's dad! Also, Mia's baking is wholly based on my attempt to make the same for my sister on a time crunch. My centers didn't set though! I love step dad Tom. Masterlist Kofi

~~~~~<3

Mia felt silly banishing Tom to bedtime duty as she quickly whipped egg yolks and sugar. She was rushing and knew that was a recipe for disaster but she didn’t want to give herself a second to chicken out. 

She hadn’t know what to expect having Tom back and so she hadn’t planned a fancy dinner or a night out. He was scheduled to be in late so it didn’t seem like it would have mattered anyway, she would have had to have been quick to get Sally back home and to sleep.

Tom showing up significantly earlier was a huge weight off her shoulders logistically. She wasn’t very good at being a wife yet, she didn’t even know how to be a girlfriend very well but she wanted to show him her gratitude.

Ray, Sally’s father, had been her last real relationship and the only things he cared about were booze, gambling or sex. If she wanted to thank him, it had to be with one of those three things if not all three.

Tom was like no man she had ever known though and she didn’t know how to show him her gratitude. The best she could come up with was to make the fanciest thing she could think of.

Would it stack up to the vase of flowers on the counter in front of her? She sure as hell hoped so. Doubt ate at her as she mixed the whipped sugar and egg yolks into the hot cream. 

This was a terrible idea. 

It was by far, the worst idea she had had since agreeing to stay married. 

She saw that body- there was no way in hell he ate things like this. He probably would rather a bowl of fruit or something. On the other hand, she had seen the foods he had ordered when they had gone out to eat. 

Again and again she went back and forth on the quality of the idea as Tom crossed the hall from the bathroom with Sally on his back. Giggles filled the apartment and god did it sound good. 

As Mia was filling the two small dishes with the mixture, Tom was leaning against the wall by Sally’s bedroom door. “Having fun?” Mia called to him. 

“Oddly enough, yes.” His chuckle made her smile. She couldn’t help it, it was just such a unique sound. 

~~~~~<3

Mia listened to Tom’s voice reading story after story while she willed the mixt o bake faster. She had managed to get the custards out of the oven before he had finished reading the tenth story. Maybe it was the twelfth?

Who knows anymore? That little girl had Tom wrapped around her finger. Hopefully it would last. This game they were playing, this gamble on forever with a stranger could have shattering results on that little girl. 

Fuck, they were being so selfish trying. 

Cooling the dishes was the most high stakes gambling she had done in at least a year. Okay, maybe staying married was up there too. If she cooled the water bath too quickly, they would shatter. But she needed them cooled to finish setting. 

She didn’t have an extra so she was fucked if one shattered. It felt like she had melted her fingertips off handling the little containers but she got them cooled. The centers had a little more jiggle that she would have liked but she could only hope they would finish setting in the freezer while they finished cooling. 

Mia plopped them in the freezer as Tom starting Fox in Socks. She would have to tell him to limit Sally’s stories eventually so that kid would get to sleep at a decent time but for now she couldn’t bring herself to. Sally hadn’t had a father figure in her life in years and she couldn’t stop her from indulging in it at the moment. 

Plus, she needed all the extra time she could to finish this stupid ass dessert.

~~~~~<3

Mia didn’t have many fancy kitchen trinkets or tools but the one thing she was rather proud of was her kitchen torch. It wasn’t the big fancy ones that burned propane like on the cooking shows but it was good enough. 

Mia toasted the spoonful of sugar she put on each custard as she listened to Tom say goodnight for the fourth time. Maybe it was the sixth time? 

He was so good with Sally. Someday, some woman was going to make him into a really good father. 

It occurred to her that she could be that woman. If things worked out between them during this year, she could be the woman that made him a father. In a way though, hadn’t she already made him a father over night? The thought was so shocking to her that she nearly burned her finger when she forgot to turn the custard. 

Finally, after over an hour bedtime routine that Mia would have accomplished in fifteen minutes, Tom closed Sally’s bedroom door behind him. 

“You escaped the clutches of the small child, congratulations!” Mia cheered.

“It was a long, well fought battle but with dedication, I did come out victorious.” Tom made his way toward her, “What are you making now?” 

“It’s nothing.” Mia said, setting the torch down and looking intently down at the quickly hardening sugar topped custard. “Is she asleep?”

“Out like a light. She’s a lovely little girl.” 

Mia laughed, “Give it a few weeks and you’ll probably be running for the hills.” 

Tom protested and Mia conceded that Sally was indeed a good kid. She was the kind of kid that made people think they could have kids as she sent him to go sit down anywhere but where she was working. 

While she watched melted sugar solidify, she also watched Tom as he lounged on the couch. His long legs stretched from one end to the other and he had a book in his hand. She couldn’t see what he was reading but she knew it was something she probably wouldn’t read. 

She could see the top of the book, his long feet poking over the arm of the couch and the top of his head and little else. It was a view she liked though she couldn’t explain why. He looked like he belonged there, lounging on the admittedly too small couch. 

She should have just sucked it up and got a better couch form somewhere that didn’t require her own assembly.

It was almost nine at night. This time a week ago she was just starting to get really drunk. Over the last two weeks, she had tried hard to remember what had happened but all she could come up with was the bar in the resort she worked out and sitting next to a handsome man who purchased her a drink. And then another. 

It seemed pretty safe to assume that man was Tom, though. It had been a wild two weeks. She had fought, argued, gave in and everything in between. This had been two weeks that had changed her life in so many ways already and it was thanks to that man reading on her couch (their couch) alone. 

Tapping a spoon against the disk of sugar atop the custards, she found them solid.  Crème brûlée was the only really impressive thing Mia thought she could make. It was also something she had an almost total ban on ordering at a restaurant on principle alone. It was offensively easy to make but disturbingly bad for you.

The ceramic ramekins clanked onto the small dining table. Mia stared down at them for a moment and gathered every ounce of courage she could. Tom had again and again shown a good faith effort to build a relationship with her and she had not made it easy.

This last week she had fought him on almost every effort than got upset when he got busy and distant. She needed to make an effort too. He deserved her making an effort. 

If she wanted this to have any chance of becoming something real, something more, then she needed to invest in it too. 

“Okay.” Mia took one last deep breath. “You can look.”

Tom sat up quickly, tossing the book he had been reading on the couch and swinging his legs to the ground. He was up and eagerly making his way to the table as if he had really just been itching for the word. 

“What have you been up to?” Tom was clearly excited. 

Mia picked up one of the ramekins and held it out to Tom. “Happy two week anniversary.” After a pause, she started to panic. “I don’t know if you like these. Or if you can eat them. Or, whatever. I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t-”

“You made creme brûlée for us?” Tom was shocked. “Out of what?” 

“It’s not healthy, that’s all you need to know.” 

Tom laughed that laugh that was oh so unique to him. “But you just had the stuff to make creme brûlée? Just sitting around casually?” 

“Do you like-”

“Of course.” Tom took a seat at the table and tapped the spoon against the glass like disk of solid sugar. 

“I wasn’t sure if you could have something like that.” Stop talking. She hated how words left her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Awkward word vomit fueled by every insecurity she had ever had. 

“What do you mean?” Tom cracked the sugar top with a solid whack of his spoon.

“I just-”

Tom scooped a spoonful of custard up, being sure to grab some of the shattered sugar before glancing up at her. He watched her intently as he ate the first bite. Vanilla exploded in his mouth, carried on a current of rich custard. Delicate sugar shards gave the custard texture and carried their own caramel taste along with a touch of bitterness.The center of the custard was just slightly warm still but mercifully, Mia saw that it was set.

“Something you watched or read got into your head. I can always eat dessert, even if I can’t. I would rather put in more work than not eat a sweet. And this is delicious darling. Happy two week anniversary.” 

~~~~~<3 ~~~~~<3

Tom flipped her so that she was on her back and he hovered above her. Gripping the fabric of the dress, he carelessly yanked at it as he stood up, pulling it harshly down her body. 

The dress caught on her hips though. Tom hadn’t ripped it far enough down for it to slip past her waist. Tom didn’t know if the dress was designed to go on from above or if the maze of fastenings simply extended far below where he had torn but he didn’t care. 

Leaning down, he placed soft kisses between her breasts and down her stomach as he grabbed fistfuls of the dress again. With a great effort, he ripped the dress further down. As soon as he had the slack to do so, he pulled the dress down her body and threw it on the ground behind him. 

Her panties were plain, simple and not what one would expect to find under a wedding dress. They hadn’t stopped long enough to worry about shopping for such things. 

Standing over her, he started to work his buttons free after yanking his tie down until it was hanging loose, nearly undone. She was sprawled out before him, naked breasts on full display for his hungry eyes. 

He enjoyed the view. There were little scars and marks on her body showing a life well lived. She had marks where her body and grown quickly at one point. Her belly curved and swelled ever so slightly, soft and inviting to the touch. 

Growing impatient, she leaned up and eagerly assisted with the buttons on his shirt. The way her breasts moved with her body was mesmerizing, distracting to him. His fingers yearned to touch them instead of the buttons of his shirt. He all but ripped the shirt off as soon as it was sagging around his body, eager to feel her flesh against his.

~~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72 @soulpiercing @evedia

[gothamitelove]

Hi hi!

How are you doing? I hope your doing well ❤

I was hoping that you could do a platonic yandere btas dork squad x monster child!reader

The dork squad live together in a base where they conduct experiments and live together, one day when going back on of the members finds a little child with blood all over their mouth, they look behind the child and see a body of a man with his stomach practically ripped open.

They decide to bring the child back and yk raise it

Maybe the child has a mouth like mileena from mortal kombat?

Drink and eat lots of good stuffs!

❤ anon

hi anon!! this is cute im not even gonna lie rn

jon probably finds you first, and he brings you home because 1) you're a kid, he can't just leave you out there and 2) you already show so much potential. you're going to terrorize gotham when you grow up and it'll be such fun to watch

jervis is the one to clean you up. he hums to you and fills the air with his idle chatter and promises to read you alice in wonderland as a bedtime story

ed is the one who is a little fucking skeptical about this and not immediately taken with you, but as soon as you show him any sort of affection, he's done. down for the count

jon absolutely coaches you in the art of scaring the fuck out of people

jervis will teach you the best ways to poison people

and ed buys you weapons for your birthday. or any other occasion he can think of. here's a huge fucking hammer go nuts

most protective parents on the planet.

seriously if some kid is mean to you and YOU dont kill them, THEY will

and if you do, they defend you on it. you must've had a good reason after all

parenthood really does change people (it makes these guys worse)

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

WELCOME BACK!!! That’s right fellow humans, it’s the second episode of

Bedtime Stories With PCE

And man did I enjoy writing this one, my sweet boys, Stan with the broken ribs and struggling with being hurt for the first time since running dry, his super awesome sponsor, Kyle w the solutions, Moose being the best lil cat ever, just!!!!! And this one is really important to me, because it is SMACK DAB in the middle of Broken Bottles From Apartment 2 after our beloved vet tech Stan gets kicked by a scared horse at work, setting the ball rolling for the rest of that story. Essentially I wanted to address more of his mentality following that incident, and to have y’all meet his AA sponsor! Iconic. Here’s

•coconut yogurt•

“Jesus, dude, that looks bad.”

“I’m-“ Stan cut off with a sharp *schh* as Kyle helped him the rest of the way out of his scrub shirt. “Fuck, I’m okay.”

Breathing fucking hurt. More than that, he was seriously bummed that not only was he on bed rest for two weeks (something that his partner would no doubt enforce with an iron fist), but he was gonna be stuck to paperwork once he could finally go back to work. And it wasn’t like he could quell the boredom by slipping away to the clinic for a few hours while Kyle was at his own job, because Wendy ran the front office and would not hesitate to rat him out.

“Baby, they’re only a little cracked.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and carefully helped him ease to a more comfortable laying position on the couch, gently resting one of the big ice packs they always kept on hand over his side. “Where’s your discharge shit?”

“Front pocket,” he muttered.

Kyle grabbed the papers and scanned them quickly. “Hairline fractures… bone bruising, sweetheart, how on earth are you breathing?”

“Carefully?” His partner didn’t seem to like that response. “Ky, I’m okay. You know how much worse it could’ve been?”

“YES! Yes, I do, Stan! Don’t fucking-“ his face softened. “Don’t smile like that about broken ribs, dude.”

“I’m not smiling about that; I’m smiling about you.”

“You’re hopeless,” Kyle laughed. “The hell am I supposed to do with your hopeless romantic ass when you say sappy bullshit?”

Stan might’ve been a little foggy from the pain. Maybe. “Aww, babe, C’mere,” he struggled to open his arms, which was annoying, yeah, but he wanted to hold Kyle.

“Dude, I am SO not laying on you.”

“Just a little?”

“No.”

Kyle went to read the paperwork again, fully ignoring Stan’s efforts to get cuddled. “Babe…”

“Your prescription should be ready, dude.” Kyle knelt down to kiss him. “Gonna be good if I’m gone for a few?”

Stan pouted, knowing damn well he was being dramatic, but not caring. “I don’t want it.”

“We went over this, sweetheart. You had a problem with alcohol, not pills. Is it just because you don’t like taking stuff anyway?”

“…yeah.”

“Okay.” Kyle kissed him again. “You’re sure?”

Honestly, he wasn’t. There were a lot of feelings coming up right now. Kyle noticed, because of course he did. “Stan, I know that face.”

Against his will, tears started trailing from the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, dude, I know.” Kyle took Stan’s face in his hands. “Look, I really don’t want you to hurt, okay? I know you’re emotional right now. I’ll give you your meds when you need them, and you don’t need to think about it. I can ask the pharmacy about the info too. Hon, we’re gonna know exactly what you’re taking, and you’ll be just fine.”

“I- I always heal fast.”

“You do,” Kyle assured him. “And there’s nothing wrong with needing a little help, okay?”

“Uh huh.” Yeah, he would call his sponsor. He needed to talk this out, with someone who got it. Kyle understood for the most part; he literally had a degree in psychology and had been firsthand through an eating disorder, which was its own form of addiction, but, well, specifics. “I’m- *hic*- gonna text Mark, maybe zoom into tonight’s meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kyle rose and ran his hand through Stan’s hair. “Ten minutes, hopefully.” He glanced at the corner and laughed. “Oh, poor thing doesn’t know what to do! It’s okay, Moose, c’mere, keep your dad company.”

Their cat slowly crept up to the couch, perching on the arm like a sentinel and making a cute little “mrrmm”.

“Good boy.” Kyle spun his keys once around his finger, and put on a serious face, staring down at Stan with one eyebrow raised. “Now, don’t you move.”

“Just stay where I can see you douse the lights.”

Kyle laughed. “You’re incredibly lame. I’ll be right back.”

That laughter seriously helped so much. “Okay, dude, you know where to find me.”

Moose had started purring, asleep next to him by the time Stan worked up the motivation to get his phone and send Mark a “yo I got the fuck kicked out of me by a horse I won’t be there tonight”. The old man immediately called him.

“Hey,” Stan answered, trying not to laugh at how fast that call was, because he knew that would feel awful.

“The hell do you mean, “hey”, Superman? How’d you get kicked by a damn horse?”

“Oh, you know.” Just hearing his sponsor’s voice helped. Some of the older crowd at AA had taken to calling him “Superman” too, which was objectively funny, and also comforting to hear, especially right now, when he was feeling vulnerable. “Went to give him an antibiotic shot, he got scared and bucked around, broke my ribs.”

“Christ.” He could practically hear Mark rolling his eyes through the phone. “Leave it to you. How ya doin’ with all of that? Gonna be able to come chair tomorrow?”

Judging by how much he was hurting, definitely not, even if Kyle would let him leave the apartment. “I was thinking I’d Zoom in. Will you, uh, do you think that’d work?”

Mark chuckled. “Well, I don’t know much about the video callin’ you young folks do, but I’ll figure it out. Might need ta get Laura to help me. She’s good with technology.”

Laura was a woman even older than Mark, who was not good with technology. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

“Seriously though, kid, are you okay?”

Stan sighed. “It’s- I’m nervous,” he admitted. “About the feelings this is gonna bring up. We’ve talked about my coping mechanisms before, like how I like to move, when I start feeling down, instead of drinking? But I…”

“You can’t go for a hike or work out with busted ribs,” Mark finished. “I know being injured, havin’ to stay put, that’s a trigger for you. Like the bender you told me about in high school, after you broke your arm.”

“Yeah…” Not even Kyle knew how bad he had spiraled that time. He knew it had been bad, but not to the extent that it had gotten to. Getting hurt because of something he loved, combined with the timing and completely changing his career path senior year, all of that had led to a full depressive episode, complete with binge drinking and attempting to cut his cast off with bolt cutters. “I still could’ve been scouted in the spring,” he muttered dejectedly.

“But you chose to quit football,” Mark reminded him. “You’ve said you don’t regret that. You remember why you don’t regret it?”

Reaching up to pet his cat, the little creature who had been the driving force to him actually applying his degree, Stan was reminded that he really did like how his life was turning out.

“Yeah. I’m where I’m supposed to be, right?”

“Not for me to say, Superman,” Mark said. “You’re a damn good vet, and gettin’ hurt because of your job happens.” The smile was clear in his voice. “You’re more worried about the horse, ain’t ya?”

Stan once again had to force himself not to laugh. “Dude, he was scared. I was literally coming at him with a needle.”

“And what would you do if you were in his horseshoes?”

“Mark, dude, please don’t make jokes, laughing hurts like a bitch.” He checked the time. Kyle would be back home any minute. “Same thing, though. Ky’s gonna be on my ass about painkillers. That’s… uh, kinda why I needed to talk.”

“Hmm. I gotcha. You’re worried about the addiction potential? Combined with being home alone until you go back to work?”

Hit the nail on the head. Stan nodded, then remembered that Mark couldn’t see him. “Pretty much. I’m just… I haven’t been hurt this bad, since running dry. I’m not sure what to do to distract myself, honestly.”

“Alright.” Mark could be pretty straightforward, when it came to a course of action, a lot like Kyle. “You like them video games, right? And reading your fantasy books? Bet you got one downloaded on your phone right now.”

As a matter of fact, he did. “Uh, yeah, Atherton, I think”

“I don’t know what the hell that is, but you catch my drift?”

Moose had moved down to drape over him like a scarf, warm and little and soft. Sweet little guy; he always took care of his dads. And Stan had a support system. He’d be okay. “I’m picking up what you’re putting down, dude,” he said into the phone. “Distractions that aren’t physical, but keep me engaged, right?”

“And bingo was his name-o,” Mark confirmed. “Good to think of some that you can do when you’re my age, anyway. You ain’t gonna be Superman forever, right?”

“Dude-“ Stan heard the security door open, finally. Kyle.

Mark interrupted. “I know you got that whole thing about age, kid, sorry. I know you’re strugglin’ so how’s about we just focus on today. That boyfriend of yours taking care of ya?”

“Mhm. I’m pretty sure he just got home.” Yeah, definitely, because Stan could hear the voice of Sheila Broflovski through the door, and Kyle probably didn’t even have her on speaker. “Yeah, he’s home, and on the phone with his mom.”

“Uh oh,” Mark laughed. He had heard many a tale. “She’s gonna give you an earful. I’ll let ya go, then. You can call me anytime, okay? It works if you work it.”

“It works if you work it,” Stan repeated. “Thanks, dude. I’ll probably skip tonight, but I’ll call into the meeting tomorrow, okay?”

“Gotcha. Tell Kyle and y’all’s critter I say hi.”

“Will do.”

Right as he ended the call, Kyle burst in, arms full of Walgreens bags and his phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder, looking hilariously frazzled. “Oh my GOD, Ma, look okay, he is literally right here just- OKAY, Jesus, yes I’m putting him on-“ he gave Stan an expression that clearly was asking if he was up for this. Stan nodded and grabbed the phone so Kyle could get everything set down.

“I’m here.”

“STANLEY!!! Are you okay?! Oh my GOODNESS I can absolutely drive up- do you need anything?! Have you told Sharon?”

Kyle mouthed “don’t blame me”. Stan shifted a little. He’d been talking a lot for the past half hour and he was actually starting to have trouble catching his breath. “No ma’am, I- wait, how did you find out?”

“Your friend Bebe’s gossip list! She posted to Facebook and said “a certain vet got kicked by a horse” and I just KNEW IT WAS YOU! Kyle said he was picking up your medication?”

“Fuckin-“ Kyle took the phone back. “Ma, okay, I’ve got him. I’m going to take care of him and- Ma. I’m not putting Stan back on the phone. It hurts him to talk. Yes, I’ll tell his mom. No, he’s on bed rest. Do you seriously think I’m letting him out of my- okay, okay, sorry, no- oh my God, I’m not making chicken noodle soup, he’s been vegetarian for twenty years, Ma. Alright. We love you too. Christ, yes, I’m eating. Please don’t start right now. Alright. Yes. We got it. Okay. I’ll keep you updated. Yeah, love you. Bye.”

Kyle slumped over the kitchen island, groaning. “If you say anything about me being exactly like my mother, I’m gonna be super annoying and not run interference next time she calls.”

“Pretty sure you’re not beating the Sheila allegations, baby.”

“Ughhhhh.”

Stan reached his hand backwards, eyes closed, waiting for his partner to take it. “Talked to Mark.”

Kyle took his hand, kneeling by the couch and kissing his forehead. “Good, sweetheart. Do you think you’re okay to get some medicine in you? I know it hurts.”

He was always so thoughtful, so gentle with him, and not in a condescending way, either. No wonder Kyle was so good at his job. He could handle a grown ass man emotional over broken bones; angsty preteens were probably a cakewalk to him.

Stan bypassed the cat across his chest, lifting the ice pack from his lower torso. “How’s it looking?”

“Oh, honey.” Kyle sounded genuinely distressed, and Stan opened his eyes to see his partner actually genuinely distressed. “Stan, I can see the hoof print!”

“…damn.”

“Jesus, dude, you poor thing. ” He stood back up and grabbed the prescription bag from the counter, along with a snack sized yogurt from one of the bags. “Solution time.”

“I’m listening.” He’d take just about any idea. It hurt.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. I got a few things of that coconut yogurt you like. I checked with the pharmacist and she said we can crush up your painkillers into it if you want, if you’re not feeling the swallowing pills. I can keep up with your dosage schedule so you don’t need to think about it.” He tilted Stan’s face up to make sure they were seeing eye to eye. “But if you want to take them less often and stick to ice and over the counters, that’s okay. I’ll handle the thinking about shit, and you handle the taking it easy.”

Stan eyed the bottle. “Are they gonna make me sleepy?” The thought scared him.

“Oh, dude.” Kyle could strategize incredibly, though. “We can start with half, okay? It isn’t likely that they’ll knock you out, sweetheart. You’re not a small guy, and I asked. Dosage isn’t high. And you say the word; we work something else out. First priority is keeping you comfortable so you can heal, okay? Does that help?”

“I’m gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, you are,” Kyle assured him. “I’m right here, you know how to deal with this, and you’ll be better before you know it. Now, some meds and I’ll help you upstairs? We can take a nap? I’ll be right there, dude. Keep you from moving around too much.”

He knew damn well Kyle wouldn’t be sleeping a wink. But he nodded. “You’re for real gonna feed me my painkillers in yogurt like I’m a puppy?”

Kyle grinned. “Whatever works.” He reached over to pet Moose. “Whatcha think, young nastyman? Do I have good plans or what?”

Stan slowly sat up, an arm around his midsection and definitely not comfortable, but that was alright. Pretty soon he’d be able to breathe a little better. “What would I do without you, Ky?”

[bokutosmochi]

nsfw akaashi keiji headcannons

what's it? smut allergen warning/s? fem!reader [no pronouns mentioned], [only brief because these are just headcannons]: hints to masturbation, teasing, oral, hair pulling, body worship sugar level? 0.6k regulars? @hanayanetwork​

♧ he's not the most experienced person out there. it comes as no surprise that the only people he sleeps with are his long-term partners. he just isn't comfortable being that intimate with a stranger. but that being said, he's still one of the most skilled because he's so interested in what makes people tick. he can observe his partner and figure out what they like pretty easily, he doesn't even have to consciously think about it, really.

♧ has a hidden box full of polaroid pictures of his partner nude which he uses when he's horny and they're not around. he took those photos and stores them under his bed with their consent, of course.

♧ quite iffy about doing more kinky things at first, but after a discussion with his partner and doing research into it that's just as thorough, he starts to like it.

♧ the one to bring condoms whenever he's with his partner. he's very responsible and reliable in all aspects of the word.

♧ a switch, but usually prefers being a bottom. if he's being the dom, he's a power bottom or a pleasure dom.

♧ very subtle when trying to tell his partner he wants to fuck whenever they're in public. he lets his hand linger on their thigh and whispers sweetheart, lets go home into their ear. normally, most people would not think anything of this, but there's a neediness in his eye that lets his partner know of what he wants.

♧ always cleans his partner up after and reminds them to go pee to reduce the likelihood of getting a urinary tract infection.

♧ always makes sure his partner cums. and on that topic, always makes sure his partner cums before him, whether that be with his mouth & tongue or with his dick. to him, it just feels weird when they don't.

♧ there are times when he read erotica before bed like it's a damn bedtime story.

♧ just like with everybody else, it took him a long time to find his groove during his first few times because knowing what his partner likes is an entirely different thing than being able to actually do it. however, he was a natural with his fingers and his mouth. can easily make his partner cum with it in less than fifteen minutes if he wanted to. likes prolonging the pleasure most of the time though.

♧ look, his partner could be sobbing and babbling incoherent things because of his mouth, rubbing themselves on his thigh, but unless they outright say they want him to fuck them, it is not happening. it doesn't matter that he can feel how wet they are, that there's a wet spot in their underwear that's starting to seep through his trousers as we speak. he still needs to hear those words.

♧ one time, his partner volunteered to give him head from under the table while he did his latest work and he said yes. he ended up getting nothing done aha. did get laid that night though so it's still a win for him.

♧ please do not pull on his hair in public. he Will moan.

♧ body worship! he loves it, either giving or receiving, preferably both. he loves kissing at every inch of his partner, especially at the part they're most insecure about and he loves being on the receiving end of all that loving too.

♧ hates quickies. he likes taking his time to savor the feeling of him and his partner at such an intimate state. he likes taking his time touching them, praising them, and making them feel good.

[twiixr4kidz]

I promise dis is da last request….. basically…. Scott and the evil exes (minus roxie) as parent. Y/n headcanons cause Yolo (agian so sorry bout meh overload… I just luv ur work)

omg it's not an overload at all!! i love the fun requests you have :D

scott and the evil exes (minus roxie) as parents!!

scott pilgrim

chaos but not in the absolutely crazy way - in the "i have no idea what im doing" way

he doesn't know how to hold a baby or how to feed a baby or how to change the baby's diaper

so you're going to have to give him like. a lesson on how to.

BUT WHEN HE FINALLY GETS THE HANG OF IT, expect him to actually let you sleep??

he knows it was a lot of work carrying a whole child for 9 months and even though he's exhausted from being up all night with a baby who's whining and crying for seemingly no reason...

he's just happy you're getting your much needed beauty sleep

matthew patel

somehow already knows exactly how to parent??

you don't know where it came from but seeing him bond with your kid is just precious

mattie has an air about him that causes the baby to just... stop?? crying??

you have no idea how he does it but whenever you can't figure out what's wrong, matthew can

this man is a sucker for playing peekaboo with the kid though

like an absolute sucker

the delight on his face when the baby gets surprised is hilariously adorable

lucas lee

bro was built to be a father IM JUST SAYING

he would be an incredible dad

he's not sure about the ins and outs, but neither are you, so it's a learning process for the two of you

the late nights of crying are less than favorable, but whenever one of you is too tired, the other takes over so they can get a little shut-eye in

he's definitely the kind of dad who wants the baby to be his little mini-me

MATCHING OUTFITS.

you're going to have to explain to lucas that he cannot put a mini leather jacket onto his 2 month old child and is going to (jokingly) argue with you over it

todd ingram

he gets the hang of the whole dad business pretty damn quick

especially for someone who was panicking about it merely weeks before the birth

and the day of the birth

and every day after that

NOT THE POINT

similarly to lucas, he thinks the whole matching outfit thing is absolutely adorable, and he's going to try to rope you into it too

he's gonna show the kid all of his favorite movies and play his favorite songs for them, even if they're too young to understand what's going on

he's also the kind of dad who totally talks to the kid about how much he loves their parents

kyle katayanagi

he has thrown confetti at this child every single month anniversary of their birth just because he thinks it's the funniest thing ever

and honestly, it kind of is

he's not happy about being up all night, and he's gonna complain about it A LOT

just give him the "i carried this fucking child for 9 months you have no room to talk" look and he'll shut up SJDKFHKSDJHF

despite being a huge dork, he's really helpful with the kid!!

i mean duh

he's the dad

absolutely loves playing with them

he reads them a bedtime story literally every single night and he doesn't plan on stopping ever

ken katayanagi

at first, he isn't sure what to do

of course he wants to bond with his own kid, but he doesn't know how to go about it

literally just hand him the baby while he's going about his normal tasks and he'll eventually get the hang of it

he loves putting the baby to bed, and whenever you can't find him, he's probably sitting in the chair next to crib and making sure the baby's okay

he's gonna be a little more overprotective of both you and your child just because he doesn't wanna see any harm come to either of you

like at all

gideon graves

he's the most responsible man ever

that being said, you once handed the baby off to gideon and came back to see he was explaining all the different parts of his music studio

to a 3 month old

who could only giggle and cry

that being said, he does take care of a lot of responsibilities around the house

moreso now that there's another person to worry about

he insists that you take care of the baby and make sure they're fed and changed and stuff

he starts cooking and cleaning more in between gigs, and even though you can't come as often anymore, he makes sure to make it up to you every single time

[pineappleciders]

hihi tyty for writing my request sometime could i also get the same rw omori characters with a sick reader?? like throwing up and shivering and stuff LMAO

TRIGGER WARNING: regurgitation

RW OMORI CHARACTERS WITH A SICK READER HEADCANONS// includes: AUBREY, SUNNY, KEL, HERO, MARI, and BASIL

AUBREY

she'll bring u canned cheap chicken noodle soup 

she'll rummage around in ur cabinet for pain/allergy meds, and she doesn't know a whole lot about medicine, so she'll probably have to ask you which ones work

she has to admit that she's a little grossed out when you vomit, but she'll hold a trash can by your bed for you any day

probably looks up 'how to help a sick person'

she'll check your temp with her hand a lot, and will check up on u very frequently. she gets anxious knowing you're alone and sick

she couldn't care less if she got sick from you. you're her biggest priority 

SUNNY

he'll definitely be asking MARI for help, because he's a bit lost

MARI and his mother always makes him smoothies or soup, and since he isn't the best at cooking, he'll be yet again be asking MARI for help

other than panicking about you to his sister, he's very concerned 

seriously thinking about getting you to a doctor, even if you tell him it's just a cold

he'll place a trash can by your bed while you're sleeping

will spend most of his days at your house, because he really doesn't want to be away from you, esp not while you're sick

will find the snot and vomit stuff kinda nasty, but that doesn't stop him from being by your side 24/7

he can't help but worry that your condition would get worse. and if it did, he will be helicoptering you at all times

will have MEWO cuddle with u to keep you warm

KEL

he spent a lot of time outside as a kid, and that really built his immune system, so he really doesn't get sick very often

and when he does, HERO is always there to help him, so he's never really taken care of someone who's sick

if you ask for like pepto bismol or cough medicine or something, he'll come back to your bed with a fucking popsicles or some shit

all jokes aside, he does worry about you a lot, esp since he doesn't feel like he can help you much

will most certainly ask HERO for help

he doesn't find your sniffles, coughs, or vomit gross! after all, he doesn't wash his hands

will roll you like a pig in a blanket if you start shivering (please be patient he doesn't understand fevers)

HERO

bet your ass that if you're sick, HERO is the first one to know

he will blend you grossly healthy smoothies, and encourages you to drink lots of water and gatorade

tucks you in with your stuffed animals every night

he will mainly be in your house the entirety of your illness

he is studying to be a doctor, so he will know what medicine will help!

will always ask if you need water, food, a heating pad, a fan... literally everything you could ever want

makes u eat your veggies 

he will do all your household chores for you. your laundry? done. sweeping? done. he will NOT let you leave your bed

MARI

she's similar to HERO, but she's a worrywart!

she likes to read you bedtime stories (no matter how much you try to tell her you aren't a child)

she hums soothing songs and holds your hand

she'll even spoon feed u!! u are getting the baby treatment when MARI's around

she will always drop by to see how you're doing, and will ask for updates from your parents to see how you're doing

is perfectly okay with getting sick for you (it's unlikely she will though because she has quite the immune system)

she likes to make you breakfast in bed, but you probably won't be able to keep it down, so she opts for soup and crackers

constantly asking if you're comfortable

will go grocery shopping for you 

and buys a shit ton of fruit

she cares about u a lot

BASIL

he worries a lot!!

will constantly check your temperature and bring you fresh water

gives you flowers and drawings to make you feel better

asks the rest of the group to come visit you

he doesn't keep his distance but he doesn't get sick somehow??

makes u soup and crackers, and encourages you to eat your veggies so you recover faster

probably visits you in bed/at home once or twice a day, and the two of you look through the photo album together (he'll end up cleaning it if u sneeze on it)

very concerned when you cough violently, and gives you something like a lollipop to suck on after you drink cough syrup because he knows how terrible it tastes

he'll give you a soft blanket his grandmother made him and will personally fan u if u get hot

afterwards, he tells you to take your vitamins and don't get wet so u don't get sick again!! after all, he misses u dearly when you're stuck at home

[rosedominatesyou]

Bedtime Stories w/ Rose

ੈ✩‧˚ Seeing Stars ‧˚ੈ✩

(Bedtime Story #2)

Good evening again my precious babies, I was able to write you all another bedtime story 💜 Remember to keep it in your likes until you’re snuggled up in your beds ready to fall asleep.

Before reading: Everything I’m about to say is real and actually happened. I’ve withheld things like certain locations and last names to be respectful to the people in the story.

If you all thought my last story was a wet sapphic dream, this next one might kill you if you’re a gamer. This is the tale of the stupid boy I let come across the country and sleep in my bed for two weeks. I must warn you, the beginning is much nicer than how it turns out.

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

Please look up the song “New Dork Pity” by Small Talks/Cayley Spivey.

The first video game console I ever owned was a Nintendo 64. I loved everything about the gaming experience. I have so many memories of staying up late and playing a brand new game I just got. The smell of the box after you took off the plastic wrap, ahhh it was my favorite.

I wasn’t doing much else at some point except sitting on the couch playing Destiny. I was completely obsessed. I had loved a lot of other games before this, but something about the world it built had me hooked. It took me a long time to finally start interacting with people in the game, but one day a random player invited me to join their raid group. I almost didn’t do it, because of my experience with using a mic (my voice is very feminine, and I got harassed a lot for being a ‘gamergirl’), but I always wondered what would have happened if I turned that guy down. If I never agreed to that one thing.

Destiny raids became my life. I didn’t think I could get more obsessed.

The group of guys I got to know became some of the best friends I ever had. They were surprisingly all really nice. They would flock to defend me if anyone was rude or mean to me, and I was always the one in charge during our runs. I think about them all the time, and I know they probably think about me a lot too.

Not everyone could play all the time, one of our dudes had a wife and kids, and he was always the first to tell us he had to go. A regular occurrence during raid night was all of us sitting around sending out invites to everyone we knew so that we could get a 6th guy.

That’s how I met Gio. Or, well, we all called him Shepherd, because that was the short version of his gamertag. He was someone’s friend that was the first to reply. I didn’t think much of him at first: he was really cocky, telling everyone what to do and how we were going to run it, but he was also really good. Most of the randoms we invited were total scubs, but not Shep. He knew how to play. But he also learned quickly that I was the one who called the shots.

We’d end up running the same raid group together every week for a year straight.

I don’t have good mobility in my thumbs anymore because of how much playing I did. Shep and I were a dream team, plowing through the Trials of Osiris and getting to the lighthouse countless of times. There was a Valentine’s themed event that used the song “Just The Two Of Us” as the intro and it will forever make me think of that stupid fucking boy.

It would be getting late, and everyone else in our group would slowly start signing off. “You going to bed too, Goat?” They’d ask me. (Yes, he was my Shepherd and I was his Goat..)

I’d lie and say that I was, but Shep was doing the same thing and we would both put our status to offline and stay in the game together. We wouldn’t even play, just let our ships float in orbit as we talked to eachother. Sometimes we would run around the tower all night together while we talked about game lore.

One time we had our characters ‘pose’ in the lounge so that I could take a screenshot and “finally have a photo of us together”. His Titan and my Hunter. Even after everything you’re about to read that happens, I still have that screenshot printed out, buried deep in a box somewhere in my closet with the rest of my old memories.

It was time to stop acting like this wasn’t a relationship. We were having phone sex regularly and everyone in our group knew you couldn’t get between us.

I still hadn’t seen what he looked like, well, not really. He was very into cosplay, so any picture he sent me was him with a mask/helmet on. I got him to video chat with me once, but he hid most of his face behind the blanket the whole time.

Once I graduated high school, I had signed a work contract to be a live-in maid for a family in Germany, and I only had the summer left until I was to leave (shhh, I know, a bedtime story for another time). I was to be gone for several months, and I was afraid that Giovanni would forget about me by the time I got back. He didn’t. He told me that he thought about me everyday I was gone.

We made plans for us to see eachother. He offered to spend all of his own money to come out here. He lived in Chicago, and I lived in California.

I already had lots of experience with relationships at this point, but never with a boy. I was going to be the first girl he’d ever be with too. I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling. I didn’t want it to be like this at first, but Gio was always just…there. It just happened.

Here’s a small snipit from a journal entry I wrote two months before he was to arrive:

“What if he isn’t what I want when we’re together? What if when we first kiss I don’t feel anything? What if he is even more persistent in person? What if it’s all just me and he’s a great guy but I just don’t feel for him? What if he doesn’t like me? What if it all just falls apart?”

I always found it helpful to ask myself questions when I journal. I thought these were all stupid things to worry about at the time, but they were all so incredibly valid.

My heart was beating so fast when I parked at the airport. I walked into the baggage claim area and stood and waited to see him. Again, I had barely seen what he looked like, and when I did finally see him, I realized that I don’t think we talked about height either.

Y’all 🙈 He was one of the ugliest boys I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry. You can laugh, I give you permission to hate him. If you use the 1-10 scale then I would say he was a 2.

Even though I was a little shocked by his appearance, it was still so incredibly overwhelming to see him walking towards me. His stupid stupid fucking voice in person, I grabbed onto him and we spun around in circles in a tight hug. I was an inch taller than him, and his skinny frame was easy for me to pick up as we hugged.

When I first told my mom about Gio wanting to come visit, i don’t think I need to explain to any of you the joy my mother had on her face. Her daughter finally dating a boy?! It was a dream come true. She said he could stay with us, at our house. “But maybe we should get him a hotel the first few nights in case it doesn’t work out!”

My mother was over the moon, and i couldn’t believe she was telling me it would be okay to let him sleep at our house. I wasn’t allowed to let my girlfriends sleep over, but this random boy I met online can?

I drove him from the airport to the hotel we booked for him. We got all his things together and settled down at the foot of the bed in his room. We still hadn’t kissed yet, and I got this sensation that I should just ‘get it over with’ whether it felt like the right time or not. He was in the middle of talking about something when I suddenly leaned in and pressed my lips against him, his tongue immediately entering my mouth.

It shocked me, making me instantly slap him in the face.

It’s hard remembering my feelings back then (I blocked a lot of it out). I mostly just wanted to see how it was all going to play out. He was already here wasn’t he? So I let him stay, even though I wasn’t feeling what I wanted to feel.

I really don’t remember much after this. The next thing that makes any sense to my brain is 3 days later, he’s sleeping in the guest room of my childhood home and my heart it about to explode out of my chest as I walk downstairs to his door.

He was waiting for me. I asked him to take it out for me. This was my first up close look at a cock outside of porn, and my my, the boy was a 2 earlier but now we’ll make him a 3.

He didn’t last one minute inside me.

‘The seal was broken’ as they say and we did absolutely nothing else except have sex for the rest of the trip. My back was starting to get bedsores from just laying there as he thrusted into me for hours. He actually started to last a lot longer as the days went on, but we went through so many condoms that the trip was only a week in before we ran out.

I’ve never been so entranced. I knew that the mind can be hypnotized, but I never knew that it could happen physically. I couldn’t think, I literally couldn’t move. I would fall in and out of consciousness that i’d come to and he would still be using me.

Like I said, we ran out of condoms, and I told him we couldn’t do it anymore until we got up and went to the store.

But we didn’t go to the store. I would start to roll away and he would use his hands to bring me back. My eyes were half open as I watched him already putting it in me and asking, “Can’t I just feel you?” My mouth couldn’t work. I wanted to say no.

We had made plans to visit a nearby major city, one of the most famous cities in the world. It was my favorite place to go, and I was so excited to show him a city he’d never been. He complained the whole time, telling me how confusing all the streets were. I also wanted to show him some Tegan and Sara as we drove around, and even after telling him they were my favorite band, he told me that he “didn’t think they were anything special.” Asshole.

I remember standing with him, looking out at the ocean and trying to think of the right way to say how I felt. Should I just say it? Should I? Should I? Should I?! *this is a rApe tw*

“Gio….you know you raped me last night? You know that right?”

He looked so confused, “What? You can’t rape your girlfriend?”

Oh the anger and sadness I felt. I still needed to spend acouple more days with him, letting him fuck me as I watched the hours pass. And I don’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t enjoying it most of the time, I was, but after what he said it just changed everything.

I took him back to the airport, and as soon as I got back to my room, I just started bawling my eyes out. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. My bed still smelled like him. We still had food and drinks everywhere from our nights together. I made him leave his deodorant stick behind and I just held it to my nose as I cried myself to sleep.

Three days after he left, I snapped out of it. His lingering physical effect on my body had finally seeped out of me, and my clear head made me realize that I didn’t ever want to talk to or see that boy ever again.

I was working at a diner as a waitress during this time. I had to bring a water bottle with me and always ended up forgetting it when I left for the day. Gio made it a habit to remind me after I got off to bring it with me.

I broke up with him over the phone a week after he got home. He didn’t seem that surprised. The last thing he ever said to me was a text I got as I walked out of the diner to my car, it said, “Don’t forget your water bottle.”

I didn’t reply.

That’s the end of our story babies. I hope it wasn’t too long or sad of a read. Mommy is so glad you stuck out until the end, but it’s time for you to get some sleep. Let me know what you think in the morning 🤭

Goodnight sweethearts 💗

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Colder Weather

Paranormal Preteens AU: Episode Twenty-One

A JSE Fanfic

Welcome to the third season of PNPT—both in the sense of the time of year, and in the sense of an arc of a story. The kids have laid low for a while, but they're still planning to meet up and talk about stuff, just to be sure nothing's happening. But something does happen. JJ gets something strange from their school. Could the Circle or Anti be involved? Read to find out! :D

More of this AU | From the Start

++++++++++++++++++++

Winter break was coming up. A week after the paperpillar incident, the school officially put its Christmas decorations up—though some teachers had their classrooms decorated since the beginning of November. The kids hadn’t had any trouble from the teachers belonging to the Circle. Which was a bit strange. After all, Mrs. Karter went out of her way to confront them. The Circle must have known what they talked about. Maybe the Circle was also waiting. Waiting to see what the kids would do.

Well, the truth was, not much. They’d agreed to lay off the supernatural hunting until after the holidays. And even if they hadn’t, the end of the term was fast approaching, and that meant they had to get through exams before they could finally have their winter holiday. 

“I hate exams,” Chase complained one day at lunch.

“Yes, you have said that a lot,” Schneep muttered. “And I tell you, once the exams are done, they are done. You do not have to worry about them.”

JJ shook his head. It’s the buildup that’s the worst. The anticipation. And then when it’s finally the day, there’s a time limit to complete it. It’s too much pressure.

“Yeah, well, at least you get fucking hundreds all the time,” Marvin said, idly tearing apart his empty milk carton. “Imagine what it’s like for those of us who aren’t actually that smart.”

You’re very smart, Marvin, just not in a school way, JJ said.

Marvin blinked. “Yeah. And... we’re in a school.” He gestured around at the cafeteria. “Where did you think we were? Fucking outer space?”

JJ rolled his eyes. Okay, I get it.

“Stacy, what do you think about exams?” Schneep asked.

Stacy shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I don’t really have strong feelings? Uh... I think I hate homework more, though. At least at school it’s usually quiet. So hard to do my work when Roxy is watching Barbie movies in the next room.”

“Anyway, d’you guys think we can meet up after school today?” Chase asked. “I already asked Jackie, and he said he was free all day. We can go to Zelly’s and talk about... stuff.” He gave them all a meaningful look.

The greenlight and Anti? JJ asked.

“Don’t say it out loud!”

JJ raised an eyebrow. I didn’t.

Chase blinked. Then he burst into laughter. “I-I didn’t even realize—that just slipped right by me!”

JJ also chuckled. Most people in this school don’t know BSL. They won’t realize what I’m saying.

“Pretty helpful!” Marvin said cheerfully. “I’ve asked him to help me with exams before but he’s always denied it.”

Because it would still be obvious what I’m doing, I’m not getting you in trouble for that, JJ said.

“Well, I don’t have anything today, either,” Stacy shrugged. “So yeah. I can go to Zelly’s after school.”

“Chase, should we not study?” Schneep asked. “If you are so concerned about exams, studying will help.”

Chase groaned. “We’ll have plenty of time to study today! We’re not gonna be there until bedtime!” He rolled his eyes, then looked right at Schneep. “And if you’re worried about Mom, she’s not gonna be too bothered about us not studying every day. Even with tests coming up.”

Schneep nodded slowly. “I suppose that is true... she has not been like that...” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Well, if that is the case, we can do so, too.”

JJ frowned. We can’t go directly after school. I have to go to the dean’s office.

“Huh? Why?” Stacy asked. “Did you do something?”

I’m not sure, they just sent a note to my homeroom. I think I’m supposed to pick something up. He sighed.

“Well... be careful.” Chase frowned. “It could be a trap.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna go with him,” Marvin said. “They couldn’t stop me if they tried! And if it does turn out to be something with those Circle guys, I’m prepared.” He drummed his fingers on the table, sending tiny ripples of green light across its surface.

“So... we can go around dinner time, then?” Chase said. “Maybe?”

The others agreed that would work out for all of them. Shortly after, the lunch period ended, and they headed off to their respective classes.

++++++++++++++++++++

JJ’s last class of the day was his Physics class, up on the third floor of the school. It was a long walk down to the first, ground floor where the dean’s office was. Not to mention he had to stop by his locker on the second floor to grab all the textbooks he’d need for homework that night; he never wanted to carry them all around, all day. 

He finished stuffing his bag with the books and turned around, waiting for Marvin to meet him here like they’d planned. He looked one way down the hallway—

And then something flew down the hallway from the other direction and hit the back of his head.

He turned back around, surprised and a bit nervous, and saw a paper airplane at his feet. “Sorry!” a voice shouted, and a boy his age ran up to him. “I wasn’t aiming for you! Guess the design needs some work, haha.”

JJ froze up a little. Oh shit. River Bailey was talking to him.

River was a boy he had a couple classes with, with messy blonde hair and big green eyes. He always wore a brown leather jacket with fur around the collar. Even when strict teachers tried to get him to take it off, he would just put it back on whenever they weren’t looking, like it was a game to see if he could get away with it. Some time last year, JJ realized that he was starting to feel... weird whenever River was around. Like... his face kept getting hot. And he just wanted to stare at him. And he wondered what it would be like to talk to him, really talk to him, outside of school projects, but thinking about that made his stomach jump a little. And then, at the end of last school year, JJ finally had a name for these weird feelings. But he didn’t ever want to say it out loud.

Oh no he’d been quiet for too long. JJ smiled, then reached down and picked up the paper airplane, handing it to River.

“Thanks!” River grinned and took it, examining it. “Yeah, it must be a bit unbalanced.” He looked at JJ. “You’re... Jameson Jackson, right? The quiet kid? With the twin?”

JJ nodded.

“Wicked. Is this your locker?”

JJ nodded again.

“Cool. Mine’s on the corner, there.” River pointed.

It was?! How had he never noticed?!

“See you around!” River smiled and waved, wandering off.

And JJ just stood there, waving back. Wanting to follow after him, but finding his feet rooted to the spot.

Footsteps came up from behind him. “Oooooo.” Marvin appeared at his side as if by magic, grinning. “River talked to you. Congratulations!”

Jameson shoved him. He looked around, slightly panicked, but the hallway was now empty except for the two of them. Don’t say stuff like that! he signed quickly.

Marvin nodded. “Yeah, yeah. D’you know if he knows sign language?”

JJ shook his head. Probably not, to be honest. I’d have to use the notebook.

“Did you?” Marvin asked. “Use the notebook, I mean.”

He shook his head again. There was no time. It was just a passing exchange. That’s all. He looked down at his bag, pretending to zip it up. And I need to get to the dean’s office, remember?

Marvin frowned. “Boo. Fuck the dean’s office. You could’ve had like... an actual conversation. Maybe he’s... you know.”

JJ shook his head again, more fervently than before. He’s probably not. And that’s fine. Now let’s go. He quickly started walking, and Marvin hurried to catch up, falling into place by his side.

A flight of steps and a long hallway later, JJ walked into the dean’s office. The room had glass for walls on two sides, looking out into the school’s front entrance. One of the other walls had windows looking out the front of the school, observing the car park. JJ and Marvin were both very familiar with the layout of the office. The first part was where the receptionist sat, in a big metal desk with an old clunky computer on it. There were a lot of chairs to wait in here, along with a book where you could sign in if you were late to school and missed homeroom roll call. Behind the receptionist desk was another glass wall with an empty doorway in it that led into the dean’s office proper, which was a lot more personally decorated than this front area.

The receptionist—maybe that wasn’t the proper word for the role but neither of the twins knew what the proper word was—looked up as the twins entered. She smiled warmly. A nameplate on her desk identified her as Mrs. Lowe. “Hello there, boys. How can I help you?”

JJ nudged Marvin slightly, and he said, “My brother got a note to see the dean? His name’s Jameson Jackson.” As Marvin spoke, JJ took out said note and passed it to Mrs. Lowe.

“Alrighty, one second.” She took the note, and used the mouse to click something on the computer. “Okay, everything’s set! I’ll go get Mr. Worrall.” And she stood up, going through the empty doorway into the office.

Think it’s worth it to sit down? Marvin asked JJ.

No, hopefully we’re not here too long, JJ said.

Do you think it’s another award thing?

Definitely. That was the only reason he ever went down to the dean’s office. There would be an award ceremony later, but there was always a moment at first when they let him know he won something, maybe passed out a small certificate. They apparently hadn’t contacted Mam and Dad this time, but they didn’t always.

Mrs. Lowe returned with Mr. Worrall, the dean, in tow. “Ah, Mr. Jameson Jackson, always good to see you down here!” he said, clapping his hands together and smiling.

Jameson nodded and smiled back.

“Feels like just yesterday I saw you in here for Excellency in English—or was that Excellency in Maths?” Worrall chuckled in a friendly, but slightly fake-sounding, way. “Well, I’m sure you remember this one. The Royal Choice for winter term. Three years in a row! Very impressive, very impressive. In fact, it’s so impressive, that this year, before the actual assembly, we wanted to give you a little gift. Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

It was then that JJ noticed Mrs. Lowe was holding something. A green gift bag with white tissue paper. She walked over to him and held it out. “Congratulations, Mr. Jackson.”

Well... this was new. Sometimes the awards came with little trophies or medallions. Stuff like that. JJ would think that this was something like that, but the bag was a bit bigger than necessary for a trinket that small. Even so, JJ smiled and took the bag, signing Thank you with his other hand.

“No, thank you, Mr. Jackson, for being such an exemplary student!” Worrell smiled. He knew that sign—but JJ knew from experience that the dean couldn’t follow a full BSL conversation. “Please, carry on. The assembly will be on the nineteenth, at nine o’clock. Please let your parents know.”

The last day before winter holiday. That made sense. JJ nodded again, still smiling, then turned and waved goodbye, heading for the office door with Marvin right behind him. The adults didn’t stop them; apparently they had nothing more to add.

The two of them were quiet until after they left the building. At which point, Marvin started talking. “That was a bit weird. I mean, I’ve never heard of them giving out presents with the award stuff—but then again, I’m not really involved in all that, so I wouldn’t know. But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious?” He leaned closer to JJ. “We know some of the teachers are in with the Circle. And he said the teachers have given you this present. What if it’s—it’s some sort of trap in there?”

JJ considered that. But there’s a chance it could be real, he said. And Mam and Dad would be so upset if they heard that I got some special gift for my academics and we... like, got rid of it or something.

Marvin grumbled. “They don’t have to find out. We could, you know, fucking lie to them?”

Okay, but what if they talk to teachers at the assembly and they ask about how I liked the gift? JJ pointed out. I think we should play it safe. If it turns out to be some Circle thing, we can get rid of it later, and say that we lost it.

“Fiiiiine.” Marvin shook his head. “I think this is a fucking stupid idea, though. What’s in the bag, anyway?”

Let’s wait until we get home, JJ said.

“You can fake your first reaction for Mam and Dad, yknow.”

Well, also it’s cold and I don’t want to waste any more time out here, JJ said, hurrying over to the school bike rack.

“Okay, that’s fair.” Marvin followed him, and the two of them unlocked their bike chains and quickly pedaled off down the street, hoping to get home quickly.

++++++++++++++++++++

Mam was in the kitchen when the twins got home, talking with Granmam. But she immediately stopped once she saw them come in. “Hello boys!” she said, smiling. “Was the ride home from school okay? Oh, what d’you have t’ere, Jameson?”

JJ had put the gift bag into his school bag for the bike ride, but stopped outside to take it out again. He set it down on the kitchen table. I got another Royal Choice award for the term, he said. And the dean said the teachers wanted to give me a gift for getting it every term three years straight.

“Oh!” Mam’s eyes lit up. “Well, take it into the living room, we can open it up t’ere!” She hurried out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. “Rob! The school gave Jameson...” Her voice faded away as she climbed up them.

“Congrats, lad,” Granmam said, giving him a small smile. She was holding a mug in her hand, which she took a sip from. “Either of you want tea? I jus’ made a kettle.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Marvin said. “Thanks, Granmam.”

Same. JJ nodded.

“Very well.” She took another sip. “Well, let’s see what all t’is nonsense is about, t’en. To the livin’ room.”

The whole family crowded into the living room. “Here, sit on the sofa, Jameson,” Dad said, angling him perfectly. Mam was fiddling with the camera, getting it set up. Meanwhile, Granmam sat in the armchair in the corner, frowning while the parents couldn’t see her, and Marvin was sitting on the floor, using a cat toy to play with their kitten, Sinney. Her big green eyes followed the end of the string diligently, but she wasn’t quite coordinated enough to catch it yet.

JJ sat down on the sofa, watching all this, trying not to squirm. “Alright, go on, show what it is,” Mam said encouragingly. He nodded and opened up the gift bag, pulling out the tissue paper until he could see what was inside. What... was it? He’d been expecting something like a congratulatory T-shirt, or maybe some sort of water bottle. This was... weird. He reached inside and pulled out some sort of toy. A doll, made of soft fabric and cotton. It wore a smaller version of the school uniform, and had brown yarn hair and black button eyes. He held it in both hands and squeezed the torso until his fingers touched, going all the way around. There was a tag around the arm that read “Congratulations! Hollewych Secondary School is happy to have you!”

Marvin looked up, seeing it. “What the fuck is that?”

“Language, Marvin,” Dad said idly.

JJ turned the doll around and held it up for the rest of the room to see.

“Whaaaat the fuuuuck?” Marvin said, eyes going wide.

Granmam raised an eyebrow. “Bejesus. T’at’s an odd t’ing to give your student, isn’ it?”

“Oh, but I t’ink it’s cute!” Mam said, sounding delighted. “Here, Jameson, smile for the camera.”

JJ did so, smiling while she took a couple pictures. As soon as she was done, he turned it around, looking at it again. Studying it. Yeah... this was weird. This was very weird. And a bit creepy. He didn’t like the dead stare of the button eyes. He shivered, then quickly put the doll down, deciding to change the subject. The dean said they’d give me the certificate at an assembly on the nineteenth, at nine o’clock.

“Oh good! I can put in a vacation day request,” Dad said. Behind him, Marvin rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be right t’ere, cheering you on!” Mam added cheerfully.

Marvin groaned slightly. Granmam glanced at him, then cleared her throat. “Well, take yer mans up to your bedroom, t’en, Jems. Put it somewhere... safe.”

JJ nodded, standing up. Oh, before he forgot. Mam, Dad, some friends invited us out to dinner. Can we go?

“With exams coming up?” Mam frowned.

“Come on, Em, he’s clearly been working hard enough,” Dad said. “You can go, Jameson, don’t worry. But remember when bedtime is. You need to be home before that, so call us well before then. To account for driving times.”

JJ nodded again. He picked up the doll and looked over at Marvin, jerking his head back to the hallway. Marvin carefully moved Sinney off his leg and stood up, and the two of them headed upstairs to their bedroom.

Marvin closed the door as soon as they were inside. “Okay, but we can agree that thing’s fucking weird, right?” He pointed at the doll. “Who the fuck gives something like that as an award for—for whatever the fuck you did?”

JJ tossed the doll into the corner, where it disappeared behind a pile of dirty clothes. It’s creepy.

“Huh? I mean, I guess? I don’t really see it, but if you do, sure. It’s more like—like why the fuck would you do that? That’s such a weird thing to give you. It feels... personal.”

It does. JJ shuddered. Perhaps that was partly why the doll was creeping him out. So... do you think it might be from the Circle after all, then?

“Oh, for sure. I’m not sure why, but it definitely is.” Marvin glared into the corner. “Maybe it’s supposed to spy on us or something. Throw it out the window.”

We can’t do that, JJ said. You know Mam and Dad will ask about it for a while. They might even want to put it in the living room or something.

“Fuck them! Come on, JJ, say it with me.” Marvin began chanting it. “Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck—”

JJ laughed. He shook his head. Stop it, they might hear you.

“They’re downstairs, they can’t hear shit.”

Okay, but seriously, we can’t get rid of it yet, JJ said. We should at least tell the others and get their advice.

“Hmm... yeah, we shouldn’t leave them out of it,” Marvin agreed. “Let’s get changed and get ready. Sounds like Dad wants to drive us there.”

The twins quickly changed out of their school uniforms and into more casual clothes. Then they hung around their room for a while before it was time to go. JJ tried to concentrate on the book he was reading... but somehow, he kept finding his attention drawn to the corner where the doll was. It felt like he waited forever before it was finally time to leave for Zelly’s.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Ah man, everyone else is here.” Chase plopped down into one of the last seats at the table. “I thought we’d be early.”

“Dad dropped us off so we got here faster than we usually do,” Marvin said. “Which like, just makes me want a car. To get places fast. But I do like biking, but it takes so long, y’know?”

“Takes longer in other places,” Jackie said, taking a drink from his glass of water. “We’re really lucky that we can walk to a lot of places.”

Schneep sat down next to Chase and picked up the menu. “Did you all order the orders yet?”

Stacy giggled. “Order the orders.”

“What? It is correct in grammar.”

“No, it is, it’s just funny to hear. Anyway, we didn’t, we told the waiter we were waiting for you.” She giggled again. “Told the waiter we’re waiting.”

Schneep frowned. “English can be strange. But I suppose German can also be strange.”

“So.” Chase folded his arms on the table. “Have any of you guys seen anything weird? Uh, especially, like... Has Anti shown up to any of you guys?”

The group all shook their heads in unison. Not since he knocked out Mrs. Karter and said that stuff about challenging us, JJ said.

“Which was so strange,” Stacy muttered. “This is all like... a game to him.”

“And it’s not to us?” Jackie said. “To you guys?”

“I got pushed down the stairs,” Marvin emphasized. “That’s not a game! That’s—that’s child endangerment!”

Jackie burst into laughter. “God, you’re right, actually.” He coughed, and stopped laughing, becoming serious again. “I’ve been looking more into Jack McLoughlin. I still don’t know where he is or where his family moved to, but Ram’s dad told me something strange when I was over at their house for a game. Apparently the McLoughlins moved really suddenly. Ram’s dad worked with Mr. McLoughlin, and he didn’t tell anyone at his work that the family was moving. Not even his bosses. He just didn’t show up one day, and when the work called him, he quit over the phone.”

“Maybe he simply hated his job?” Schneep asked.

“Maybe. But I’m just saying, that’s not how it usually works. And I don’t think the kids at school knew Jack would be going away until right before he did. He wasn’t really talking about it, y’know?”

Chase frowned. “Weird. I remember Mom and Dad talked about the move for a long time before we moved here. I told all my friends at school, and packing up the boxes took a while, and like... there was stuff with the mail, I think?”

“Moving is a whole process, especially if you’re moving countries,” Jackie agreed. “It’s strange that they just kinda... disappeared one day.”

Maybe they had a reason they had to get out of town fast, JJ said.

“Like Anti,” Stacy added in a quieter voice.

“Like Anti,” Jackie said, nodding.

“Ah... this is not too important to the matter,” Schneep said slowly. “But... what do you mean by ‘a game’? Were you playing sports at your friend’s house?”

Jackie laughed. “I mean, I’d be down to, if my friends wanted to. But nah. We usually meet up at Ram’s house for... uh...” He paused. “Have... you guys heard of Caverns and Creatures?”

“That nerd game where you pretend to have magic?” Marvin asked. Unconsciously, Chase, Stacy, and Schneep all glanced at the cape Marvin was wearing before looking away.

“Yeah, the nerd game where you pretend to have magic. I mean, my character doesn’t have magic, but others do—anyway. We, uh... do that. There. Ram’s good at running campaigns.”

“Campaigns?” Schneep asked.

“That’s what you call a C&C game,” Jackie explained. “It’s a whole thing. If you guys ever want to learn more about it I’d be happy to show you guys.” His eyes lit up as he said that. “I love to get people into it, and I’d love to try CMing sometime—Uh, I mean. If you guys don’t think it’s weird.” Jackie coughed, suddenly looking awkward.

“Uh... I’m not... usually into magic and stuff, but... if you’re interested, maybe?” Chase said reluctantly. He hoped that nobody at school would hear about that. But—no, he shouldn’t care about that. It’d be something fun with his friends. Still... playing a game like that was a step far into the dorky crowd. He wasn’t a dork... or at least not that much of a dork.

We can talk more about it later, JJ said. For now, me and Marvin have something to tell you.

“Yeah.” Marvin nodded, backing him up.

The others all instantly sat up straight, all their attention on the twins. “Did something happen?” Jackie asked. “More stuff about the Circle?”

“Well we think so, but I guess we can’t really be sure, it could just be something weird that happened,” Marvin said. “But I mean everything weird has been connected to greenlight or the Circle in some way in this town so I think it has to be connected too. So you all know how JJ had to go to the dean’s office after school? It was cause they had to tell him he got some award or something. And the dean was like ‘because you’ve won this award so much for the last couple years we’re giving you an extra present’ which I guess makes sense, but when we got home and JJ opened up the bag it was this weird doll thing. Like, a plush doll with button eyes. It was so weird.”

It looked creepy, JJ added.

“I can imagine,” Jackie muttered. “But... yeah, that’s very not-normal. I’ve never even heard of that happening.”

“I got an award last year for my art project, I didn’t get a present with it,” Stacy said.

Schneep shook his head. “That is not a thing in Germany, either. You may get a little sticker or something, maybe a medal, but not a toy. Very strange.”

“I dunno much about all that school award stuff, but that sounds freaky,” Chase said. “So, you think the Circle made that happen somehow?”

JJ nodded. We know that some of the teachers are involved. They could’ve pulled some strings to make it happen.

“I bet it’s some sort of fucking... spy thing,” Marvin said. “To make sure we’re staying out of their way like Mrs. Karter told us to. We gotta get rid of it, right?”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Stacy shrugged. “Is that why you brought it?”

The twins both looked at her, identical expressions on their faces. Mostly confusion... with a bit of fear. “Wh-what do you mean?” Marvin asked.

Stacy pointed at JJ’s bag. “Your shoulder bag is kinda unzipped and I can see something that looks all soft and plushy in there. Is that it?”

JJ looked down at his bag. His face drained of color, and he slowly reached down into the bag—oh so slowly, like he was waiting for someone to stop him. But nobody did. He grabbed something, pulling it out through the gap where the zipper is undone. It was a doll, with brown yarn hair and blue button eyes, wearing a tiny blue jacket and black pants. He gasped in surprise upon seeing it, dropping it on the table.

Marvin frowned. “When did you grab the doll? I didn’t see you do that.”

I didn’t. JJ’s signs were shaky. I know I left it at home.

The other kids stared at the doll on the table. “...Jameson,” Schneep said quietly. “Is it... supposed to look like you?”

“Oh. Oh my god, yeah, i-it’s wearing the same outfit you are!” Jackie gasped. “And the brown hair and blue eyes—”

“Wait a second, I don’t think it had blue eyes before!” Marvin protested.

It didn’t. JJ shook his head. And it was wearing different clothes.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?” Marvin said under his breath. “Okay, I’m with you now. This is creepy. And it’s definitely some greenlight shit. We have to get rid of it.”

“How do we do that?” Chase asked.

“It’s fucking fabric and cotton, just tear it apart!”

“Noooo nonono, I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jackie said hurriedly. “You guys know about voodoo dolls, right?”

“Hmm?” Schneep blinked. “No, what is that?”

“You know about so much, but you’ve never heard of a voodoo doll?” Chase asked.

“I do not know everything, Chase.”

“It’s fine,” Jackie said. “Uh, basically, a voodoo doll is like—well I think it’s based on a real thing in real life, there’s like a religion in America called hoodoo, I think? I don’t know much about that, though. But in pop culture and shit, a voodoo doll is a doll that’s meant to look like someone, and whatever you do to the doll happens to the person. Like, if you stick a pin in its stomach, the person will feel a sharp pain in their stomach. Or if you hold it underwater the person will have trouble breathing. This doll might be sorta like that.”

JJ was now as white as a ghost. Do you think that’ll happen to me?!

“I don’t know! I-I never thought they’d exist in real life—I mean, like I said, the idea of them in pop culture is probably based on something real but I bet it’s really exaggerated—but other than that, I didn’t think they would—they would—you get what I’m saying, right?” Jackie looked around at the others.

“There’s definitely something weird about how it looks more like JJ,” Marvin muttered.

“But if the doll is like how Jackie described, we should not destroy it, should we?” Schneep fretted. “I do not want JJ to get hurt.”

“He’s not going to get hurt,” Jackie said, looking like he regretted bringing up the possibility. “Here, JJ, just give it to me. I’ll hang onto it. Paul can use it to climb on.” That was what he named the paperpillar after it had shrunk down.

JJ quickly handed the doll over. How is the paper caterpillar, by the way?

“Good, it’s good.” Jackie put the doll in his backpack. “He acts more like a toy than a real animal, I think. One of those robot ones. Doesn’t need to eat anything other than paper, and likes wandering around or ‘sleeping’ sometimes. I’m trying to figure out how to buy a terrarium or something without Dad asking me about it.” He looked around at the others. “Anyone else have anything they wanna report?”

The group all muttered various ‘no’s.

“Great, so we can get food and chill, then,” Stacy said, picking up the menu. “I didn’t know they did actual food, either.”

“I think it’s a new thing,” Chase said. “But last time Schneep and I were here, we got the chicken fingers, they were really good.”

“I want to get that again,” Schneep said. “And I want to hear more about this Cavernous Creatures game Jackie mentioned.”

Jackie laughed a little. “Caverns and Creatures. I think it’s really fun! I mean, I wasn’t too keen on getting into at first, but Sly dragged me into the group he had with Ram, Mincy, and Celine, just for a oneshot, and I really liked it. It can be a bit complicated, though.”

“Isn’t there, like... maths?” Chase asked, making a face.

“It’s just addition and subtraction. But all the numbers could really put people off, I get it.” Jackie grinned. “But it’s mostly very creative. Like writing a story together. Each person makes a character, and they fill out details about the character on a sheet, and that’s where they can also write down the spells and treasure the characters get over the course of an adventure. Then the Cavern Master runs the game, giving you scenarios that you can work through! It’s like—like if any of you have ever played those old text games on computers—”

“Oh, I know those games!” Stacy gasped. “I love those games! And the ones where you click on stuff and do puzzles, too!”

“So... it’s like a video game... but it’s all in your brain?” Chase asked, tilting his head to the side as he considered this.

“Well there’s a board,” Jackie said. “And little pieces you can move around—but the pieces are usually pretty expensive so Ram just uses anything they have around the house.” He laughs.”But yeah! Kinda like a video game in your brain.”

“Oooo.” That did sound more fun than Chase thought. There would still be math, but he could put up with math if the rest was fun. “Okay, I’m kinda wondering about it too, now.”

“What about you two?” Schneep looked at the twins. “Are you interested?”

Marvin scoffed. “How dare you assume that I... would not be interested in a game where you can cast magic spells. Do you even know me?”

JJ chuckled a little. Marvin’s always been curious, but we’ve never known enough people to try it out in a group.

“Yeah, and you have too, don’t lie,” Marvin said, bumping his shoulder against JJ’s.

A little bit, JJ said slowly. Marvin rolled his eyes.

“Well, if all of you guys are curious I could... maybe... ask Ram to borrow some of their CM stuff,” Jackie said slowly, trying not to look too excited. “And we could hang out and try it out.”

As talk moved on, JJ slowly started to relax. The doll changing had really freaked him out. But it was fine now. Jackie could keep it, and they could figure out if they could get rid of it later. Everything was fine.

++++++++++++++++++++

When JJ and Marvin got home from dinner with their friends, their dad sent them straight upstairs to get ready for bed. Even if bedtime wasn’t actually for a couple more hours, he wanted them to be ready. Marvin groaned and complained but did it anyway. JJ did it without the groaning and complaining.

The two of them spent the last couple hours before bedtime hanging out with Granmam, all of them watching Sinney play in the living room. The time passed surprisingly quickly, and soon, it was 9:00 and time for bed. “You two are old enough t’get at least another hour,” Granmam complained. “But no arguin’ wit’ your parents, I s’pose. G’night, lads.”

They headed up the stairs—Jameson was sometimes nervous around them, ever since their birthday, he couldn’t know how Marvin could handle it—and into the room. “I’m gonna be tossing and turning,” Marvin muttered, heading straight for the bunk bed ladder. “Too fucking early.”

JJ shrugged. Good night, anyway. He turned off the overhead light and walked over to the bunk bed... and noticed something. A shape on his pillow. He couldn’t really make it out in the darkness, but he knew it wasn’t there earlier. Confused, he walked back over to the light switch, flipped it on, and hesitantly looked again—

It was the doll.

JJ let out a little shriek and backed up.

“Jameson?!” Marvin leaned over the side of the bunk, knowing that something really serious must’ve happened if JJ screamed. “What is it?! Are you okay?!”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto the doll... which was now wearing smaller copies of his pajamas. Slowly, he walked forward and grabbed the doll, holding it by its arm and as far from his body as possible. He held it up for Marvin to see.

“What the—” Marvin started to yell, then quickly corrected himself to a whisper-shout. “...what the fuck?!”

JJ shook his head, speechless. It was definitely the same doll. Either that, or someone had broken into their house to put an identical doll in a different outfit on his bed. He wasn’t sure which option was creepier.

“Throw it out the window!” Marvin hissed.

JJ didn’t argue. He ran over to the window, threw it open, and dropped the doll into the bushes below. Then he spun back to face Marvin. We have to tell the others!

“Gimme the phone, I’ll call them.”

The phone was on their dresser. JJ grabbed it and handed it to Marvin. Then he paced back and forth while Marvin tried to call their friends one by one.

“Ugh, no use,” Marvin finally said. “None of them are answering.”

Text them, then, JJ said. They’ll see it in the morning.

“You’re a faster texter, you do it.”

JJ took the offered phone and quickly typed out a message, sending it to all of their friends. The doll is back. It showed up on my bed despite Jackie taking it. I threw it out the window but it might do something like that again. Me and Marvin are gonna try to sleep now but call as soon as you see this no matter the time. He didn’t want to put the phone back on the dresser so he instead set it on the floor next to his bed. So he could lean over and grab it if he heard anything happen.

“Do we just fucking go to sleep now?!” Marvin asked, staring at the window.

I guess we try to?? JJ said.

“I... I guess? I don’t... know what else we can do...” Marvin trailed off. “Do you, um, think Mam and Dad would get upset if we left the lights on?”

JJ nodded sadly. You know how they are about the bills.

“Yeah... But is it worth it to keep them on anyway?”

JJ shook his head. I don’t think so.

Marvin was quiet for a while. “Well... if you don’t think so, we won’t do it. But... fucking hell.”

Yeah. That was the best way he could put it.

They turned off the lights and each climbed under their blankets. But JJ knew Marvin would still have his eyes open, looking towards the window. He knew it because he was doing the same thing.

The night was silent. But even so, it took them both a long time to fall asleep.