#somethin about freak just hits right

[wolviensabes]

Soft.

RQ: '(hii, I saw that your requests were open) It's no doubt he's an absolute FREAK in the sheets, but what if he were to show his softer side hidden within? Preferably comfort sex w/ reader after a long, stressful day if you will. And maybe some banter too??' - @graveyardgrrrrrl

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. F!reader, fingering, oral reader receiving, PiV, unedited.

A/N: This hit me because my hormones have been all over the place lately. So I can relate. I hope you like it <3

WC: 2.0k

The day you had was dreary, you haven't felt so exhausted and tired in a long time. You trudged through your bedroom and practically fell onto the bed, groaning to yourself. The past few days have felt like a waste of time, you hadn't done anything in your free time, you felt like you had no interest in any of the things you enjoyed doing. You felt lazy and like you haven't really accomplished anything, and it ate away at you. You didn't know why you got like this, it was frustrating and annoying to you that you couldn't just make yourself do something. But a simple chore like cleaning up felt so heavy.

Logan knocked once before coming into the room, you both shared a bedroom but he still would give a single knock to announce himself before barging in. He shut the door and eyed you on the bed, his gaze narrowed slightly as he saw how defeated you appeared to be. "What's got ya frustrated, princess..." he walked over, fiddling with his large belt and pulling it out of the belt loops smoothly. If you weren't so upset, that would've been insanely hot.

You rolled onto your side facing away from him and exhaled. "I just don't feel good..." you muttered quietly. "I feel like everything lately has been so stressful, I have little energy, and the smallest things feel so overwhelming." You weren't sure how he'd react to this, but you hoped he'd understand, or at least sit with you and help you relax.

"Ah, you just need a little relief...I can help ya..." Logan's hand caressed your leg and as much as you adored his touch, there was just something about it today that made you not want it. Your thoughts went to the usual rough sex, which was something you had always loved before. But today was just...not the day for it. He sensed your hesitation and his hand stopped its slow travel over the curve of your hip.

"I get it. You're not feelin' up for it...how about I help you relax a little differently. I can see you're not in the mood for me." He moved his hand to your lower back and gently rubbed it. You sighed, feeling the sore, tense muscles slowly unwind. His hand worked slow and steady, moving across your hips and his thumbs kneaded the muscles around your tailbone.

You wanted more of his touch, you just didn't feel like being bent in half right now. Logan was a rough guy, and you knew getting into it would mean you'd have to give into the performance. You just didn't have that energy...

"I want to, Logan I just...don't feel good today." You reply defeatedly, your voice muffled a bit into the pillow. Logan's hand moved over to your front and he pulled you against him, your back colliding with his muscular chest.

"I ain't gonna force you. But I can try somethin' else if you want." He spoke slightly softer to you, he moved himself over you and he leaned his nose down, nudging your head and gaining access to your neck. "Just let me try...you'll like it."

It was hard to deny him, besides, he had been patient. You scratched his head, tugging slightly on his tufts. "Fine, fine...just...not hard."

"Don't worry about that...I'll be patient." He kissed your neck slowly, his teeth gave gentle nips instead of biting. "Relax for me...I'll make you feel good." His hands gently moved down your body, undressing you and getting you bare besides your panties. He leaned down and began leaving a trail of kisses from your sternum down to your belly. He got to your panties and he chuckled, "Aren't these the ones I ripped off?" He asked with am amused, smug smirk.

You, in turn, rolled your eyes. "Yes...god. I bought them again! They were my favorite pair! And you tore them off like you were a crazed man."

"I was crazed that day. You were drivin' me nuts, sweet girl. But you like me like that, 'bout had me drooling over you when I cut them off." He smirked, his finger hooking under the band of fabric and teasingly pulling.

Damn him.

"You can take a damn breath, I won't rip these ones off. If they mean so much to you." Logan teased further and slowly tugged them down your legs. "You and your expensive fuckin' panties. I've seen how much these damn things are." He tossed them behind him and crawled between your legs. "Open up for me...that's a good girl." He kissed your knee and leaned closer to your core.

"I gotcha." He slowly let his fingers tease you, waiting to see if you'd object before he pushed one inside. "Already squeezin' me tight..." His scruff tickled your inner thigh as he watched your pussy swallow his finger with each pump he gave. You held back a soft moan, it felt nice...not too overwhelming, not rough.

His lips wrapped around one of your nipples and he teased it with his tongue, making you whine and grab his hair instinctively. He was doing what he could to keep his movements slow, and he was surprisingly much gentler than you were used to. He never hurt you before, but he's one to get swept up in the lustful passion rather than take his time to really feel and enjoy. That didn't mean he was a bad lover, by any means. He was the only man to ever get you to the finish line, and he made sure of it.

"Feels good," you whispered to him, "Add another," your hips gently lifted into his finger and he immediately put another one inside. The second finger made you moan again, and you felt them find your sweet, spongy spot right away. Like they were drawn to it upon being inside you, and he curled them in a slow upwards motion.

You whined below him, his mouth changed to your other nipple, not wanting to leave it out. He suckled gently and nipped along your breasts while he fingered you before he pulled his fingers out and trailed gentle pecks to your pussy. You felt fuzzy, but in a good way, it felt so good and you laid there and let him take care of you.

His lips connected to your folds and he slowly licked over them, his tongue trailing from your wet entrance up to that precious bud. He suckled on it lightly and listened to those sweet sounds you made. Your hips squirmed as he stimulated your clit, his hands held you firm but not in an overwhelming or rough way like usual. His thumb tapped your hip, telling you to stay still for him.

"Can't...it feels too good," you whined, "You know if it feels too much I can't sit still," your eyes looked down at him and you gently tugged on his hair, trying to get him to come off you. Reluctantly, he did so, strings of saliva keeping him connected to your cunt for several seconds before they broke off.

"Alright, alright sweet girl...ya can't handle too much right now huh?" He moved off and he pulled his top and jeans off, you watched as his abdominal muscles flexed and relaxed, completely unashamed that you were staring. He crawled over you again, his cock heavy and erect. He sat up a little, holding one of your legs as he guided himself to rub on you. His cock moving up and down between your folds and getting slicked up for an easy penetration.

You whined, each time his head poked your clit it made you shiver. Precum oozed out of him, coating your sweet bud in a hot fluid. Your breath had picked up, and he put his hand on your belly. "I'll be easy. I don't wanna ruin you." He leaned forward, his cock head pressed against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself inside, your cock pressing into you further and further until he was hilted.

You held back a soft hiss, it always stung a little, he was thick and even when he was slow, your pussy had to stretch a bit. "Ahh...fuck, Logan..." you whined, fisting the sheets by your body. He paused, looking at you as you got used to his size. The burn of being stretched so much was fading, you felt so full when he was inside you, you loved the feeling after all the discomfort was gone.

You braced for him to thrust hard and fast, but he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, steady and controlled. He held your legs open, watching your wet pussy take him, your creamy arousal making his pubic hair sticky as it dripped down his balls. "Good girl...just like that. You're doing good," Logan let out a shaky breath, his hips stayed moving at the controlled speed so you could really feel every little detail of his dick.

The veins on the sides, the shape of his head, how your walls adjusted and squeezed him to memorize all those little things...

You whined, it felt incredible, like electricity shooting through your body with each gentle thrust. His head kisses your cervix each time, precum leaking out in thick beads, gifting your velvet walls more lubricant and fluid. Logan leaned over you a bit, his hands holding your hips once again and he kissed you, his lips moving against yours sensually while he thrusted into you.

He picked up some speed, you let out a soft cry and your hands came to his shoulders. His cock moving a bit faster felt amazing, you found yourself needing more after him being so slow. You wrapped your legs around his hips and he leaned over your body even more, angling himself a bit deeper. His cock moved in and out against all the right spots, sending shooting waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel it fogging your mind as you grew closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Logan, oh god...I'm so close, just...a little more..." You managed, your breathing was a bit heavy and you kept making sweet moans and gentle cries for him, unable to stop yourself. He nodded with you, his arms wrapping around you in a big hug as he pulled you up. He fell onto his ass, you now in his lap as he ground you against him, his pubic hair rubbing your clit so damn good.

You let out a louder cry, your bodies rubbing against one another while his cock pulsed and throbbed inside your comforting walls, squeezing and milking him desperately, needing him to fill you up. As stressed as you were today, this was such a good way to relieve it. Feeling him hold you, his cock stretching you out, his hot breath on your neck.

"M'close, sweetheart, gonna fill you up good..." Logan groaned against your skin, his arms tightly wrapped around your midsection as his hips desperately jut upward. You whined, your clit being assaulted by his pubic hair and it was enough to make you cum on his dick, squeezing him just enough to send him over shortly after you. He let out a deep, guttural moan and he snapped his hips up, rolling you on him as he came inside you.

His cum shot deep into your womb and drooled out of you, coating his dick and balls, staining the sheets where he was sitting. "Nngh, fuck," Logan groaned, finally stopping the movement. He held you tight and close to him, breathing heavily with you. You were completely out of it, it felt like all the awful stress you had felt was gone, and you could immerse in all of him. His body, his touch, his scent. Logan made it better.

"Let's get ya cleaned up now...stained the damn sheets enough, you're gonna leak out when I pull out." Logan grunted with a smirk, "How do you feel now, princess..." He glanced at you, his rough hand rubbed your cheek, admiring your disheveled appearance.

"Good...I...good...." you slurred, holding onto him tighter. "Five more minutes...don't pull out yet..." You whined, your voice soft and desperate. Logan was a little taken aback, but he knew you had been having a hard time so who was he to deny you something so simple as a few more minutes of this?

"Alright, alright...five more minutes..."

Thanks for reading.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[reidsworld]

giving old man!logan head in the limo has me feral. i just know theres a dirty mouth on that man

Warnings… fem!reader, smuttt, praise/degradation, oral sex (m receiving), no use of y/n, pet names (baby, slut), this is VILEE (rlly channeled my inner freak), not proofread lol (icl i wrote this on my phone). — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!!

Mars speaks… old man logan has me in a CHOKEHOLDD

Masterlist | Divider from @/saradika-graphics

You had been teasing Logan all night, testing the limits of his patience with every sly smile, every light touch, every whispered innuendo in his ear. The tension had built between you like a fire ready to ignite, and you knew exactly what you were doing.

Logan’s gaze was dark, his jaw clenched as he shifted in his seat beside you. Finally, with a low, frustrated growl, he turned to you, his eyes blazing. “Fine,” he muttered, voice rough, low, “you wanna act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one.”

That was how you ended up in the back of his limo, sliding down between his legs, your mouth leaving a trail of kisses along his chest, moving lower…

His voice was a rasp, barely more than a breath as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Your trailed your hands over the bulge in his pants, making swift work of pulling them down with his boxers, freeing his achingly hard cock.

While it wasn’t overly long— certainly not a length to be ashamed about— it was thick. His cock had a long vein running down the underside with many smaller veins scattered across it. It twitched desperately in his lap, the sensitive red tip oozing pre-cum.

“Holy shit…”

He let out a low chuckle at your words, clicking his tongue at you, “come on, get to work baby.”

You grinned up at him as you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the tip, making him nearly growl.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ tease.”

Giggling at his words you smile innocently as run your tongue along the slit of his cock. He threw his head back, groaning, his fingers threading themselves through your hair with a tight but gentle grip.

You sunk your head lower, the head disappearing between your lips. He gazed down at you, “look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock like that.”

Your tongue swirled around his cock, cheeks hollowing, and his grip on your hair tightened, “don’t be shy, I know you can handle more.”

He used the grip in your hair to push you down lower. Saliva began to drip down his cock as he filled your mouth. You used it as lube for your hands which found their way to his shaft, slowly stroking and twisting what was not in your mouth.

“Yeah that’s more like it, knew you could do it.”

You moaned around him in response, the vibrations shooting right through his cock, causing his hips to buck. The tip hit the back of your throat making you gag and slightly choke at the protrusion. But this didn’t make him pull back, he was too desperate he couldn’t stop.

“Y’okay, baby?” he asked, slowing the rate his hand was moving your head but not stopping. You tried your best to give a nod. Once he got your confirmation, he stopped his hand movement, gently thrusting his hips upwards into your throat.

He had let you have control for long enough and now he was getting desperate, he couldn’t wait. He gently tapped on the top of your head causing you to look up at him.

“M’gonna fuck your throat now, baby,” he told you and you nodded, your hands moving to grip his thighs. He used his hand to push your head lower before thrusting up into your mouth. He began to build a steady rhythm, his cock going deeper into your throat with each movement.

“So good, haven’t gotten somethin’ this good in a long time ‘nd definitely not from someone as pretty as you,” he praised, his Canadian accent thickening as his pace increased. You moaned at the praise, breathing through your nose as he pushed in further.

Your knees began to ache from being on the limo floor. As he set a brutal pace, it became messier and messier. His cock was now covered in saliva, you makeup was a mess from the small tears that fell each time he hit the back of your throat.

“Y’look so pretty like this, my little slut,” he grunted out as his thumb moved to wipe one of the tears that fell. You smiled around him and looked him in the eyes. His head fell back at the sight around him.

After a few minutes, you could tell by his demeanour and ever-so-slightly slowing pace that he was getting tired. you moved your hands up to his while looking at him in the eyes. You gave him a gentle nod. His grip loosened from your head before he laid further back against the seat, long arms stretching out.

“Just need a little break, you keep going,” he chuckled, muttering something about being old.

You held onto the sides of his thighs as you quickly bobbed your head up and down his cock. You looked up at him, moaning at the sight. He looked so good— head fallen back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, letting out little breaths.

This only spurred you on, taking him as deep as possible over and over again. His cock twitched at the back of your throat, a sure sign that he was getting close. You moved one hand to fondle his balls. You gently massaged them, scratching at his scrotum.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” he breathed out.

You picked up your pace as you felt his balls tighten in your hand. His thighs flexed and his hips bucked as he let out a lewd groan— almost growl of your name. Feeling his hot cum fill your throat, you pressed your head down, nose touching the hair at the base of his cock.

As he came down from his high, you pulled off him and looked up. He looked down at you with a lazy smirk on his face. He reached out his hand, helping you up from the floor before pulling you onto his lap.

His thumb wiped the half-dried tears from your face, his other hand snaking behind your neck and threading into your hair to pull you into a passionate kiss, his beard scratching at your chin.

As the two of you pulled apart, you grinned at him, “think you still have it in you to fuck me, old man?”

Mars speaks… (again) sorry if this is a bit of a mess, it’s like 1:30 in the morning rn and i wrote this instead of sleeping. any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[tvhsleb3ww]

FOURTH TIME'S A CHARM! - MIYA ATSUMU

summary miya atsumu had lost hope on finding the one for him after multiple failed relationships before you came along

swearing, suggestive (mentions of getting laid), flirting, light punching(does that count as violent?), pure fluff honestly, some twins bickering

his first girlfriend was when he was 13. he had just gotten popular for being the best setter in the district. surely, many girls had gone up to him and tried to befriend him. he wouldn't deny the attention because we all know miya atsumu loves attention. especially from cute girls his age.

the relationship wasn't long, probably around 3 weeks or so. it was the first time tsumu had broken his piggy bank with his dad's hammer to take out some cash and use them to buy his girlfriend some chocolate.

it ended when tsumu hit puberty and had a terrible break out. the girl was probably freaked and it was the first time tsumu cried over a girl. they never even had the chance to kiss like he had imagined!

the second girlfriend was when he was in his third year of highschool. it was a much more serious relationship and he developed strong feelings for the girl. it was the first time tsumu went on multiple dates and had a girl over.

despite that, he got dumped once again after high school ended and his said girlfriend is going overseas for her studies.

things started to heat up a bit as he reached his early twenties. due to his rising fame from the volleyball industry and his incredibly good looks, women especially models, are interested in him.

likewise, he's not one to deny attention and affection from hot ladies. oh, he loves it.

starting from there, he had a couple flings and hook ups. he even got popular with the supermodel ladies for being amazing in bed. although, he was never one to try and find a relationship.

that changed after he met a girl at a club. he was one hundred percent sure that she was the one. the way she was hitting on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. his breath hitches everytime they interacted and thus it was his first real relationship in a long while.

it lasted for six months or so after he got dumped for a CEO bastard. he then started to think maybe he was never meant to find his other half. maybe he was gonna die alone.

that thought had him awake at night and as much as he is scared of that predicament, he can't really do anything to change it. he just accepted his fate right then and there.

and it all changed when he locked eyes with you.

it was official. osamu had opened his restaurant for approximately two years now! to celebrate this achievement, he had decided to close the store for a day to throw a small party to celebrate.

of course, all his family and friends were invited. atsumu's volleyball team, his friends from high school, his relatives, everyone!

"samu! congrats man!"

tsumu exclaims with a bright smile as he pulls his twin brother into a hug. osamu quickly hugs him back before giving him a punch on the shoulder, making atsumu yelp.

"ey! the hell was that for, ya twerp!?"

he pouted at his brother as osamu just chuckled. osamu crossed his arms over his broad chest, a gentle smile on his face as he watches his twin brother being dramatic as usual.

"that's for bein' late, ya asshat. yer team already started eatin' ages ago"

osamu rolled his eyes as atsumu just chuckles.

"i had somethin' to take care of"

"oh shut yer mouth, i know you've been sleepin' and forgot"

"ey!"

their interaction went on with some laughter and some light punches. the usual miya twin interaction. after some minutes, atsumu had left to join his team at the table.

"hey, you're late! good thing, the food isn't finished yet"

bokuto chirped as he started to prepare a plate for atsumu. he grinned at this, mumbling a small 'thank you' but before he could sit down he's been told to go get some drinks from the counter.

"wha? but a was just about to sit!"

"just take it, that's your punishment for being late"

he pouts and huffs but he goes anyway.

he walks towards the counter and as his fingers wrap around the bottle of sake, a hand was grabbing it too. his eyes widen slightly as he turns his head to take a look at the dude who's taking his drink.

at that moment, he felt like he had died and ascended to heaven because holy fuck was that an angel right beside him? he had never seen anyone this pretty before. and god, her eyes! he could stare into them for as long as he can.

maybe, he was staring for too long with his mouth agape because it caused you to clear your throat to get him back into reality.

"sorry, were you taking this?"

you quickly asked him and for a second there, you could've sworn you saw heart shaped pupils. he immediately took his hand away from the bottle.

"well, i was gonna but it's all yours if you want it, pretty"

he says with a flirty tone added with a flirty wink as he leaned against the counter. your lips curled into a smile at his flirt, cheeks also growing a tad red. you fixed your hair and he swears it's love at first sight.

"thank you"

you mumbled, giving him a smile before you walked away to your table. he sighed dreamily as he watches you from afar. how can someone look so pretty? your hair, your eyes, your body. the way you were staring at him judgingly made his heartbeat skyrocket. he found it so hot and cute.

he never rushed to osamu so fast in his life before. osamu, who had just gone out from the kitchen was quickly pulled into the nearest VIP rooms by his brother.

"hey! what the hell is your deal!?"

osamu groans at his brother. atsumu grabbed his shoulders.

"listen, am askin' ya as yer big brother-"

he rolled his eyes at that, big brother my ass. just by 5 minutes.

"do ya have a friend that's absolutely fuckin' hot and gorgeous ya'd feel like ya died an' saw an angel?"

osamu narrowed his eyes. what an overexaggerated question. he thought about it for a minute.

"are ya talkin' bout (y/n)? i mean, she's the only female friend i have"

(y/n). what a cute name. he sighed dreamily again when he remembered their interaction. osamu raised a brow at this.

"(y/n)? ya mean the girl of ma dreams?"

"ugh, ya lovesick idiot. yer supposed to be celebratin' my achievement not get laid"

atsumu shot him a glare and lets go of his grip on osamu's shoulders.

soon enough, they both leave the room to join the party again. osamu went to see some of his college friends and atsumu had gone to join his team.

on his way, his gaze falls on you. you looked so beautiful under the orange lights of osamu's restaurant and were you talking to his grandmother?

not only beautiful but friendly and good with old people. his heart beats faster when you laughed at whatever his grandma said because you look amazing, fuck.

and at that second, he locked eyes with you. you kept the eye contact with a gentle smile on your lips.

with just a small wink from you, he knows. he knows that he's fallen too deep for you.

[juuuulez]

🎧 | agora hills, carmen berzatto.

somethin' different about you / love it when he hit and smack too / baby, lemme lick on your tattoos / that’s true that i like PDA / take it to a seedy place / suck a little dick in the bathroom.

NSFW, blowjobs, semi-public sex, cum stuff.

request a playlist roulette here!

It had been innocent enough. You’d suggested a bar you regular at, managing to drag about half the kitchen staff down. Beers were shared, maybe you had a few too many shots, but what the hell, who’s counting?

“Hey, hey,” Carmen whispers, shooting a panicked look over at the door. “They’re gonna realise. Someone’s gonna come in.”

He’s utterly freaked out as your nails scrape under his shirt, pushing the white fabric up and up and up. You get it high enough, before replacing fingers with teeth, leaning in to nip playfully at his exposed chest.

“Locked.” You mumble into his warm skin, pressing a few kisses into his chest before flattening your tongue, dragging it over the smooth surface of his pecs.

It earns a grunt in response, Carmen’s gaze still focused on the bathroom door. Outside, it was bustling, and it’ll be sooner rather than later that another patron needs to pee, and management discovers someone’s hijacked their bathroom.

But Carmen can’t help himself, a bitter taste on his tongue thinking back to the bar’s interior. Not the bar, the guys. You were a regular here, right? So, you had to know, how they all eyed you like a piece of meat.

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” He mumbles, words tinged with something alike to jealousy, slightly condescending and definitely petty.

You bite sharply down at his chest, which earns a wince in response. Carmen’s hand moves up, clasping at the back of your head, trying to pry you from his sensitive skin. It works, for you move away, only to drop to your knees.

“Men are so goddamn weird,” You huff out, complaining mindlessly while your fingers work at his belt. It reduces Carmen to a nervous mess, his face fluctuating between the locked door, and you. “You don’t gotta be all anxious about other guys. I’m very happily taken.”

“Yeah but—” His voice tapers off into a sharp inhale, as you tug his cock from those old jeans. “They don’t know that.”

There’s more he wants to say, but it doesn’t come out, doesn’t even form in his mind. Carmen’s focus dissolves, forgetting all about the door, all about the bar, their friends. Your hand is soft as it wraps around his length, gentle caresses that have him quickly hardening, as if the sight of you down there didn’t do it already.

You move forward, licking a long stripe up the length of him, tracing a swollen vein. It ends at his tip, which you’re quick to wrap your lips around, mouth hollow as you mumble your reply through a mouthful of dick: “Then I gotta show them, huh?”

It’s filthy and Carmen is absolutely fucking done for. His hands grip the counter so hard his knuckles are white, panting and groaning above you while you suck him off, wet and messy, just the way he likes it. Spit is collecting in your mouth and dribbling past your lips, running down his shaft and collecting at the zipper of his jeans.

You’re quick about it, slick noises filling the space, hollowing your cheeks just right and paying extra attention to his reddened tip. “Please— fuck, please, can I?” Carmen doesn’t even get the question out, because you know exactly what he means, and you’re nodding as well as you can with him stuffed down your throat.

His hands move to your head, gripping handfuls of your hair and pulling you further onto him. Air forgoes you in favour of pulling each wrecked noise from your boyfriend, Carmen’s legs trembling with the pressure of an orgasm that builds and builds until he’s cumming hot strings down your throat. It’s salty and fills the cavity of your mouth, but you pull off a second before he’s finished spilling his load, fisting his cock and letting the few last drops land on your lips.

And Carmen is still panting, hair stuck to his forehead, unable to catch his breath as he watches you: using his dick to smear the cum over your lips, almost like putting on lipgloss, letting it seep into the cracks and crevices.

Words fail him as you hoist yourself to your feet, knees a little sore, feet a little numb, but ultimately uncaring. You bend over the sink next to him, pressing an exaggerated and firm kiss onto the bathroom mirror. The imprint it leaves behind is clear as day: a milky cum stain in the shape of your lips. You stare at it proudly, turning to grin back at Carmen, whose cock is hardening once more at the sight.

“Think that’s good enough?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Ngl I kinda wanna see how Zach is with a pregnant reader. Is he more laid back with the witty comments/jokes? Does he just make different comments/jokes?

P.s.

I love absolutely everything you do. ❤️

Warnings: Pregnancy talk, pregnant!reader, girl dad!Zach, some crying, major fluff

Enjoy!

꒷꒦꒷︶˚︶︶꒷꒦˚꒦꒷︶˚︶︶꒷꒦˚︶˚︶︶꒷꒦꒷

Zach would be shocked at first, literally almost like he didn’t know how it happened, he would even say that, too. But, he would be happy and reassure you in every way.

You stood staring down at the hotel’s bathroom sink. The test lighting up with a dark second line that, in all honesty, you weren’t ready to see. “Zach.” You call out, slowly turning towards the door and your nose is met with his chest. You look up at him and he leans against the door, “Need help with somethin’”

He smirks, and raises his brows and you laugh slightly, still in shock about what’s sitting on the other side of your makeup bag, “Um, I mean..” And that’s when it hit you. Tears are instantly blurring your eyes and Zach pulls you into him, “Hey, hey, hey.” He shushes you, rubbing your back, “What’s happening right now?”

He wipes the tears from your face and you motion towards the sink, gasping as you start to cry again. He maneuvers around you to your other side, keeping on hand on you as he looks down to reach for the test, “How the hell did that happen?” You can’t help but laugh, giving him a slight push, “You know how this happened.”

He fingers rub over your hip while he stares down at the test in his hand, “We got this.” He shrugs, looking over at you, “I mean, I can already guarantee you that you’re going be the best mom ever.” You start to cry, laying your head on his chest and he hugs you tight, “It’s okay. Do you want to call Tara?” You nod and he laughs slightly, “Okay, come on. We’ll call Tara.”

Zach would totally lay in bed with you, his head rested gently against your growing baby bump, and just tell jokes. He would have you laughing so hard sometimes, you get a few punches and kicked to the belly every so often and he’s amazed, and slightly freaked out each time.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Zach whispers and you look up, “Hmm.” He looks up at you, “Not you, the baby.” You raise your brows, “Okay. Sorry for interrupting.”

“Yeah, you should be.” He tries not to laugh as he looks back at your belly, pointing lazily towards you, “get a load of this heckler back here, huh.”

You shake your head, laughing quietly as he continues, “Alright, kid. Riddle me this.. why didn’t the chicken cross the road?” He pauses, both of your eyes are on your belly, “To get the other side.”

Zach laughs and gently pats your belly, which finally gets baby girl to kick and he cheers, saying, “That’s right, funny like your daddy.”

Zach would definitely [playfully] pick on you about your midnight/early morning cravings and everyone would defend you.

“Yeah, all because these two-“ he points to you and your baby belly, a smile fighting to appear on his lips as he reminds dramatic, “-had me up at four am to go get breakfast.”

Tara leans over, laying her hand on your belly, “Oh shut up, zach.” She laughs, “You did this to her, so you need to oblige to every request y/n has.” You look over at Zach and he rolls his eyes, “We need to give that baby a clock or something.”

“I don’t think..” Jared sighs with a laugh as he shakes his head, “How do you plan on-“ Jared goes to ask but Zach cuts him off, “Do you really want the answer to that? Because it’s the same way the baby got in there.”

“You do realize that you can say no, right? I mean.. I wouldn’t like saying no to a pregnant lady, but you do you man.” Alyssa laughs. You laugh, looking over at Zach and he slowly shakes his head before nodding, “I love you.”

Zach would definitely stack stuff on your stomach and get sad when baby would kick, knocking his tower over and he would pout.

You glance down, lifting your sunhat a little to see Zach, stacking seashells on your growing baby bump, “Baby. What are you do-“

You gasp when you feel a hard kick from inside your stomach and the small tower Zach was building, falls. He lets out a small scoff, “You’re supposed to be on daddy’s side, sweetheart.”

He sits up and you look at him, “Where are you going?” He stands up and looks down at you, “To find more shells. This isn’t over, yet.”

When you’re nearing the end of your pregnancy and just overall done with it all, Zach is always your safe space, even though he’ll crack a joke or two, you know he can’t help it. It’s just in his nature.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Zach greets you as you walk out of the bedroom. You look over at him, the look of over being pregnant clear on your face. You whine as you walk over to Zach, ““Why won’t she just get out already?”

He welcomes you with open arms, “Come here my babies.” He gives your shoulder a little squeeze before he places a hand on your belly, leaning down close, “Now you listen here little miss.”

You can’t help but smile and lay a hand on his back, “Your mama..” he stifles back a laugh, trying to keep his mood a pretend serious, “..Already has me to deal with, alright? She doesn’t need you having her stubbornness either.”

You look up at him and he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “shhh you didn’t hear that right now.” As much as your hormones want to cry because he called you stubborn, Zach calmed you more than anything else could ever.

꒷꒦꒷︶˚︶︶꒷꒦˚꒦꒷︶˚︶︶꒷꒦˚︶˚︶︶꒷꒦꒷

Thank you so much for reading. As always, let me know what you think! I love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Gen Words: 2.8K~ Summary: Not too long after making peace with Homeworld and sparking the start of Era 3, Steven wakes up one morning to discover some... notable changes about himself.

AKA: The one where Steven finally hits his growth-spurt. All at once. Because of course the half-Gem kid could never experience such a human thing like puberty in a "normal" way.

[Part 1 of 2]

Just a few seconds later, knuckles rap against the door in answer to his perturbed cry. 

“Yo Steve-o, that you in there?” Amethyst calls. 

“Y-yeah?” he stammers. His brows threading inwards, he delicately runs his fingers over the ridge upon his throat, very much thrown off by the distinctly lower tenor of the sound coming from his own mouth. He swallows hard, pushing himself to speak again. Come on Steven, he berates himself, think of something lighthearted. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. No need to completely freak out over this yet. “Who else would I be? It’s not like the whole town uses this bathroom…”

“I mean, I do sometimes. For fun.”

“Okay, fair point, but—”

“Dude, what’s wrong with your voice? Are you like, sick or somethin’?“

“No, it’s just—” 

He squeezes his eyes shut, blocking out all the nebulous, spinning distractions of his mind and the world beyond. Deep breath. It’s okay. Tons of things about his form may be entirely different right now, but like… he seems fine. Right?? Nothing about his body feels tangibly wrong like it did when he willfully stretched himself out on his 14th birthday, or when he changed all his fingers into cats, or when he lost all control of his aging and morphed into an anciently old man and almost died, it’s just… 

New.

New and wholly unfamiliar.

So what now? How can he bravely move forward with all this? What does he need to know? 

“Have, uh… have you ever shapeshifted by accident in your sleep?”

“Not that I‘m aware of,” she says, and he can practically hear the shrug in her tone. “Shapeshifting is a conscious thing you do. It’s a choice, y’know? It doesn’t just happen.”

A good long moment passes as he drinks this information in. He runs his hand through the short curls at the back of his neck as he stands there in the pair of too-small banana yellow pajamas he fit in just fine last night, musing.

“Huh… I guess that makes things pretty simple, then.”

“What d’ya’—”

“Amethyst, I think I’m finally older,” he says, still absolutely mystified by this prospect as he gawks at himself in the mirror. 

She gives a fond laugh. “Ch’a, right? You get older everyday, bud. Wild.”

“No, I mean I’m actually, physically older! Look!”

Steven whirls around and swings the bathroom door wide open to show her. Amethyst’s jaw drops.

“Whoa—! Dude!”

Chuckling nervously, he steps a few feet out, wriggling his bare toes against the wood floor. “I know, right?”

“What the heck, you weren’t kidding!” Before he can even move to say anything else, she spins on her heels and cups her mouth with her hands, hollering towards the temple door. “HEY, PEARL! GARNET! You gotta get out here and see this!”

His brows shoot towards his hairline, his heart hammering in his chest all the while at the thought of all the dumb show-and-tell he’s gonna have to deal with now. “Aww, come on, did you really have to—”

“Amethyst!” Pearl cries, scrambling through the still opening gap in the doorway with Garnet striding mere steps behind. She summons her spear from her gem and swings it to fighting stance with an artful flourish. “What happened? Where’s the threat? What do you need us for??”

Steven darts towards them, hands held up in a placating plea.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! There’s no danger! We’re fine. I just—”

“Oh, my stars—!” she gasps, allowing her spear to dissipate in a glittery flicker of light. “You’ve grown!”

“Nice look, Steven,” Garnet nods, a supportive smile gracing her lips.

“And you’re sure this is real this time? You’re not—?”

“No, no, I’m not stretching myself out, I promise. I just woke up like this.”

“B-but—” Pearl taps her fingers against her chin, appearing thoroughly puzzled— “I thought humans were supposed to age gradually, not all at once.”

Steven’s shoulders slump. “Well… that’s what I assumed too, but—”

“Come, sit with me,” Garnet says, walking around the warp pad to enter the living room. She sets herself down on the couch, patting the cushion in open invitation.

With a heavy, far too weary for his age sigh, Steven shoves his hands in the pockets of his too-small banana pajamas and plods his way over. The rest of the Gems follow suit. He settles himself right next to Garnet, with Pearl perched opposite to her and Amethyst happily lounging on the floor, leaning on the coffee table with her elbows. 

“Steven’s aging hasn’t aligned with the norms of humanity for a very long time,” she observes, a glint of morning sun that’s beaming through the window catching on the edge on the edge of her star shaped visor. Then, turning to him: “I’m curious why you think this is.”

He hums, considering all the chaotic happenings of the past few years. Despite the rare query she poses, he gets the sense that… in her vast wisdom… she already knows the answer. Or at least, a small sum of it. It should be noted that her future vision— as far-reaching as it otherwise is with the vast possibilities of existence— can’t ever touch any knowledge that she won’t be conscious for or present to receive, let alone retroactively scry into the past.

(And honestly? Thank goodness for that.)

“I’m not sure,” he says, a half-lie.

He can think of one reason he might’ve started aging again. Though, it’s not something he’s ready to talk to the Gems about yet. It’s… far too delicate a topic to risk bringing up so soon after the start of peaceful Era 3. But after spending a whole childhood being constantly compared to and mistaken as various versions of his mom… let’s just say, having his gem torn from his body and getting to see it reform into a version of himself (and not her) was simultaneously the worst and the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. While undeniably traumatic, this experience served as the ultimate proof that he doesn’t have to waste another second of his existence chewing away at some burgeoning identity crisis, that he can live his life however he wants. As Steven. Not as Rose, or Pink Diamond, just… Steven.

He’s not exactly sure how all this mental weirdness translates into him staying stuck looking like a little kid for like… six or so years, but after he returned home from his latest escapade on Homeworld, he could sense that— despite all the messed up stuff he and Connie went through— his spirit was lighter, somehow.

So maybe, he thinks, he simply had to peel away at all the damaged layers of his identity to ready himself to move on to the next stage of his life. Maybe he had to stare death in the eye and pass through the heart of the storm in spite of all these hardships before he could piece the foundational truths of his story back together and learn to finally live again.

To start shifting his hopeful gaze towards the dawn of their bright, sunny future…

“I mean, I always kinda thought he stopped aging because we never did,” Amethyst says then, laying her cheek on the table. “Like, it happened around the time you moved in with us, yeah?”

He purses his lips, scanning his memory. “Uh… I think so? It might have been a year before. Two, even. But I was definitely hanging out with y’all a lot by then.”

She leans over and playfully slugs him in the arm.

“See, there you go! You always wanted to be just like us when you were a kid, so much that you even wore that same ol’ star shirt every day to match ours, ha! You must’ve wanted to be a Gem so badly that you subconsciously stopped becoming older at all.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid theory, Amethyst,” Pearl chimes in. “Good thinking!”

“We have seen you shift your form in response to your perception of others around you,” Garnet says with a nod. “This has caused you to temporarily age and shapeshift in the past, but for you to age in a stable way now, your perception of self must have stabilized, too. I’m very happy for you, Steven.”

She tousles his mess of curls with her gold ringed hand, a welcome little offering of affection that he eagerly leans into.

And then, out of nowhere, Amethyst starts cackling.

“Dude,” she blurts out between her peels of laughter, nudging his foot with her elbow, “I just realized— Greg’s gonna totally lose his shit when he sees this…”

Pearl’s expression scrunches inwards with prickly displeasure. “Language!” 

“What, it’s true!”

He waves Amethyst’s comment off. “Pshhh, my dad’s seen way weirder,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Like, did I ever tell y’guys how the cat fingers incident ended?”

“No!” the quartz exclaims with intensive fervor, and leans forward in anticipation. “Gimme the juicy deets, m’man!”

Garnet adjusts her visor then, her features falling into a dutiful line. “Speaking of Greg… story time can wait until later. Steven— if you want to see your father this morning, you need to head over there now… or there’s a good chance he’ll fall back asleep until one and you’ll miss your window.”

Amethyst’s lips fall into a pout as she slumps back against the foot of the couch, her arms crossed. “Awww, phooey. Spoil sport.”

He swallows a grimace as he internalizes Garnet’s prediction. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s become a bad habit for his old man lately, staying up super late and then sleeping in almost half the day on weekends. Ever since he received that ten million dollar residues check it’s nothing that can hinder his financials anymore, thank goodness, but then again…

“Yeah… I should probably go make sure he wakes up,” he mutters, pushing his tired body off his seat. “I’ll need his help finding new clothes, anyways.”

The second he’s up and moving again, Amethyst darts around him and snatches his spot with such swift and viscous drive that one might believe this ploy were her sole quest and purpose in life. She stretches out against the seat back with a big, dramatic yawn, crossing her arms behind her head as she speaks. 

“It’s too bad you can’t just… I dunno… summon whatever clothes you want out of light, like us. That’s like the biggest bummer of humanity, if you ask me.”

“And when do you ever experiment with your outfit enough to have a strong opinion about this?” Pearl prods, crossing her arms. “It took you almost a decade to fix that asymmetrical shoulder strap.”

“Well, P… I like to think of myself as a Gem who would experiment with my outfit. One day. If I’m ever really, really bored. Consider it an Era 3 aspiration.”

Steven rocks back and forth on his heels, absentmindedly fiddling with the fraying bottom hem of his pajama top.

“Okay, uh… well, I’m gonna dress to leave now, so—”

“Yeah, see ‘ya.”

“Send a text if you need anything!” Pearl says with a casual wave.

“And don’t forget…” Garnet begins, the ellipses in her tone practically visible with the naked eye.

He pauses in his dutiful march to the stairs— (a somewhat unsteady march… as it turns out, shooting up about a foot and a half in height overnight tends to impact one’s sense of balance for the worst, go figure)— turning back to intercept whatever life advice or future vision she’s prepared for him this time. 

She grins, flashing him a quick heart with her hands instead. “We love you!”

~~

Steven trudges across the hot sands to his dad’s car wash sans his favorite flip flops, trying his very darnedest to wipe away the developing grimace on his face all the while. 

A small segment of him felt overjoyed when he first saw his reflection this morning, eager to look his age and finally grow up alongside his human friends. But after struggling to find anything that fits him even halfway right in his wardrobe, his good mood has rapidly spoiled. There’s a decent few reasons for this.

Reason number one: his old sandals are at least two sizes too small. His heels stick out over the end now, and the plastic thong digs into his toes something terrible. He literally can’t wear them without giving himself blisters. Ergo, his bare feet right now. 

Reason number two: none of his jeans sit right around the waist anymore, plus they make him look like he’s waiting for a flood. (Though thankfully, he found a stretchy blue skirt buried in one of his drawers that will do the trick for now.) 

And perhaps worst of all… reason number three: with his newly increased height, every single one of his treasured star shirts have been turned into ill-fitting crop tops, putting his gem on full display. He’s not against the concept of a crop top, but it sure ain’t a look he’s passionate about for everyday wear. It just feels… too exposing. Like, what about winter?? He can’t bear his whole midriff in winter, he’d freeze, and like… get hypothermia, or something. And not only that, but the longer he’s awake this morning the more an inescapable, thrumming ache starts to settle within the deepest core of his body, like even his bones themselves— the stubborn things— dare to object to this abrupt growth spurt.

Just… ugh. What an annoying hassle all these changes bring.  

“Stupid shirt,” he grouses, tugging at the too-tight collar, “stupid sandals, stupid Gem puberty! Why, oh why can’t I ever go through human stuff normally?”

His bare foot catches upon a sizable stone hidden amongst the beach. On any other day he would’ve successfully broken his fall, stumbling forwards a few awkward steps before regaining his balance and continuing on his way. But with his body now so different, and his center of gravity entirely off from what he’s used to, he head plants straight into the ground.

Wow, he thinks, spitting sand out of his mouth and pushing himself back to his feet. How elegant. Truly the shining paragon of coordination and grace.

Thank goodness no one was watching. Next time he’ll just have to remember to float.

He arrives at his dad’s van with no further incident. The rear doors are— following Garnet’s prediction- cracked open. Dad’s awake, at least for now.

“Daaaaaaaad,” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project. “A really, really weird thing happened, and I kinda need your help!”

A few spare seconds pass, seconds filled with the rustles of shifting blankets, the sound of a book being shut closed, and his dad’s low murmurs. The doors swing wide, though not as wide as Dad’s eyes when they wander around their bright, sunny surroundings and eventually land square on him and his new look.

“Wh— Steven, holy smokes! Look at you!”

With an awkward chuckle, he scratches away at an itch at the nape of his neck. “Heh heh, I know, right?”

“You’re almost as tall as your old man! When did this happen? How did this happen?”

“Some point last night, I guess,” he shrugs. “I just woke up like this. But Dad—” he clings onto his arm with mounting desperation— “I need your help to find some new shirts. Don’t you have like… whole boxes of your old tour merch stashed away somewhere? I don’t wanna have to get rid of my star, I just— I just need a bigger size, or something.”

“Hmmm…” Dad muses, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?”

“But if any of it’s still around, then it’s probably in Amethyst’s room. All of the stuff from the storage unit ended up with her, remember?”

“Oh…” he says, brows furrowed, not quite able to parse this fact within his memory yet. And then… 

Ugh. That’s right.

Two New Years’ ago. The huge mess of crates and mattresses and long forgotten belongings. All that ridiculous Little Butler nonsense. Amethyst’s fight with Dad.

“Oh,” he mumbles, crossing his arms. “Right. Well, then let’s go find it!”

“R- right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I need new clothes, and you could see if there’s any old junk in there you might want to keep!”

With that, he grabs his dad’s hand and yanks him along, spirit filled with renewed purpose and vigor.

“And you’re sure you need my help for this?” Dad asks, lagging a step or two behind him as they march back across the beach together. “The Gems, they… well, they don’t usually want me going into the temple—”

“Oh, Amethyst will be fine,” he says with a wave of his palm. “She never cares when I go in there to check out her trash piles. ‘Sides, I need your help to find the right box! I have no idea what your old band stuff was stashed in.”

His dad flashes a tight smile, the sort he always serves up when he’s nervous, but also too timid to tell him that he’s nervous.

“Well… if you think she’ll allow it…” he relents, and picks up his pace to match his.

~~

[End Part 1... more to be shared later.]

[bandsandwristbands]

itsa me, shukaku of the moodboards, nosying about Dont Ask Smug Nart Face thank u

I am Actually Embarrassed about this one just a little bit 😭

SOOOOO it's basically a longwinded psuedo-swinger smut with Naruhina and Gaalee o/////o 👉👈

Okay so it's a bit more complicated than that but idk if I'll ever be brave enough to Commit but I like complicated relationship dynamics that blur platonic boundaries a lil bit

Overly Analytical Horny Rambling Abound

First! I think Naruto is the type to low key have a crush on all his friends and openly hit on them in a jokey jokey "Unless?..👀" kinda way.

And I know Nart is a bit naive but I think he def picked up a lot of info from hanging around Jiraiya so I think his conceptions of casual sex and monogamy would be pretty chill. So he's pervy but much more consensual and healthy about it, mans loves to communicate even if he can be a shithead about it. Also, he canonically gets a lot of opportunities to get around, (and there's that one movie where he straight up agrees to a proposition to give a priestess an heir???)

I also think Hinata is big voyeuristic like I think she's got a sense of curiosity about it, in general she likes observing people's differences and idiosyncrasies so when it comes to horny behavior I think it's an easy slippery slope and it goes with her kinda shy nature idk freak rights for hinata (i love her dearly)

Then there's Gaara and Lee who are always all over each other and sneaking off to fool around, esp at like party/club settings which is not A Lot but enough for Naruto to see sometimes and give them shit about it, but mostly he's "hmm hot lol if you guys are ever lookin for a third or somethin" *winkwink*

I only really have one part solidified in my brain. Basically Nart walks in on a partially obscured Gaalee and he's like "oop well don't stop on my account."

Oh but gaalee are super possessive of each other no way, except that's kind of the appealing part for them! Lee kinda likes the idea of showing off what's his and the affect he has on Gaara and Gaara is not easily embrassed but for some reason the idea of being seen indisposed with Lee makes him feel very embarrassed (humiliation kink activated)

Anyway it'd cover a couple different once in awhile encounters with lots of trust building and healthy dom/sub dynamics etc etc

I unfortunately do not have a snippet for this because I get too embarrassed whenever I take an actual crack at it my smut game is intermediate at best these days 🫣🫣

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 6 (MBJ x Famous OC)

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of past experience with DV

A/N: I'm really excited about this one because… we are getting some fluff and smut with minimal to no angst lol love that for them! Enjoy!

“So how’s shit with Charlotte going?” Calliet asked, the loud crack of the pool table filling the air as Michael took his first shot.

“You mean, Els, get that shit right nigga,” Stello interjected, snickering lightly as Michael rolled his eyes at him. If there was one thing his friends were always going to do, it was make fun of his romantic side. 

Michael let out a low chuckle, choosing to let his best friend’s comment pass him by without a retort. “We’re good. She’s… she’s good.” 

“You sure? Cause you don’t seem sure.” His friends immediately picked up on the pause in his words.

“Nah, she is good. Great actually. I’m gonna sound crazy sayin’ this but she’s the one.” 

“Nigga, it’s been three months. Relax, my guy.” 

Michael shrugged. “When you know, you know. And I know that shit. It’s just…” Michael scratched his head. He had not told his friends about Charlotte’s past yet. He questioned whether it was his place to do so, to share details of her life she did not offer up herself. It seemed that only her family and closest friends knew the truth and he did not want to spread it around. However, he could not deny that he could use a sounding board as he navigated such murky waters. And he was not a man who was afraid to talk with his boys about his problems and be vulnerable. He decided he would just keep it vague, the details were Charlotte’s story to tell. “Things really are good. It’s just this shit from her past that comes up occasionally. Her ex was abusive.” 

“Oh shit. For real?” 

“Fuck.” 

“He hit her?” 

Michael shook his head. “Yea. The couple things she told me were fuckin’ insane. And I don’t think I’ve heard the worst of it. If I ever see that nigga…” He let out a deep exhale as he clenched his fists. Michael was far from a violent person, he could not even tell you the last time he even had a desire to get into a fight with anyone. Everyone in his orbit, including himself, would describe him as the calming force in a room, he always had the ability to keep his emotions in check. However, if he thought too long or too hard about Shaun Parker, all he could feel was rage. And the only action he could think of was ripping him limb from limb. 

“Damn, that’s tough. How is she doin’?” 

“Most of the time, she’s great. She’s herself. You know she’s shy and reserved in front of other people but once she’s comfortable, she’s so energetic and fun to be around. She’s charming but still has that cute awkward shit goin’ on that keeps her real and honest, fuckin’ hilarious. But the rest… I’ll say or do somethin’ that triggers her and she seems terrified of me but doesn’t know it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like it’s not a conscious thing but I can feel it wafting off of her sometimes. The first time, she broke a wine glass at my place by accident, got red wine on the rug. She’s clumsy as fuck. But I don’t care. It’s actually kinda cute. And shit happens. It’s just a fuckin’ rug. By the time she came over again, I had a new one already. She looked like she had seen a ghost, pale and freaked out. She apologized a hundred times. Her hands were shakin’ so hard, she couldn’t even pick up the glass. A couple weeks ago, she forgot we made dinner plans, same thing. And it wasn’t a big deal at all. I actually preferred it cause I was tired as hell. We ordered in and just talked. But I could feel her whole body tense like she was waiting for me to lash out at her. We were out last week, she was chatting with the waiter while I took a call. She was like an entirely different person when I got back to the table. And I wasn’t thinkin’ twice about who the fuck she talked to. But in her mind, she committed a crime or some shit.” 

“That shit’s heavy,” Calliet offered as he rounded the pool table for his shot. “Seems like small shit to us but to her, it means a whole other thing. How you dealing’ with it? I know that shit bothers you.” 

Michael scoffed, taking a long sip of his drink. “Of course it fuckin’ bothers me. To have the woman I love seem terrified of me, terrified I would even consider hurting her like that? Shit is frustrating. But I dunno. I did all this research on how to be supportive and been slowly tryin’ to add that in. But I dunno. Just worried it isn’t enough.” 

“Want my two cents?” Steelo offered. Michael was usually weary of taking relationship advice from his best friend. Steelo’s longest committed relationship amounted to months. But he also never pretended he wanted anything else, he was more than happy living the single bachelor life. Michael decided to just hear him out. If it was bad, which it was likely to be, he would just ignore it. 

“Hit me.”  

“I know I was anti-Charlotte after everything went down in Philly but this the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I think you gotta just keep showing up and maybe, actually talk to her? Research is great, google is your best friend. And you can do all that. But you also gotta know what she needs and the only person who can tell you that is her. Ask her, give her time to figure out what she needs from you, and then do those things in addition to the other shit. And I know it sounds crazy but maybe she also just has to hear you say that shit. You know… assurances and all that… women love that shit.” 

Michael glanced at Calliet who merely shrugged. “Hey, I agree with him. Broken clock is right twice a day.” 

The men laughed a bit at Michael’s friend’s expense before the only married man in the group added, “Nah but forreal. The kid is right. Talk to her. Ask her how you can make her more comfortable and go from there.” 

“That might be the first solid dating advice you’ve given me.” 

“Check back in another decade, I might have more.” 

***

“Dinner was delicious, babe. You know when you said you could cook, I definitely thought you were lying.” 

Michael chuckled. “My momma taught me a thing or two. Said she wasn’t raisin’ niggas who couldn’t throw down in the kitchen.” 

She nodded. “Well, shout out to your mom. The women of the world, particularly this one,” she pointed at herself. “Thank her.” 

He brought her a plate with a piece of chocolate cake on it, his favorite. He smiled as she did a little happy dance in her seat. His girl most certainly had a sweet tooth. 

“Don’t tell me you made this too? Cause then I might have to marry you,” she joked. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby,” he winked at her and smirked, causing her to roll her eyes. “But nah, my sister would kill me if I took credit for that. She’s the baker. I’m hopeless with desserts. It’s my favorite thing of hers. ” 

“Then we are a perfect pair. You can cook and I’ll make dessert.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he kissed the top of her head before settling back in his seat. 

He watched her eat for a few minutes, enjoying her facial expressions and small but distinct sounds of delight with every bite. She was clearly in heaven. But tonight had not just been about showing his girl a fun time and cooking for her, it was also about broaching a difficult conversation and putting his friends’ advice into action.

“Hey, Els.” 

“What’s up?” 

He held out his hand for hers, his thumb going to rub the inside of her wrist. He started doing it more often after their dinner date fiasco, realizing that she seemed to respond well to it. It was a small and gentle touch, but every time he did, her body visibly relaxed and seemed more at ease instinctually. 

“What do you need from me to feel more comfortable and safe?”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow in confusion, her spoon gently clattering against the slide of her plate as she sat it down. “What prompted that question, Mr. Jordan?” 

“Well, I just know this is your first relationship since everything. There are triggers and shit that are gonna come up. And that’s ok, I know it all takes time. I just… I want to assure you that I ain’t him. And I would never hurt you. And whatever you need me to do to help you believe that and feel you know, more at ease, I’ll do it.”

Charlotte’s heart melted for a moment before her own guilt set in. She tried not to think much about her triggers. They happened far too often. And each time, she would curse herself for it, profusely remind herself that Michael was not her ex, and swear to herself that it wouldn’t happen again. However, it always did and it felt like by the time she saw it coming, it was too late to stop it. However, what she never wanted to do was make him believe she thought he was like Shaun. She knew that was not the case in her heart, mind, and soul. However, she knew, as the famous book and her therapist constantly reminded her, the body kept a different score, kept a laundry list of every beating, every humiliating and degrading moment. She may have pushed the memories out of her mind but every single one was still etched in her bones. And she could not force that out of herself, it would only take time. 

She clenched her eyes shut for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry, Bakari. I-I never want you to feel like I think you’d hurt me or something. I know… I know that isn’t you.”

He shook his head. “Hey. Don’t apologize. I didn’t bring it up to blame you. Your past is part of you and I know it ain’t shit you can just turn on and off when it’s convenient. That’s why I want to know how I can help?” 

Charlotte stood up, abandoning her cake to join him across the table, sitting on his lap. Her hand settled against his cheek, her fingers playing with his coarse facial hair. 

“There is nothing you need to change, Michael. A-and I’m not just saying that. You’re everything I could hope for. And you treat me better than I could’ve dreamed for myself. I guess…” She paused. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be trying to be in a relationship again. I’m not afraid of you. But when you live in constant fear for so long, it sort of becomes part of you. It guided every decision, every choice, every action… every second of every day. And I think, sometimes, even though I know in my soul you aren’t him, that fear is still there in my bones. And when it hits, I don’t even realize it until it feels like I’m drowning in it. A-and I’m sorry for that because I know it’s not fair to you. I’m trying really, I promise.” She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, afraid of where this conversation might actually be headed. “B-But if it’s too much for you, I u-understand. I c-can’t expect you to stick around forever while I figure o-out my -”  

“Love, stop. Breathe. That’s not what this is at all. I’m here until you get sick of me, baby girl.” He peppered her face with pecks causing her to laugh. “And don’t apologize to me cause I don’t need it or want it. I just want you to be ok and happy with me, not worried when some other shoe is gonna drop. If there’s nothing, great. But if there is, I just want to know it. We don’t gotta discuss it tonight. I have a whole surprise waiting for you downstairs. Ain’t tryin’ ruin it. But just promise me, if you ever feel like you do need something from me to feel safer o-or I’m doing something that makes you feel unsafe, promise me you’ll tell me.”

She pressed her lips to his. She appreciated that he was not shying away from her reality, that he was jumping in to address the hard things. She would not have blamed him if he wanted to end things but he was still here, still loving her and wanting to work through the kinks of their relationship. If he was willing to have hard conversations, she had to be willing too. She could not just will all of this away, she had to actively work on it. 

“I promise.” 

“Aight, good. Now we got the hard stuff outta the way, wanna follow me to the basement?” 

“Are you gonna tell me what the surprise is? I thought you cooking for me and the food not killing me was the surprise?” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha. And nah, I’m beginning to think you really don’t know what surprise means.” 

“I know what it means, I just like to be in the know.”

“Alright, close your eyes.” 

“Bakari…” she whined. 

“Just do it, Els. Damn, you never listen to a nigga,” he mumbled. 

She winked at him before acquiescing to his wishes and closing her eyes. 

One hand held onto hers while his free hand settled on her hip as he led her downstairs and around a corner to his movie room. 

“Ok, open.” 

She opened her eyes to find the room completely different from the last time she came down there. Giant cozy pillows and blankets draped like a tent covered the floor, a whole set up of popcorn and other snacks and two cocktail glasses waiting for them.

“I know you’re kind of a homebody so a more creative spin on dinner and a movie?” He offered with a shrug. 

“You did all this??” 

“Yea, I remember you mentioned once on set that you and your siblings used to have movie nights and make forts in your basement.” 

She giggled as he led her to the perfectly constructed tent in his basement. He essentially turned his downstairs into a campground, with soft lightening and cushy blankets and pillows littering the floor around his flat screen tv. 

“This is far better than any fort we made.”

It clearly had taken him and perhaps a team of people time to set it all up. It was beautiful. She leaned over and picked up a pack of gummy bears, her favorite. “You didn’t have to do all this for me,” she whispered. “It’s too much.” 

Michael shook his head. “Nothing is ever too much for you. Besides, press tour is in what, two weeks? We’re gonna be busy so we gotta enjoy the time together while we can.”  

Michael went to the bar to pull out a pitcher of mojitos before he got situated in their fort next to her.

“Not gonna lie. I’m kinda looking forward to it. It’ll be my first real press tour.”

“I’m about to be all your work firsts, then?” 

Charlotte nodded as she took a sip of the cocktail Michael made for her. 

“Yea and some personal ones, I’m sure,” she muttered under her breath, thinking back to the conversation with her friends.

“What’s that mean?” 

She let out a nervous laugh and shook her head. “Nothing, nothing at all.” She turned the gummy bears toward him, allowing him to take a handful before she snuggled into his side. 

The pair snuggled and joked as they watched Bad Boys, a movie that made it onto both of their top five movies lists. Their banter carried them through most of the film, the pair analyzing and offering their two cents as if they were experts on thwarting criminals. The pair made their way through an obscene amount of snacks and a pitcher of mojitos as they watched the first movie and its sequel. 

“Those drinks were so good,” she muttered as she examined the now-empty pitcher, a small pout on her features. “If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out, you could be a bartender for sure.” 

Michael laughed and rubbed her thigh. “You wanna just crash here? You shouldn’t drive home after all that. And it’s already late as hell,” he remarked, glancing at his watch to find it was almost 1 am.  

She shrugged and winked at him. “Jokes on you… that was alllllll part of the plan. Your bed is more comfortable than mine.” 

“Damn, you just usin’ a nigga for a comfortable bed??” 

“Not just the bed… Comfortable bed, free meals, cuddly oversized sweatshirts,” she listed on her fingers with a sly smile. 

“You know I’m good for other things too,” he whispered with a smirk on his face, his fingers drawing featherlike patterns on her exposed thigh that sent chills down her spine. She knew exactly what he was suggesting and she did not know if it was the liquor or just the overall effect he had on her body, but she wanted to know what those things were. She wanted more. More of him, more of his touch, more of his love. And she did not want to wait a single moment longer. 

And she did not want the night to end, their last true moment of solitude before life picked up again. They would be traveling and exhausted for a month. Though she was excited to spend her first press run with him, she knew it would not be true alone time. It would be work and since they were not a public couple yet, they would have to exercise some discretion.

She threw caution to the wind and straddled his hips, ignoring his surprised look as she took charge of the moment. She kissed him before nibbling on his ear and whispering, “Why don’t you show me?” 

Usually, those words would have had Michael ripping a woman’s clothes off within milliseconds. However, despite the lust coursing through him, he forced himself to pause and confirm her wishes. Once he knew Charlotte wanted to take it slow, he always made sure to pump the brakes before things got too hot and heavy between them. No matter how hard it was - and it was excruciatingly hard - it was one of his many attempts to show Charlotte that he understood and respected her boundaries and subtly remind her she had agency in their relationship. He never wanted her to feel pressured to do something she did not want to do because she was conditioned never to say no. He wanted her to know she was steering the ship and he was fine with whatever speed she chose. 

Admittedly, this was the longest he ever waited for a woman to sleep with him. They were well into month three and had not progressed past heated make out sessions. However, Michael, honestly, did not mind. He longed to bury himself inside her, to taste her, to show her pleasure she had never known before. But he knew it would be more enjoyable for both of them if she was truly ready for it. 

Michael’s eyes grew wide with surprise as her statement settled in his brain matter. He leaned back over her, his soft hand cupped her cheek and held her eyes to his. 

“You sure? We don’t gotta do anything you aren’t ready for, Els. And we been drinkin’ and shit. I’ll wait as long as you want, love.” 

Charlotte offered him a soft smile. “I know. And it’s very sweet and it makes me love you even more if that’s even fucking possible,” she let out a nervous laugh. “I trust you a-and I want you. That’s all I need. So I am very ready for you to break my back like you promised.” 

Michael chuckled and kissed her on the neck softly. 

“You sure?” 

Charlotte knew she would not find the words to describe how desperately she needed him. It was no longer a want that could be diminished by her anxieties and fears, it was a need. A need that felt as fundamental to her survival as oxygen to her lungs and sustenance to her body. His willingness to take it slow and respect her boundaries, the ways he went out of his way to make her feel safe and desired daily only increased her lust. So she decided to show him through action. 

“Yes…” she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it over her shoulders, thankful she decided to wear a matching bra and panty set. She had no intention, originally, of their date night taking this specific turn but she was grateful nonetheless. She felt empowered and assured in her decision as she watched his reaction, pure lust and desire taking over his features. 

He licked his lips before he captured hers again. She moaned as his hands enjoyed free reign of her body, softly kneading and gripping her ass and thighs. She could feel the desire pooling between her legs, the movie playing on the tv long forgotten. She did not stop him as he flipped her onto her back, his chest pressed against hers as he sucked on the soft skin of her neck. 

Michael took his time as he kissed her, paying close attention to every moan and groan, his ears perking up when he hit a sweet spot. He wanted to know every intricacy of what she liked and just how she liked it. His path of kisses and gentle nips down her body was deliberate and slow, he savored  how her whimpers became needier as he went. But he did not speed up. He was determined, desired to see her come undone piece by piece, and that was a process he could not rush.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as his lips lingered against one of her scars, knowing they made her insecure about her appearance. 

By the time he reached her lower stomach, her whimpers had turned to pants of need. Charlotte had never experienced foreplay like this before. She did not understand how he was already so attentive, the way he seemed to immediately respond to her body, picking up on cues Charlotte would not have been able to articulate herself. If her body was an instrument, Michael seemed to already be a savant, hitting the right notes with every caress and touch.  It was a slow march and Charlotte was feigning for the main event, feigning for him to fill her. 

Michael finally detached his lips from her body and made quick work of removing her thong. 

“All this for me?” He whispered as he licked his lips as he admired the wetness between her thighs. 

He spread her legs and licked his lips before kissing her inner thighs. Charlotte almost saw God when he added in a gentle bite, sending sparks of pleasure through her. With every passing second, his lips got closer and closer to the treasure between her thighs, a coveted meal Michael had been waiting months to taste. 

However, realizing his intention, Charlotte immediately felt the first wave of anxiety and insecurity hit her, pulling her out of the moment and mind-numbing fog of pleasure. 

“W-what are you doing?” She breathed out, stopping his path toward her core. 

“About to get a taste,” he muttered as he continued kissing her inner thighs. 

Charlotte squirmed for a moment before quietly offering. “Y-You don’t have to do that… if you don’t want to.” 

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. There was literally nothing he wanted more in this world at this moment. “I definitely want to. What’s wrong?” 

“N-Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just never…” She scratched her forehead and kept her eyes trained on the ceiling. It was embarrassing and she did not really want to say it out loud. Similar to her lack of an orgasm, she had also never revealed to anyone that her sexual experience was severely lacking in terms of receiving pleasure. Giving? She was good at it and enjoyed it occasionally. But she had always been the giver and now could not even fathom what receiving felt like. She knew, based on conversations with her girlfriends, that she was missing something spectacular and life changing. But the mental block was there and she found it hard to want it. “Never mind, it’s embarrassing.” 

Michael chuckled. “Aint shit to be embarrassed about with me, baby.” He kissed her softly on the lips. 

“No one’s ever given me…” 

Her words died in her throat but Michael did not need her to finish the sentence. He knew exactly what she was trying to say and shocked was an understatement. He had jerked himself off more times than he would ever admit dreaming of her paradise, what she tasted like, and what sounds she would make when he finally found himself in that promised land. And to think that no one had ever taken the time or care to give her that pleasure angered him more than it should have. He supposed he should be happy he was the first one to give her that experience but he hated that her sex life prior to him had been so lacking.  

“You trust me?” 

She nodded immediately. “Of course.” 

“Ok, then just lay back and relax for me, aight? If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But I don’t think you’re gonna want me to stop.” He offered her a knowing wink.

Michael was not a man who begrudgingly engaged in foreplay simply because it was required. The build up was his favorite part of the experience, knowing he was giving his partner exactly what they needed and wanted, worshiping her body like the queen she was. He would bask in every moment of proving to her that he wanted to do this task more than anything else.  

“Always so cocky,” she muttered with a smile. 

“And you love that shit,” he shot back as they traded playful jabs. “Now relax… and let me take care of you.” 

Michael’s hands pushed open Charlotte’s legs, her pussy glistening with need. 

Not wanting to waste another second, he leaned in and enveloped her clit into his mouth, sucking gently. 

Charlotte let out a deep moan, a moan so visceral and carnal, she did not even know she could produce such a sound. But she didn't even know her body could feel pleasure like this and he was only just getting started. 

It seemed Michael was right about one thing, she most certainly did not want him to stop. 

Michael poured his whole soul into his ministrations, pulling out every trick he knew to send Charlotte over the edge. He licked and sucked, spelling out all his love and adoration with every caress of his tongue. He savored every moan and groan, every plea for him to go faster. 

“Fuck… B-Bakari… p-please don’t stop.” 

Unnecessary directions, in his opinion, he could do this all night. 

Charlotte’s eyes clenched shut as she grabbed one of the plush pillows on the floor and moaned into it, suddenly remembering that Michael’s parents lived with him. 

“Put the pillow down,” he emerged from her legs to demand. “Room’s soundproof, I promise. I wanna hear you.” 

She immediately tossed it to the side as she rode the waves of pure passion and ecstasy his mouth provided. She was not sure where to concentrate as every pleasure sensor in her body felt like it was on fire. She was overwhelmed and yet, she wanted more. She wanted to drown in it, drown in this feeling that seemed to never end. Every time, she felt as if she must be reaching its peak, he pushed her higher and higher. 

His eyes never left her face as he devoured what would now be classified as his favorite meal. The moment she came, he wanted to see it. Every sound she made only spurred him on as he inched her closer and closer to her mountain top. 

Charlotte felt her world go dark, everything in her snapped as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She felt as if she was in fog, Michael’s voice distant and quiet as she experienced her first orgasm. She felt as if he had just altered the course of her life at that moment. She wondered if this was what rebirth felt like and how she had ever lived without this unfiltered… bliss. She let out a stream of curse words as she rode out her orgasm, Michael offering her praise that she could barely register.

“That’s it, Els. Cum for me.” 

He emerged from between her legs and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself. 

“You taste so good, baby. So sweet,” he offered as he gave her a few moments to settle down. . 

“T-that was…” She struggled to find the words as her already slightly hoarse voice filled the space. 

“You liked that, baby?” He asked, his deep voice sending jolts of pleasure down her body. His finger entered her, immediately curling into her g-spot causing her to gasp. 

This man… was going to be the death of her, she decided. 

“Y-Yes,” she whispered. 

“You want more, Els?” 

She nodded fervently. Michael pushed himself off the floor and quickly stripped down, his manhood standing at attention for the woman he loved. 

Her breath hitched slightly as she took in his length and girth. He settled himself between her legs before starting to push inside her. 

She let out a groan of pain that made him pause, his eyes immediately filling with concern. He started to pull out when she wrapped her legs around his hips to stop him. 

“N-No, don’t. I-it’s just been a couple years. That’s all. I’m good, promise.” 

His forehead fell against hers as he slowly pushed inside her. His eyes did not leave hers, pausing his movements every time he saw an iota of discomfort or pain on her face. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, professed his love and adoration for her, told her how good she felt around him as he waited for her to adjust.

And once she gave him the ok, he started his slow and steady strokes into her. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he muttered as the soft slapping sounds of their hips meeting filled his basement. 

His dick curved right into her g-spot, forcing words of adoration and love from the depths of her soul at the end of every stroke. Her soft pants morphed into moans and screams of pleasure as she felt jolts of pleasure throughout her body.  

“F-fuck, I l-love you,” she panted out. “Harder,” she demanded, Michel more than happy to oblige. 

He increased his pace, relentlessly fucking her. She was thankful this portion of the house was soundproof, his basement soaking up the loud symphony of their collective moans. . 

She could feel all of the love and adoration he held for her in every stroke, every affirmation he whispered into her ear as he sent her soul to another plane. All she could do was pant and cry out in pleasure as he promised to love her until his last day. 

Michael’s physical fitness and stamina meant that they were just getting started. Michael and Charlotte moved around his basement, fucking on any and all surfaces that they saw fit. He transitioned between positions like an experienced dancer and pulled countless orgasms from the depth of her soul. 

“Fuck. Just like that baby. Ride this dick,” he moaned. He let out a low growl as she rode him, he was in heaven as he buried his face in her chest, his mouth enveloping her nipple. He was surprised at how much she responded to it, her head falling back in pleasure, her mouth agape. She cried out in pleasure as he gently bit down on the swell of her breasts. He switched between the two, making sure to give each equal attention. 

“You look so sexy riding my dick,” he praised her, causing her to increase her pace. 

She ignored the burn in her thighs as she continued, her thoughts only focused on giving him the same pleasure he gave her. She loved this position. It made her feel emboldened and in charge. And so she decided to enjoy that feeling and switch it up, giving him another view to enjoy. She slid off of him, both of them groaning lightly at the feeling of emptiness while she repositioned herself in reverse cow girl and slid back onto his dick. 

Michael smirked at the satisfied moan that escaped her lips as he filled her again. He grabbed her hips, thrusting into her rapidly as he enjoyed the view of her ass bouncing against his hips. He had let her control the pace before but now? It was his turn again. She yelped lightly as his hand spanked her. It was unexpected but not too rough, clearly to test the waters. She moaned, letting him know that she enjoyed it, the edge of roughness and small jolts of pain mixed in with his gentle touches. 

“You like that, baby?” He asked as he spanked her again, his strong arms lifting her body up and down as if she weighed nothing. 

“Y-Yes! I love it,” She panted out, breathless and exhausted as he fucked her. “I’m g-gonna cum!” 

Her hands pressed against his stomach to hold herself up as she rode the length of her orgasm, her body barely staying up right. When she calmed down, he lifted her off of him and instructed her to get on all fours. 

He positioned himself behind her and massaged her ass for a moment, admiring the perfect view. 

“Arch your back for me, baby. That’s it, good girl.” 

Charlotte could’ve cum right then, hearing him praise her. 

Good girl, she wanted to hear that every day for the rest of her life. 

She groaned as he entered her again, this position allowing him to get even deeper than before. Charlotte’s screams grew to new heights as he fucked her senseless from behind, taking her directive to break her back extremely serious. She was thankful that the strength of his thrusts naturally buried her face in the pillows of their now destroyed fort; she did not think even a soundproof room could contain her at this point. 

In this moment, she realized exactly what Jazz meant: this was life-changing and fun. For the first time, she was not waiting for it to all be over, she was enjoying it, actively meeting his thrusts to increase her pleasure. And when his fingers dug into her hips to hammer into her at his own pace, like a man possessed, she was more than willing to surrender her entire being to him and let him give her exactly what he believed she needed. Because he actually knew, every action was meticulous and measured, attuned to needs she did not even know she had. But he did and she loved him for it. So she surrendered, surrendered to bliss, knew she would forever happily hand over the reins of her pleasure to him because she desperately wanted what he had to give.

“Why you running, baby?” He asked as he fucked her, her body instinctively shying away from the intense pleasure of another orgasm building too fast. 

“I-I… I-it’s too much…” she breathed out, unable to form coherent sentences.

“You want me to stop?” He asked as he continued fucking relentlessly. 

“N-no,” she whimpered, and it was true. Her body felt as if it may die if he stopped but also that another orgasm might kill her. In a split second decision, dying from pleasure seemed like the better way to go. 

“Good girl. You’re taking me so well, love. Cum for me one more time, baby.”

As he felt her pussy snapping around his dick and her screams grew louder, he knew she was close. He reached around and rubbed her clit to give her the extra push she needed. 

Charlotte let out a breathless scream, her vision going black as the most powerful orgasm of her life ran through her. She didn't even get to feel him cum inside her as he finally reached his own peak. 

When she finally opened her eyes again, Michael was sitting watching her intently. 

“Welcome back, almost had me worried for a minute. You ok?” 

All she could do was nod, not understanding how he looked completely unruffled while she felt as if she had done a triathlon. 

He held out his hand to help her up and slide his robe around her. She was surprised to find him already in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. 

“H-How long was I out?” 

He laughed, kissing the top of her head. “Just a couple minutes. Come on, I’ll start a bath upstairs.” 

She groaned as she tried to move her legs. “M-My legs don’t work, babe. N-Not gonna make it upstairs.” 

He laughed and swooped her up into his arms. “Good thing you have me then.” 

Charlotte snuggled into his chest as he carried her to his suite. He made quick work of filling the tub with hot water and helping her into the tub, the smell of eucalyptus, her favorite, filling her nose. 

“This is sweet,” she said, her voice raspy from their activities. “T-thank you.” She settled into the bathtub, her head lulling back as her eyes fell closed. The warm water felt like heaven on her aching muscles. 

“You feel ok? Was afraid I was too rough at the end?” 

She let her head fall lazily in his direction, a content smile on her face. “No, it was great. Though I think you might've thought I was a gymnast at one point, really pushed the limits of my flexibility. And I now feel like I need to go to yoga classes so I don’t need to soak my muscles every time we have sex,” she laughed. “But it was perfect. You’re perfect.”

They shared a sweet kiss before silence fell over them. Charlotte did not stay in the tub long, her desire to be in Michael’s arms again overwhelming. Once she was done, Michael gave her clothes to throw on and they climbed into bed. 

Michael’s head rested on her chest, both of them muttering soft I love you’s before they drifted off to sleep.

***

“Charlie!” 

Charlotte's eyes gravitated toward a familiar voice, finally landing on Chris who had commandeered a corner booth toward the back and was waving at her. 

“How are you??” Her voice took on a sing-songy tone as she hugged him before sitting across from him. “It’s been way too fucking long.” 

“I know, I know. It’s tough. I’m rarely out here and you’re never in NYC anymore.” His voice was filled with teasing accusations as he referenced her disappearing act. “But I’m glad you were able to fit me in.” 

The pair spent over a half hour catching up, Chris sharing gossip from the NYC theater scene that Charlotte was no longer in touch with. She considered Chris MacDonald to be one of her closest friends. He had been her mentor when she was at a school, he was a recent graduate working on his musical and worked with students in his free time. He was easily the most talented songwriter she had ever heard, his first musical becoming a staple on Broadway within months. Every song he touched turned to gold and money. They transcended the usual mentor-mentee relationship quickly, becoming good friends. Chris always vowed to make her his leading lady in one of his shows one day. 

“So what are the next few months looking like for you?” 

“We’re starting press for Creed out here next week. Then the premieres here and press and a premiere in Philly. We have a couple of events and things once it hits theaters and then I should get a break right before Christmas. Thankfully, since it is the first one, the press schedule isn’t insane. But it's still a lot.” 

“So I gotta know, do you miss the stage at all?”

“All the time,” Charlotte moaned, her shoulders collapsing a bit. Chris was the type of person who knew the answer to his question before he asked it. So she knew there was no use in lying. “All. The. Time.” She emphasized. “Movies are great, don’t get me wrong. Can’t say anything too bad about them, after all, my first major film led me to Michael. Who you have to meet by the way. But it’s just not the same. It doesn’t… make my soul happy the way theater did? Money’s better,” Chris immediately nodded in agreement. “But that’s about it. Just doesn’t really fulfill me the same way.” 

“Would you want to go back?” 

An antenna in Charlotte’s mind went up as she heard his tone, his voice taking on the tenor of someone who was dipping a toe in to test the waters. 

“Ummm yea, I mean I’d love to go back. But… the practicalities of it. Just don’t think it is in the cards for me.” She shook her head gently and picked up her coffee. The mug hid the sad smile she had on her face, a realization that her choices meant her dreams weren’t a possibility anymore. “Besides, there isn’t a theater director who knows my name who’d give me another chance.” She simply shrugged. “It’s cool though. My life’s out here now, new relationship’s out here, friends, family. It’s better this way.” 

Chris nodded. “What if you were looking at a writer and producer who wanted you to be in their next show?” 

Charlotte laughed, “Very funny, Chris.” She had heard about his next project through the grapevine, which just completed an off-Broadway run in Massachusetts and was picked up to perform on Broadway in the new year. His musical, The Lighthouse, followed the closing shift of a dive bar during a winter’s storm. It was one of those shows where the entire play takes place in a singular room, following four characters, the owner of the bar and his wife, and the main character, Ashley, and her ex, who is a bartender. Charlotte had only read reviews of it but every review praised Chris for his poignant examination of relationships, human connection, and the innate desire to fight for the things and one you love, even when the fight seems foolish and you are outnumbered.

“I’m being dead serious, Charlie. I know you’re about to start promo for the film so you wouldn’t get that break you’re looking forward to. But it premieres on Broadway in March. We are casting new folks since the off broadway cast is transitioning to other roles. And for the lead, I started with your name but didn’t think you’d want to come back. And after scouring my brain for months and chatting with other writers like Lin and all roads lead back to you. You’re perfect for it. Your voice, your skills… you would knock it out of the park.” 

Charlotte shook her head, “Oh Chris… thank you but I can’t. It’s just not for me anymore.” 

“The stage was made for you, girl. Look, I wasn’t trying to come here and beg you but I will if I have to. I want you, Charlie. Not some random girl no one has ever heard of… You, the woman who made me cry the first time I heard her sing, the woman with perfect pitch, a woman who's been through shit and knows how to bring that pain and vulnerability and channel it into a performance. Look, I could get any recent graduate from Juilliard or Yale and throw them in this show and it would be good. But I don’t want ‘good’. I want excellent and you are excellence. Just give me a year. One year. Not even a year,” he corrected himself as she shook her head. “Six months. Six months and you’ll be nominated for a Tony in 2017, maybe even 2016 depending on when they cut off the season. ” 

At the sound of the coveted award Charlotte had dreamed of her entire life, Charlotte perked up. “How do you know it’s Tony worthy?” 

“Because I wouldn’t have flown across the country to grovel at the feet of one of the greatest actresses and singers I’ve ever seen for anything less than a Tony-winning role. Six months to a year, max. Give me six months of your life, Charlie and I swear - you’re Grammy and Tony nominated at worst… two steps closer to an EGOT at best. Come on, don’t tell me you forgot? This was on the vision board you showed me when you were a plucky, annoying freshman. This is it, this is the opportunity to make that vision board come true.”

Just as Charlotte opened her mouth to rebut him, he stopped her. “Look, I gotta jet to another meeting. But don’t say no just yet, please? I promised the team I would have my Ashley by the time I got back home on Monday. I’ll send you the tracks, the video of the workshop, talk it over… pray on it, and get back to me in a few days. Just promise me you’ll think about it, Charlie. Please?”

Charlotte nodded weakly. “Fine… I’ll think about it.” 

She knew logically there was nothing to think about. The mere idea went beyond playing with fire, it was playing with a raging inferno to move back there. For all she knew, Shaun was a mere powder keg waiting for the right spark to explode and she would be handing it to him on a silver platter. However, her soul and her ambition, well those parts of her were thinking… and they were thinking hard.

She said her goodbyes to Chris and paid for her coffee. And before she could even make it outside to her car, she heard the ding of several emails, all from Chris with the music tracks. She slid into her car and hooked it up as she drove to Michael’s. Since they broke through the physical intimacy barrier, she essentially lived at his place. After spending almost every night there, he cleared out a drawer and gave her space in his closet. Now she rarely went to her own spot. 

Since his house was a bit farther out, she made it through Act 1 of the show before she pulled into his driveway. However, she did not immediately turn it off to get out of the car. She was so enthralled that she just sat there in his driveway with her eyes closed, falling deeper in love with the music with every passing chord. 

“That fucking bastard,” she muttered to herself as her head thudded back against the seat. “The great Chris MacDonald strikes again.” 

It was always a running joke among the Broadway community that no one ever said no to Chris. If he wanted you, he would always find a way to convince you to work for him. Whether it was the strength of the piece itself or his persuasive abilities, no was not a word he heard. 

And she hated that it was working on her. This was award worthy. It was more than that, it was a game changer. It would take more than a year to pick up steam but when it did, it would become a household name. She could feel it in her bones. And the main character, Ashley, was perfect for her. Her ballad, which closed out Act I, was giving Defying Gravity levels of emotion. It was climatic and she could just picture herself singing it on stage. And while the show was filled with drama and emotion, it struck the perfect balance of being funny and relatable. It was the type of show you left and talked about for hours with your friends, examining each character and their decisions with a fine tooth comb.

She sat in her car and typed out notes on her phone as she worked her way through Act II, noting things she picked up on and wanted to discuss further with Chris. She did not even realize how long she sat out there until she heard a knock on her car window. 

“Shit!” She jumped almost clean out of her skin as she turned to find Michael staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. She took a deep breath before opening the door. “You scared me.” 

“My bad. I saw you pull up 30 minutes ago. Wanted to make sure you were good. You on the phone or somethin’?” 

“30 minutes?? Sorry, baby. I was just listening to these songs Chris sent me.” 

She pulled herself and her bag out of the car and followed Michael into the house. The house smelled delicious, Michael immediately returning to the oven to check on his Bolognese sauce.  

“How was coffee?” 

“Um… intriguing, that’s for sure.” Charlotte threw her bag down on one of the bar stools and immediately grabbed the loaf of bread and other materials that were sitting out to help Michael finish dinner. 

“Ok, elaborate.” 

Charlotte sighed. “Well, it wasn’t a friendly catch up like I thought. He has a role for me… in his new show.” 

“Ok… and?” 

“It’s really fuckin’ good, Bakari. Like game changing good. Like household name good. He said he just wanted six months out of me, which is more than enough to be nominated this year or next.” 

Michael nodded. “Ok… I’m hearing all the good things… sounds like good shit. But you’re hesitating. What’s stopping you?” 

She turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “Well first, my life is here with you. Not in New York. We’ve only been dating for three months. I don’t want to lose what we have.” Michael glanced at her, waiting for her to say more. “A-and I left New York in such a weird way. I don’t even know how people feel about me now. A-and 8 shows a week??” She ranted, taking her frustration out on the helpless loaf of Italian bread in front of her. “Don’t even know if I can physically do that shit anymore. I’m not that good of a dancer… I mean when would we have time to see each other if I’m doing 8 shows a week? I could kiss my current career goodbye. I feel like I started down this road, don’t know if I should backtrack?”

Michael turned her away from the cutting board and took the knife out of her hands. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer and closer to him. 

“What’s really wrong, Els? Cause it ain’t any of the dumb shit you just mentioned.” 

Charlotte immediately felt offended, her body attempting and failing to twist out of his firm but still gentle grip. “Excuse me?? Those are legit concerns, thank you very much.” 

“No they aren’t. You’re never gonna lose me cause you’re pursuing a dream. New York is a plane ride away, I’ll come to you when I’m not filming. Long distance relationships work and thrive every day, Els.” He started to list off, dismissing her concerns one by one. “You left to save your life. Fuck anyone who doesn’t understand that or sympathize with that shit. Besides, who even gives a fuck what they think? You got Chris in your corner and more people than you think, that’s enough. You can dance just fine. And you run like 6 miles every single day so physically, you can do anything including sing and dance for 2 hrs 8 times a week. And it’s not backtracking. You started in the theater, took a break and are going back. People do that shit literally all the time. I think you’re scared. And if you want to say no for all those practical reasons to Chris, fine. But at least be honest with me. Why are you really hesitating?” 

She picked at her nails, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. She hated that she had to consider him, this dark cloud that hung over her head and still indirectly affected her decisions. She hated that he still had this much power 

“I left New York for a reason, Bakari. A-and that reason is still walking and talking and… I don’t think I can ignore that just because Chris dangles a shiny Tony in front of my face.” 

“Do you really think he’d try something?” 

“I… I dunno. But I also don’t know if I want to test that theory. I gave it all up then because I couldn’t stay alive and keep it. I tried that and it didn’t work. All I got was a break in and three days in the ER. How’s this time gonna be any different? Seems dumb to walk right back into the lion’s den.” 

“Are you walking back into the lion’s den or following your dreams? Was he a Broadway enthusiast or somethin?” 

Charlotte let out a humorless laugh. “Hell no. He hated musicals… and joy… and laughter… and me,” she added under her breath with a humorless chuckle. “What does it matter?” 

“It matters because who's to say he will even know you’re there? Even in the most popular shows, the everyday person doesn’t follow news about it. And this is a new show, not like that rap one everyone I know keeps going to see about the dead white people?”

“Hamilton?” Her judgment of his lack of theater knowledge showed in her laughter.. “‘That musical with the dead white people’” she chuckled. “It’s the hottest ticket of the year, babe.” 

“See,” he emphasized, ignoring the tone of shade in her voice. “I’m an actor and still don’t know this shit.”

“Bakari… be serious, please.” 

“I am!” He laughed. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is even the most popular shows, the non-broadway goer doesn’t know whose in them. You’re a rising star and the benefit of a rising star is that you can still keep a low profile when you want. For all that nigga knows, you’re still in LA. Talk to Chris about promo and maybe keeping a lower profile for the first couple months and all that and secure your dream, babe.”

“But I already proved I can’t have both, Bakari,” she repeated. 

He shook his head. “No, you couldn’t have both then. It’s been a couple years, you’re different. And who knows, that nigga could’ve moved to another state or be in a new relationship or anything. A lot can change in two years, right?” 

She scratched her head. The things Michael said made total sense but there was still this wall standing in her way. 

“Els, baby. Look at me.” His finger lifted her chin to look him in the eye. “I think you should do it. It’s six months until you come back here. Ever since I’ve known you, being the lead of a show has been your dream. And you miss it. And now someone is handing you the opportunity on a silver platter. Why miss it a second time? And if it makes you feel safer, I’ll move with you.” 

Charlotte shook her head. “Baby, I can’t ask you to move across the country for me. Your family, your friends… your life is here.” 

He shrugged. “And in six months, my life will still be here. My future is wherever you are. And I told you a couple weeks ago that I’d do whatever you needed to make you feel safe.” 

“Yes, with you. Not out in the world. I can’t ask you to upend your entire life for me. We haven’t been together that long.” 

“Semantics. I told you I’d do whatever you needed. This counts in my book. Don’t think about the length of time we’ve been together or where it is or any of that shit. Would it help and make you feel more comfortable if I went with you? At least for a couple months?” 

Charlotte studied him for a moment, realizing he was truly being sincere. She found it hard to ask for such a thing but she could not deny that it would help her. Even just knowing that she could come home to someone each night and be safe in their arms felt like it would change everything. 

“Y-Yea, it would help a lot. But you really don’t have to, babe.” 

“Ok then it’s settled. If you take it, I’ll go with you. I know we’re jumping ahead and skipping some steps but I’m in if you are.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” 

He shrugged as he moved to put the garlic bread in the oven. “What’s there to think about? It’s like moving for a role. It doesn’t really change much. When would you have to be there?” 

“Top of January, the show is supposed to premiere on March 1.”

He nodded. “Ok so if you decide to do it, we can move right after Christmas to make sure you’re there in time.” 

Charlotte chuckled.  “Yea while you’re planning our move, I actually need to decide whether to do it.” 

Michael leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “I’m removing obstacles so you can make the best decision for you. Not for me or because of that nigga. For you. If you want this, we’ll do whatever we gotta do to make sure you’re safe while you do it, ok?” 

Her arms went around his shoulders, their bodies flush against each other. “How’d I get so lucky to find you?” 

“I’m the lucky one, honeybee.” 

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, “Honeybee? That’s a new one. Where’d that come from?” 

“Cause you taste sweet, like honey.” 

“‘I taste sweet, what do- ohhhhh,” the memory of him saying that during the first time he gave her head came back to her mind causing her to laugh a bit. “Thought I’d try it out. It has a cute ring to it. You don’t like it?”

“I like any nickname you give me, love. But… let’s make this the only one inspired by our sex life, ok?”

“Deal.” 

The pair ate dinner before retreating to his bedroom. They did not talk about Chris’s offer again until they were settled in bed, Charlotte laying on Michael’s chest. 

“I think… I think I want to do it. You’re right, it’s my dream and I might not get another shot like this again,” she offered in the quiet and darkness. She knew he was not asleep yet. 

Michael did not even take a beat before he responded, “I guess we’re moving to New York then.” 

Charlotte sat up, leaning on his chest. “You knew I was gonna take it the whole evening didn’t you?” 

He shrugged, before shifting so she was laying back down. He placed a kiss on the top of her forehead and merely smiled. “Yea… when are you gonna learn? I’m always right, baby,” he joked. "You gonna call Chris?

She bit down the joke that bubbled to the surface and merely settled back into his arms with a smile. 

“Yes you are, baby. And in the morning, it's after midnight."

"Yea and you said he flew all the way out here for you. That man is probably waiting by the phone for you. Call him, if he's asleep, you can try again in the morning. Besides, knowing you, you'll find some way to talk yourself out of it by morning." He reached over to her side and grabbed her phone. "Call him, babe."

"Touché." She slid out of his bed and paced, one hand fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt she had on while her feet dragged across his soft plush carpet.

She waited for a few moments with bated breath until she heard his voice fill her ears.

"Hey, Chris! Sorry if this is too late to call? Hope I didn't wake you."

"Oh no, I was just up working and praying your name would cross my phone sometime before the night was over. Please tell me you called me this late with bad news."

Charlotte chuckled and glanced at Michael who gave her an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

"No, no. Just calling to tell you that you can tell the team you found your new Ashley."

She had to hold the phone away from her ear as his screams of delight threatened to bust her ear drums.

"God, I fucking love you, Charlotte Bennett. I could literally kiss you."

"I think my boyfriend would have something to say about that," she chuckled. "But yea I'm in."

"Amazing. I'll send over details to you and your team tomorrow and we can talk more then. Seriously, Charlie, you won't regret it. I promise."

"I know, thank you, Chris. Seriously. Ok, talk tomorrow. Bye."

She hung up the phone and turned to Michael, the realization hitting her.

"I'm gonna be leading a show on Broadway." She ran back to the bed and jumped on it, her previous exhaustion long forgotten as her excitement took over.

Michael enveloped her in a tight hug before they both settled back into bed.

"This is gonna be good, Els. I can feel it."

She placed a quick kiss on his bare chest. "I feel it too. Thank you. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing this without you."

"I gotchu, Els. Always."

Tags: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! We finally got some smut (woohoo). Tbh smut is like really hard for me to write lol so I hope y'all liked it? I really wanted it to be intimate and showcase how close they've gotten in a short time. They could be sexy and honest and vulnerable and playful with each other and it not ruin the moment, it only enhances it for them. Next chapter, we'll get some fluff with their first public outing as a couple and press tour cuteness (think Tom/Zendaya and Corey/India from Queen Charlotte level cuteness). I'm gonna try to get a one-shot out this week too before I'm off on vacation. We'll see if I can actually get it done :)

Leave a comment on what you thought of the chapter and let me know if you want to be tagged!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

question..? - g. van fleet

a/n: i have no defense for this one gamers, I just thought a quick little blurb like this would be really funny and i hope y’all agree. warnings: nicknames, no use of y/n, fluff, very suggestive behaviors from a few of these guys, cursing, reader has adhd in sams, uhhhh if i missed anything let me know :) summary: you ask your boys the burning question-- the question you don’t know if you can live without the answer to. pairings: jake kiszka x gn!reader, josh kiszka x gn!reader, danny wagner x gn!reader, and sam kiszka x gn!reader word count: 947 now playing: question..? – taylor swift “can i ask you a question?”

"how often do you think about the roman empire?"

the question pretty much haunts you after you saw it on tiktok, because it seems every man in everyone elses life thinks about the roman empire constantly.

so how often does your boy think about the roman empire? you decide to corner him and ask him one night, curious beyond belief.

when you ask jake, it's while he's fiddling with his guitar on the couch, while you read your book, and it's just eating at you.

"hey, jakey?"

he stops playing, turning his attention towards you-- it happens everytime he plays, he's so focused on his guitar until you speak, and then bam-- he's hanging on every word.

"yeah, angel?" what a dreamboat.

"i'm curious about something, and it's been kind of haunting me for a while.." you put your book down as his face becomes more and more concerned. "and i just.. i've got to know.. how often do you think of the roman empire?"

he answers almost immediately.

"at least twice a day."

"what?!"

"yeah, they created so much we use every day. the calender, sewers, aqueducts, roads. plus their mythology is very iconic."

you were not expecting that. but he's so pretty, you just laugh and lean against him.

"you're such a freak."

"you're so mean!" he pouts, "you asked the damn question!"

• • •

 when you ask josh, it's while he's distracted. okay, maybe you're the one making him distracted, because he's kissing your jaw, and your neck, biting and leaving hickeys. he's a man of many talents.

but you're just a teeny tiny out of it, thinking about your question.

"josh, can i ask you somethin?"

"mhm.." he doesn't stop kissing your neck, and he suddenly hits that sweet spot that makes you gasp.

"how -- fuck-- how often do you think about the roman empire?"

he hums again, continuing to kiss your neck and biting your collarbone.

"mhm.."

and you think he's fucking with you, so you push his head away from your neck to get his attention, and it makes him audibly whine.

"that's your answer?"

"uhm.." fuck, he looks good right now.

"you didn't even hear the question!" you laugh, and he takes this as an opportunity to kiss your neck again, and you just sort of melt, so your hand goes to his hair and you decide you can live with that answer until later.

he's just too fine to be mad at. especially when he's using his mouth like this.

• • •

when you ask danny, it's while you're playing with his hair, his insane curly and amazing hair. so while you're running your fingers through his hair, you get curious.

"hey handsome, how often do you think about the roman empire?"

there's a pause.

"baby, what the fuck are you talking about?" he laughs.

"what do you mean?! how often do you think about the roman empire, daniel?"

"like--" he laughs, "like never? i haven't thought about the roman empire since high school."

"were you even thinking about it then?"

"fuck no, i was either getting high with sam in the bathroom or writing song lyrics in the back of the room. i was absolutely thinking about everything that wasn't the roman empire."

he's pretty much the hottest man you've ever seen. and for some reason that answer is just hot. this is a man who was pretty much just floating through life until he became wildly successful and now he's just an attentive, humble, good man.

"well, i appreciate your answer, handsome."

"thanks."

you go back to playing with his hair while he just fiddles with a drum stick he has, twirling it around in his fingers. then he speaks again.

"well, okay, maybe i think about the roman empire like, once a month because jake mentions it all the time--" you laugh, leaning in to kiss his head.

• • •

when you ask sam, it's while he is very much distracted playing with rosie. you love watching them play, and he just has all this nervous energy for no reason, and when rosie senses that, she begins to wear him out.

when he catches you staring at him, he just grins to you, and begins to aggressively pet rosie.

"what is it, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing up to you. you take a moment to think before responding,

"sam, how often do you think about the roman empire?" you ask quizically.

this man looks perplexed. if you thought danny didn't pay attention in high school, sam was so much worse. he once tried to pass a bong off as an art project.

not that you can judge, what, with the horrible adhd that you were diagnosed with in high school.

"the real question is, how often does the roman empire think of me?" he asks, and it makes you laugh so much harder than you thought it would. he is so god damn funny, and you know he loves to make you laugh.

he gets up from his position with rosie and sits next to you, pulling you close to him.

"how often do you think about me?" he flirts. he's so goofy, and it makes you hit him lightly on the chest.

"samuel, we're married."

"yeah, but do you think about me? dream about me? fantasize about me?" he teases, and it makes you get up from your spot and whistle over to rosie.

"c'mon rose, lets go get a drink and let daddy cool off. he's being a sleaze."

"hey! don't talk bad about me to our baby!"

"why don't you go flirt with the roman empire, samuel?"

[msanimedolphin]

~Back In The Game~

~Chapter Twenty-Six~

-Series Masterlist-

What happens when a girl who loves volleyball joins a boys' volleyball club? Does she find love? Will she relive her past or move forward? Join (L/N) (Y/N) on a journey with fun twists and turns.

I don't own Haikyuu or any of the characters.

-Last Time-

“Hinata, you little squirt! Don’t butt in like that!! You totally ruined my chance to say something cool!!!” You giggle at them. The whistle is blown indicating the start of the next rally.

The Municipal Team serves and Ennoshita receives the ball. He calls for cover from Kageyama while Ukai thinks about how everybody needs to work on bumps and passing. Kageyama runs to get into position to set along with Hinata coming to his spot.

‘Hm. He figured out quickly where the ball would be coming down. First step is confident and correct.’ Ukai thinks about Kageyama. ‘This setter’s supposed to be a rookie, right? So. Who’s he going to use…’ Ukai’s thought is answered as he sees Hinata jump.

Ukai, Takinoue, Shimada, Ashai, and Noya stare at Hinata. They are shocked by how fast and high he can jump. Hinata hits the ball and earns his team a point.

“Yeah!! Nice one, Hinata! Kageyama!” Tanaka praises.

Noya, Asahi, and Ukai are left with their mouths agape. Suga is looking at Asahi and Noya expectantly, while Takeda is looking at Ukai the same way. You have a look of pride as you see their reactions.

“Whoa!! Shoyo, that was awesome!! So awesome even I couldn't help but stop and stare!” Noya praises excitedly as the first-year blushes.

‘There were no hand signs. No verbal cues. And they still…?!’ Ukai thinks before speaking. “Hey, you!!” He yells causing Hinata to flinch and he and Kageyama to look at the coach. “Why did you jump where you did?! How did you know?! Short Stuff!”

“Short…?” Hinata begins. “Well… I just jump wherever I want, because the ball always comes wherever I am. Coach.”

‘...!! My eyes don’t wanna believe it, but I know I saw it. When Short Stuff jumped, his eyes were closed. Are you telling me that rookie setter was able to match his set to his movements that perfectly?!’ Ukai is shocked. ‘And how can he be so completely sure the ball is always going to be there? What normal player can trust so much that he’ll jump and swing totally blind?’

“YOU TWO FREAKS OR SOMETHIN’?!” Ukai yells at Hinata and Kageyama.

“Freaks…?” They respond simultaneously. Tsukishima chuckles.

“Why?” Hinata asks.

“Don’t ask me.” Kageyama replies.

“At first I didn’t get what that whole conversation right before the game was about…” Ukai begins, getting you and Takeda’s attention. “But…I think I see now. So that rookie setter’s likely a prodigy of some sort. Compared to a player like him…the normal slobs have to feel inferior. But… A set and a spike happen in less time than a single breath.” He continues as the game resumes. “Players need a whole lot of hours working together to get that kind of timing down. Faith like that isn’t something you can build in a day. So if we say what our rookie setter has is overwhelming talent… then what his senior there has is years of trust and stability.” He observes each of the players before beginning again. “This Karasuno team is pretty dang good!” 

‘Took you long enough.’ You think with a chuckle.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, sensei?” Ukai asks Takeda with a pat on the back, while you roll your eyes.

“I did. Multiple times.”

The game continues with Ukai’s attention refocusing on Hinata.

“Who woulda thought short stuff would be a middle blocker just from looking? He’s got a mean quick attack… but how’s his blocking?” Hinata is standing by the net getting ready to block. Asahi is standing across from him and notices his intense stare. This makes Ashai avert his gaze. 

“Oh, come to think of it, this game is Hinata’s first chance to play against the ace position that he’s idolized so much.” Takeda points out.

“Hm?”

“Well, you see, Hinata’s idol is a player called “The Little Giant.” He was someone who played during Karasuno’s golden age. That’s why he chose to attend Karasuno, too. He is always giving his best, saying that someday he’s going to be an ace too. And now in this game, Hinata gets to face off with Karasuno’s current reigning Ace!”

“Now isn’t that neat. Though from this angle, it looks a lot like a grown man playing an elementary kid.” Ukai replies. This makes you slightly laugh as you look at the two. You see Suga uses a hand signal for Asahi. ‘Probably telling him the kind of set he’s going to use.’ You think.

Hinata looks at Asahi with such concentration that it’s a bit scary. Karasuno serves and Noya receives it, passing it to Suga. Suga sets it to Ashai. ‘A shoot.’ You think. Asahi jumps and gets ready to spike but is surprised when he sees Hinata in front of him in the air, ready to block.

‘He popped up out of nowhere!!’ Asahi thinks.

Asahi spikes the ball and it hits Hinata’s hand with great force. The ball ricotes off of Hinata’s hand and goes behind him. Daichi and Tsukishima run to save the ball from hitting the ground but neither make it in time. The ball hits the floor earning a point for the Municipal Team. Asahi watches as Daichi talks to Hinata.

“...I knew he could jump, but it’s really shocking to see him pop up right in front of my face like that. How high can he go?” Asahi says to himself.

“That was awesome!” Hinata says looking at his red and stinging hands. “And he hasn’t played for a month!” You smile fondly at the first year.

“Yo, Hinata!” Kageyama begins. “You’re using your hands wrong when you block! If you’re trying to stop them, your hands go like this!” He demonstrates. “See? Like this!” Hinata doesn’t pay attention to Kageyama because he’s too focused on watching Asahi. “Are you even listening to me, boke?!” Since Hinata still wasn’t paying attention, Kageyama started squeezing his head. ‘At least Kageyama tried helping him…’ You think.

“Kageyama, you’re going to hurt him…” You say worryingly. Kageyama stops squeezing Hinata’s head and just stares at him.

“Hey…” Kageyama begins but is interrupted by Hinata.

“Man, the Ace is awesome!! He can hit the ball so hard it doesn’t matter if there’s a block! It’s still gonna smash through and score a point!”

“...”

“? What?”

“Nothing.” Kageyama says walking away.

“?”

“We’re running out of time, so let’s dive right into the second set, everyone.” Daichi says. The game continues. Hinata starts staring at Asahi and gets lost in his thoughts.

‘...If I was as tall and strong as he is…then I could…Whoa whoa whoa!’ Hinata starts shaking his head. ‘Don’t think about that. The Little Giant was awesome and short too! Though he was taller than me. Still…’

“Asahi!!” Someone calls out for Asahi to spike.

‘That’s so cool…’

“?! Hinata!!” You and Daichi call out at the same time.

“Huh?” Hinata snaps out of it and sees the ball flying toward him. Before he could react, the ball hit him straight in the face, causing him to fly backward.

“?! That idiot!!” Kageyama yells.

“AAAA” Asahi yells, frightened.

“GAAAH!!” Tanka yells worriedly.

“HINATA!!!” You scream, quickly running over to him.

~To Be Continued~

[nutzworth]

its been a whole month. but you know what time it is? thats right.

DAY 6: MARCH 17, 2024

STATS: read for 1 hour 20 minutes (WEAK.) pages read: 1359-1592. 233 pgs slur count: 9 + 3 = 12 (dave, john x2. r slur) silly count: 11 + 1 = 12 (wv about his drawings) (i REALLY feel like i missed some... but whatever.) piss count: 2/3 (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (dave pissed in his shower)

THOUGHTS: ok i didnt think a lot this round cus its like nearing midnight on a school night so im reading for funsies ok

act 4 has the story bouncing around way more than it did in previous acts. i saw a lot of the exiles today. and a lot of TROLLS! the exiles are so fun today i saw some pm and ar lore and wv pm ar all fought and then they had a meal. and wv and ar are trying to win over pm but she dont care. the WOMEN. panel. so good.

somethin else i reaaally noticed this time around is HOW GOOD HUSSIE WRITES! seriously these kids are talking so naturally its insane. i really like it. theyre so cute. they talk like me and my friends and its really good. hussies a really good writer guys

why did dave say that "i should probably text [john] soon. cus. i love him" why did he say that? and rose's "I know." why? what? im sure this has been read into like a million times but it feels so OUT OF POCKET. why did he SAY THAT? why does rose KNOW? what is anything.

today was the introduction to rose's exile and land. the land of light and rain. the combination of the land and the weird cursive exile and the weird loneliness and silence just really... it really creeps me out ok. "A mother does what's best for her children" with the empty dock with a cut rope and the martini. ugh. "There are footprints in the white sand." oh my god. IT CREEPS ME OUT. its SO QUIET it freaks me. augh. i love you rose

DAVE PEED THIS ROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the next (and last) on the piss counter is in the middle of act 6 so were gonna be sitting pretty for a damn while. daves kind of a freak to be real. he says "voyeurbot" and "little girl" in the same sentence. why did he say this?

PA HARLEY. PA HARLEY ON LAND OF WIND AND SHADE!!!! WOOOOOO!!!!!!!! oh oh aaaalso jade mentioned her penpal (JAKE!!!) and it got me a little excited. teehee. i looove jake english you dont even know

ummm dave entering the game... hes not in yet. but hes toying with his big machines and he got his totem and the object out. his egg. yeah. i didnt realize he was just playing with all this stuff and hes not even in the medium yet. craaaazy

WE SAW TEREZI THREE TIMES TODAY! THATS SO MUCH! SHES SO CUTE! i literally love terezi i always forget but i love her. shes so cool and silly and cute and the best. her convo with rose (her first one?) is so funny and awesome and ahh i love terezi. she says that the two of them were destined to be hatebuddies cus theyre both seers. ahhh

she also mentions some god tiers during that convo which was crazy. seer of mind. page of breath. knight of blood. maid of time. hussie just had this stuff on lock huh. why TAVROS'S classpect? not like vriskas? i dont know man.

karkat was so dumb today i cant even talk about him. he showed up twice and fumbled so bad. girl you havw GOT to stop being mean to people and yes that includes yourself. i really like karkat too i cant lie. hes so dumb so sweet. i love you karkat

jack noir just straight up gives pm a hit list for her king and queen for no reason. i mean yes there is a reason hes like "lol i do this to everyone wouldnt it be crazy if she was the one to get me their crowns lol" why does he do that? does he just have swords and symbols on lock? hes literally crazy

rose does her cool knitting needle in the monster thing. DAVE AND KANAYA CONVERSATION! i love them bad. rose and tavros is also funny but tavros types so much like a tool i can hardly stand it. im gonna be real i dont really like tavros. hes just not my style sorry

thats it sorry for not reading for a month. maybe ill do more this month haha. maybe maybe not. we will see ;-) thanks

[slashingdisneypasta]

Jim Bickerman x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You pick up a stray, much to your roommate Reba’s frustrations.

Warnings: Mentions of a dead crocodile, post-crocodile dinner Jim (alive, though, obviously), mention of hospitals, drinking, some sexual references and- once again, unknown character from a movie no one cares about 😅

You’re exhausted. The day’s events, at what you can only describe as crystal lake on meth, had totally taken it out of you and all you can do as Reba drives you both away from the mess finally, is rest your forehead on the car window and stare outside. It’s a few good, peaceful minutes, before either of you attempt to make conversation.

“… I hate that place.” Reba speaks up, shaking her head when you lift yours off the glass for a moment to see her. “But- at least I got somethin’ out of it this time, eh?” She grins, gesturing with a thumb to the back of the truck- which is not taking the weight of the giant fucking dead croc she took as a souvenir and lulls heavily on the back wheels and dangerously close to the road. Its also why the truck is moving far slower, then usual.

You smirk, too tired to create an actual smile, before shaking your head back at her and returning your temple to the cool glass of the window. “Classy,”

“You know it.”

For a few more miles you drive silently, just putting yourselves back together after the hell-day almost getting eaten by giant motherfucker crocodiles. But then you catch sight of something on the side of the road ahead of you both. Lifting your head off the glass, you narrow your eyes and squint at it. What is that?? A pile of trash??

But… no… its moving.

When you get close enough to realise it’s a person, a terrible injured person, you jump fully off the truck door and hit the handle. “Reba! Stop!”

“What?!”

“Stop the truck! Right here!”

“Alright, alright, but what the hell are yo- … “When Reba catches sight of the lump on the side of the road that you’re freaking out about after stopping the vehicle, she freezes immediately. She focuses on it. Then narrows her eyes for a moment.

… then groans, dropping her head back on the back of her seat. “Bickerman.”

“What?” You whip your head around and squint at the, now much closer, lump. Bickerman? Jim Bickerman? That crazy guy from earlier?? You wondered what had happened to him…

“Jimmy. Yah. He musta gotten a little close to one a’ those monsters… “She presses her lips firmly together and shakes her head, almost sympathetic. But then- “Well, sucks to be him. Can we go?- “

“Wha- No, Reba! Come on, help me.” You exclaim, throwing the truck open on your side and hopping out- while she hangs back a moment longer in order to lament about having a bath.

Its not long before you have his more obvious wounds tied up tight and have got him semi-standing, leading - or more like carrying, seeing as he’s barely conscious, -  the old man to the truck. When Reba notices you’re heading to the seats, she gives a groan.

“I just got this truck… he’s gonna stain the seats!”

“Would you prefer to unload the croc in the back?” You ask, knowing the answer as you quickly assess the gaping hole in Jim’s face where one of his eyes used to be, wince and look away.

… Reba gives another groan. “No… “

“Great- now- help me!! I’m hauling deadweight, here, and he’s gonna fall.”

“Oh- shit!”

~

The ride to the nearest hospital is still about 45 minutes- in a truck that isn’t carrying a gazillion tons of dead crocodile. So its about an hour before you arrive, all the while you try to get Jim to stay semi-conscious.

“Hey- don’t fall asleep on me now, we just met!”

“Jim, what’s your middle name?”

“Think fast! What’s 3 times 12?”

“If you die now you won’t, uh… uh… do- do you like sports? You wont get to see the, um, the team win! The team, uh- that you like. That one. Wouldn’t that suck??”

Most of the time he just mumbled back, a little crazily, and you didn’t quite catch exactly what it was he said- but then he would have moments of clarity every 20 minutes or so. At some point his still-intact hand ended up on your thigh and he chuckled.

You just picked it up and squeezed it.

You didn’t put it down again until the doctors were wheeling him away.

~

“… yes he’ll be fine, but we’ve had to remove a foot entirely and he’s got a good amount of stitches. He’s going to need prosthetics and walking is going to be a struggle- he’s conscious now, though, would you like to see him?”

“Ye- “You’re about to nod and follow the doctor down the hall to Jim’s room, but Reba grabs your upper arm and yanks you away fast- which you didn’t see coming. “Hey! Why- ow- “

“Oh, no. Excuse us, doc.” Giving the doctor a wink, Reba guides you to a sidebar and lets you go in order to cross her arms and give you the most ‘what are you thinking??’ type of look you have ever seen. It honestly boggles you and you stand there with wide, confused eyes. Huh?? “We should not go see him.”

“Why not?”

“We already brought him here, we saved his life- which is nicer then we really needed to treat him. Now we can go home.”

“Just one visit won’t hurt… just to see how he’s going??”

“No- it will hurt! It’ll hurt me! You adopt every damn stray you find on the side of the road- we still have a chicken with anger issues that I cant get to leave our backyard.” Well, you think. That’s not fair- Terrence doesn’t have anger issues, he’s just passionate. And… he maybe thinks Reba is his hen. A fact you refuse to ever tell her… “And that malnourished sausage dog you brought home the other day keeps giving me ‘I’m gonna kill you in your sleep’ eyes.” Alright, Macadamia Nut does have some issues. “I can’t handle a grown ass man with crazy eyes, too.”

Giving a short laugh, you try to just brush away Reba’s insistence. “Don’t be silly, I’m not gonna adopt Jim.”

“Silly?? Oh- Look, you take one step towards that room, and I’ll leave you here Y/N! I’m not kidding, here!! I’m dead serious. look in my eyes, now.”

Instead of looking into Reba’s own crazy eyes, you hesitantly glance down the hall- towards the room the doctor went back into, and consider how expensive a cab would be from here.

… then you sigh, defeated. It would cost a fortune. “Fine… lets go home… “

Reba grins and pats your back, leading you out to the parking lot. “That’s what I thought.”

~

Its months later when Reba sees Jim next. You’re having a few drinks out with Reba after she got promoted to Sheriff when he walks by, sees you both, and wanders over. As soon as you see him your eyes widen, but you stay quiet- looking to Reba for her first moves.

… luckily, tequila makes her friendly. “Oh- Jimmy!! You’re alive, huh?? And walkin- that new foot treatin’ ya well??”

Jim’s good eye wanders to you, even as he exchanged small talk with Reba, a wonky grin on his haggard face, and you try to ignore him. “Good as it can, I guess.”

“And that hook! Man, how’re you signin’ check’s now?”

“Don’t get a whole lotta checks these days, I’m stayin’ away from the poaching business. Not like I can move as well as I useta, you know?” With this, he flicks at the hook in question like see? this is why. Then he goes right back to assessing you, setting his good hand on the back of your chair and leaning into it.

“Good call.” Reba winks, not seeming to notice his affections as she takes a shot of tequila. “You know what?? Siddown, Jim, drink with us! We’re celebratin’, afterall.”

Oh no. Jim gives a big grin at her, before taking the seat between you both. “Hm! Don’t mind if I do. Thanks for the kind offer.”

“No problem! Barkeep!!” Reba taps the table the 3 of you are sitting at quickly and turns to the bar- that’s quite close. She said it would be wise, this evening, to stick close to where the alcohol is kept. “Another round, please, for me, my quiet roommate, and our acquaintance.”

“I’m not quiet, Reba, I’m just not as drunk as you.” You lie, giggling and looking away when she points a stern finger at you. Instead of try to figure out what she means by that in her alcoholic language, you turn bravely to Jim instead. “So, how many drinks are you on? This is my second, and Reba… I think that’s her 6th coming now- I think.”

“7th! Gimmie some credit.”

“Oookay.” You agree, before showing Jim 6 fingers when Reba looks away towards her coming tequila sunrise. Its 6.

He winks, at least you think it’s a wink, and gives a rough-looking grin. “I haven’t started yet, actually, but I do think I can do better then that. And I can get you drinkin’ some more, too.”

“I have to be the responsible one around here. No, you can’t.”

“We’ll see, honey, we’ll see. After all~… we did finish my stash last night together. Oh, maybe that’s got somethin’ to do with you goin’ slow??” His grin is now utterly mischievous as your eyes widen and Reba turns slowly to the two of you again. No! Why! She wasn’t supposed to know, Jim!- Squinting, she tries to pull her thoughts together.

“You… wait, what do you mean you finished a stash together last night?? You’re not supposed to… you haven’t been… “ As you shrink down into your seat a little, Reba turns fully to you. “You went back to the hospital!??”

“Yes.” The word comes out more like a ‘y’ sound followed consecutively by an ‘s’ sound rather than a full word as you avoid her eyes and attempt to disappear.

“How many times!?” She exclaims, mind boggled.

“Just… a couple… of times… “You shrug, helplessly.

“Regularly. My sweet pumpkin here visited me regularly- didn’t ya sweetheart?” At this remark, you give Jim a wuthering glare- though, you don’t really mean it and he knows that as he shrugs and turns around quietly to order himself a beer.

“I cannot believe it- You’re dating this creep?? That’s where you’ve been all those nights?? Damn- “ As you sit there and listen to her, she picks up another tequila shot and downs it. She seems to calm, after that, wrapping her mind around this. Or, resign herself as she pours herself another shot. “I was hopin’ it was drugs, honestly, easier to swallow.”

This is the part where Jim wants to jump back in, a joke about swallowing on the tip of his tongue but you stop him quickly with a raised finger. “Nope- drink your beer.”

Chuckling, he obediently raises the cold beer to his mouth. “If you insist~ … “

“Ugh,” After taking a sip of the tequila straight out the bottle and shaking her head, Reba gets up from the table. “I’m- I’m gonna need somethin’ harder than this. Be right back. And- do me a favour? Get out all your gross, couple-y affections, while I’m gone, will ya? Thanks. I don’t needa be seein’ that.”

As Reba walks the short distance away to the bar, you quickly take the opportunity to turn and just raise your eyebrows at Jim. Expectantly. Like,… so?? What is up? What was that? Are you out of your mind???

… he just shrugs, still beyond amused at the chaos he created. “What?”

 Slowly, a devious smirk slides across your lips. “Ahhh- I get it.”

“What? What do you get?” That sobers him, as he lowers the beer bottle to the table and frowns at you.

“You’re secretly kinda sweet, huh?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Now we don’t have to hide from Reba.” You explain, picking up your own drink. “We can be together more, now. Don’t have to hide out in your cabin. I see what you did.”

Jim sputters, actually sputters, looking wide eyed and surprised at your allegation. “N- No no no, that’s not that I was doing. I was just trynta, uhh… “

“Very cute.”

“Excuse me, miss. I did not- “

“Okay.”

Jim stops, levels with you, and looks just a devious. “Hold on- what are we doing, here?”

“I'm teasing you for having it so so bad, for me??”

“Your friend said to get out all our gross, couple-y affections while she was gone. I think we still have some time… why dontcha give daddy some sugar, hm?”

[countrymusiclover]

28 - Normal Family Feel

Part 29

Texas Romance

Tags - @supernaturalgirl30 @bvbwestfall @bubble-blu @patriciaplictisita

"That was your dad wasn't it?" Shoving my chair back I collapsed into his waiting embrace letting his arms. "I don't know what I should do, Georgie!"

Someone gently moved my shoulder trying to wake me up but I grumbled too comfortable laying in the bed. Aurora was a nightly terror again and if I get out of the bed it means I have to start deciding if I can not follow my parents to mu father's new job. "Y/n, come on. I wanna show you somethin'." Georgie whispered still shaking my shoulder.

"Georgie..." I grumbled rolling onto my back holding a hand over my face. Squinting one eye open seeing him sitting at the foot of the bed in his meemaw's spare room that she gave me.

He takes my freehand in his giving me puppy dog eyes knowing I would cave everytime he did. "I'll take you out to get tator tots." Rolling over onto my side I crawled out of the bed throwing on a blue sweatshirt following him outside where he covered my eyes with one hand and his other was making sure I didn't fall. "Suprise!"

"You got another car. Didn't you learn with the van?" Blinking my eyes to adjust to the light I saw a car with a long backseat.

He pointed to the car holding his hands up in surrender. "I promise this is a rat free car, darlin'." Glancing over his shoulder my eyes kept searching just in case as he explained. "And these things are real safe too. My mom has one. When I was little and she hit an ice cream truck. I didn't even wake up."

Crossing my arms over my chest I tilted my head up smiling at my - well I'm not sure what I should call him anymore. "I can't believe you sold your Mustang for our babygirl." Leaning up on my toes I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him. He puts one hand on my waist smiling into the kiss until I broke it looking at my feet.

"What's wrong?" He asked slightly already knowing the answer.

Throwing my head back I slumped my shoulders sighing heavily. "It's just...nevermind. You don't have to worry about me. Let's go get something to eat. I'll buy pizza for dinner."

Georgie got in the driver's seat and I got in the front so the drive was mostly silent. Looking out the window I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. I shouldn't let my father getting a new job weigh on me but it's not like I went off to college...I got pregnant before graduation. A few seconds later I felt a hand on my knee making me turn my head slightly in Georgie's direction. His eyes held concern knowing what was running through my mind. "I'm here for ya, you know that right. Whatever you decide. I'll be here."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." I smiled intertwined my hand with his before he turned his head forward pulling into the parking lot of a movie store unbuckiling his seatbelt turning to face me. "What's going on, Georgie?"

He rubbed the back of his neck clearly nervous as we entered the video store passing the shelves. Glancing around I heard the front door get closed and the sheriff exited the building smiling in our direction which was a little weird. He slowly opened the closed door then closed it behind us so when I turned around I gasped seeing a bunch of gambling machines in the whole back room. Almost all the machines have a person at them with the sound of coins flipping quickly through. "Woah I was not expecting this - do the cops know about this. Is it legal - Georgie you can't go to jail again."

"Before you freak out. No its not legal. But the police are okay with it." He holds his hands up in front of him in an attempt to defend himself before I freaked out.

"What is she doin' back here?" Connie walked up looking to her grandson then to me slightly concerned.

Glancing to Georgie he pointed his index finger at me still waiting on my reaction to the secret gambling room. "I thought she deserved to know where my money is comin' from. Her father has a new job and she's tryin' to decide and everythin'. I didn't like lying to her anymore..." He slumped his shoulders taking my hand in his feeling the wedding ring back on my hand trying to not get too excited over it. "Please don't be angry, Y/n."

"Georgie, I - this is insane...is this how you paid the hospital bills for my pregnancy. And before I got my job back with Dale." I paused knowing that I should be mad but if he was doing stuff to make money it proves that he meant he would be there for me like always. That he wasn't hooking up with other girls like I thought...that I simply overrated about my high school sweetheart. "I wanna stay...I...I messed up. I'm...I'm sorry." Flinging my arms around his neck he smiled gently wrapping his arms around my waist hugging me against his chest.

Picking up some pizza a few hours later Sheldon came out of his room rushing to the kitchen. His parents were out on their own things tonight leaving us to watch the kids. I actually got Missy to watch Aurora for a little bit. Entering Sheldon's room I saw Georgie sitting on his bed holding a bucket between his legs as it rained outside. His brother was concerned with a leak in the ceiling. "What's he got you doing in here exactly?"

"I'm babysittin' and this is the only way I can get my brother to eat. What's up, darlin'?" He replied before I plopped down to sit beside him on the bed.

Running a hand through my hair I lay my head lazily on his shoulder. He leans his head against mine. "I just wanted to apologize for how I reacted with Veronica. It was silly of me to think that you only said you loved me so I'd sleep with you. I want a - I'm just really sorry Georgie." He nodded leaning more into my touch enjoying the comfortable silence until we heard footsteps approach.

"Status report?" Sheldon appears in the doorway looking at the ceiling.

Georgie glanced down to the bucket he was holding then back to his brother. "Dry as a bone."

"So I have time for a second slice?" He asked before leaving the room.

I chuckled tilting my head down for a second smiling at his silliness. "Have three or four if you want kiddo. We'll stand watch. Go nuts."

"If Rora's weird. I'm ready." Georgie responded smiling playfully my way making me giggle at his words leaning into his side. He lifted his right hand up to my cheek leaning forward kissing me for the first time in a long time.

Melting into his touch I moved one of my hands into his hair twisting it in between my fingers deepening the kiss. He smiled into it cradling my face in his hand still holding onto the bucket with his other hand. "Speaking of our daughter I was thinking about something..." He broke the kiss until I pulled him back in for another one climbing into his lap where he struggled to not drop the bucket. "I - wanna - have - another - baby." I mumbled in between kisses.

Georgie suddenly broke it horror and shock written on his face where he dropped the bucket on the ground placing his other hand on my thigh stuttering out. "Y/n you - are you serious?"

To be continued....

Let me know you're thoughts or ideas in the comments

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[rainbow-string-tied-me-to-you]

Lyrics from 1989TV Vault that made me feel insane

Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool/What if all I need is you? (The "Need" usage in 1989tv is gonna kill me, I swear)

Love thorns all over this rose/I’ll pay the price, you won't (DOUBLE STANDARDS AHHHHHHHHHHH)

And if they call me a slut/You know it might be worth it for once (STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW, TAYLOR MOTHER FREAKING SWIFT)

Everyone wants him, that was my crime (GOLD RUSH AHHHHH)

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman (YEAH, HE IS. THAT'S MY BOY. Also, Taylor can never drag Harry without saying something nice first lmao)

I've known it from the very start/We’re a shot in the darkest dark (HELLO, GETAWAY CAR???)

I’m standin' on a tightrope alone/I hold my breath a little bit longer (Not the mirrorball reference)

'Cause you kiss mе and it stops time/And I'm yours, but you're not mine (KILLED ME, I'M DEAD ON THE FLOOR)

I'm tryna see the cards that you won't show/I'm about to fold unless you (FINE LINE REFERENCE AHHH)

I said, "I love you" (I said, "I love you")/You say nothing back (HARRY FREAKING STYLES, YOU MASSIVE DONUT)

You went to a party/I heard from everybody/You part the crowd like the Red Sea (She said "Moses")

Remind myself the morе I gave, you'd want me less (STOP, I'M ALREADY DEAD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

I cannot bе your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost/And what it cost, now that we don't talk (To be so lonely parallelssjnckjsdbnjsd)

What do you tell your friends we/Shared dinners, long weekends with? (REMINDED ME OF CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS' "How evergreen our group of friends/Don't think we'll ever say that word again")

I don't have to pretend I like acid rock/Or that I'd like to be on a mega yacht/With important men who think important thoughts (YACHT GATE)

You had people who called you on unmarked numbers/In my peripheral vision/I let it slide like a hose on a slippery plastic summer (HARRY YOU SON OF A BTCH!!! Also, reminded me of that scene from blank space mv)

You were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious (GORGEOUS AND GOLD RUSH PARALLELS)

When you hold me, it holds me together/And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever (Wtf Taylor?? 😭😭😭)

I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs/Would surprise the whole school/When I ended up back at our class reunion/Walkin' in with you (AhHhHhHhHhHhHh there's still time please 😭😭😭 Also, someday parallels with the lyrics "Someday maybe when we're old and gray/We could be in love once more/'Til then I won't give my love away/Darling, I'm forever only yours) I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it (I'm gonna off myself)

I dash to the door/You don't knock anymore and my whole life's ruined (hits different parallels "I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway/Is that your key in the door?/Is it okay? Is it you?/Or have they come to take me away?/To take me away" I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters (the 1 parallels)

You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor/You search in every model's bed for somethin' greater, baby (JDK VKJD KS KJNSVDKKJDBVKJSFN HE'S DEAD AGAIN)

Whеn you lost control (Uh-huh)/Red blood, white snow (Uh-huh)/Blue dress on a boat (Uh-huh)/Your new girl is my clone (HARRY STYLES SHOT DEAD AGAIN)

Oh, Lord, I think about jumpin'/Off of very tall somethings/Just to see you come running/And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no (Oh my god she said suicide just to spite you)

If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her (Oh no) (THE FACTS AHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHHA)

[skullythefriendlyskullface]

A Turtles Guide to Escaping Midtown Precinct South: Part Two

Click here to start at the beginning!

//

If you find yourself arrested by the NYPD and placed in a holding cell, don’t expect help from the police, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, and whatever you do, don’t panic.

Raph struggled against the four officers who dragged him into the police station. They had his arms locked between theirs so that he couldn’t move them at all. He kicked at their legs, trying to land a hit on their kneecaps, but these officers were well-trained and nimbly avoided his thrashing feet.

“When I get outta here, I’m gonna shove my feet so far up your asses, you’re all gonna be walking on crutches for weeks!” he yelled at them.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, freak,” one of them sneered.

They stopped at a processing desk, where a wiry, middle-age woman stood, accompanied by two armed police officers. One of the officers began patting down his clothes, starting at his chest.

“Hey!” Raph said, kicking about fruitlessly. “Get your hands –!”

Pain erupted in his side, cutting him short. A stun gun. Unlike the taser, which had locked up all the muscles in his body, this felt like a thousand tiny needles digging into his plastron. The pain subsided almost as quickly as it came, leaving him gasping for air.

The officers continued their search. “One cell phone, I think,” one of them said as they pulled out Raph’s shell cell from his belt, “and two… uh, whatever these are,” as he pulled out his sais. Having found nothing else, he ripped off his mask and sunglasses, too. As much as Raph would have liked to protest, he was still struggling just to breathe again. The officers handed his belongings to the woman, who placed them in a plastic bin, then the cops dragged him away to another room.

Ahead of them, Raph could see a wire cage with about ten other people inside. A police officer unlocked the cage and instructed the detainees to step back. The cops shoved him into the cage with enough force to knock him to the ground, and by the time he stood up and bolted to the door, they had slammed it shut in his face.

Raph banged his fists against the wire. “Let me outta here, right now!” he screamed. He knew that yelling at the police wasn’t going to increase the chances of them being nice and opening the door for him, but at this point, he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Talk to the judge, slappy!” one of the cops said.

“In the meantime, enjoy your stay at Midtown Precinct South!” another called back as they walked away.

The reality of his situation sank in. Locked in a holding cell with no way out. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the last time he was imprisoned he at least had his brothers with him to come up with an escape plan. Now, he was alone.

Well, not completely alone. Raph wearily glanced at the other detainees. Some of them looked like ordinary people, somewhat disheveled, eyes red and puffy from crying; a few of them had tattoos and mean mugs that screamed “gang members.” Outside the holding cell, a single police officer sat in a chair in the corner of the room with a copy of the New York Times in his hands. Everyone scrutinized Raph, their faces displaying a wide variety of expressions ranging from amazement to fear.

That was another thing that made his detainment different from the one on the Triceraton homeworld: he didn’t exactly fit in. Although no one said a word, he could practically read their thoughts – he was a freak, an alien, a threat.

One of the convicts, a large hulking man with tattoos on his fingers that read “PAIN,” finally got over his shock and stalked over to Raph, cracking his knuckles. “You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya, ET?” he said, smirking.

“Wow, never heard that one before,” Raph said, rolling his eyes. “You xenophobic types come with a script or somethin’?”

The man sloppily swung his fist and Raph dodged out of the way. He threw another punch, which Raph blocked with his forearm. It was enough to make the man lose his balance and send him crashing into the walls of the cage.

Raph quickly glanced at the officer in the room. He had opened his newspaper and was reading it with a bored look on his face. Weren’t cops supposed to break up fights between detainees? This officer didn’t seem interested in the chaos that was erupting in the holding cell, however. Not that Raph needed help defending himself; it simply would have been nice to know that someone else cared about his safety.

His attacker raised his fist again, ready to strike a third time. Suddenly, another convict shot out between them, arms outstretched to protect Raph. “Hey man, leave him alone,” he said.

The larger man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Outta my way,” he growled. Then he shoved him aside, slamming him into the walls.

Heat grew in Raph’s chest. “Hey! Keep the fight between us, ugly!” he shouted. He lunged forward and landed a punch on the man’s sternum, another on his jaw, and a kick to the crown of his head. The hulking man teetered for a few seconds before plummeting to the ground.

A slamming noise came from behind. The police officer had hit his baton against the cage walls. “No fighting in there,” he warned.

“Oh, now you wanna get involved?” Raph grumbled under his breath.

Two of the other gang members helped the man up to his feet, and he brushed them off as if he were embarrassed that he needed help to stand. He glared threateningly at Raph and spat a mixture of blood and saliva at his feet. “I won’t go easy on you next time,” he said.

“Ooh, I’m shakin’,” Raph said. He was playing with fire by making a sarcastic quip like that, but he didn’t care. The longer he was locked in this cage, the more he itched for a fight.

The other detainee who had tried to defend him slowly pushed himself onto his feet, gripping the wire walls for support. Raph grabbed him under the armpit and helped him up the rest of the way. “You okay?” he asked.

The man wiped at the dribble of blood that leaked from his nose. “Yeah, I’ll be alright,” he said.

Raph felt a stab of pity. He doubted he’d get any help from the police officer, but nonetheless he asked him, “You mind getting some tissues for this guy or something?”

“It’s just a nosebleed,” the officer said. “He’s fine.”

There were a couple of choice words Raph had to say to the cop, but none of them were going to improve his situation, so he held back his tongue. Instead, he turned back to the man. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, “for stickin’ up for me.” If he were honest, this guy was about as useful as a pair of wet socks, but he wasn’t going to say that to his face. After all, this man seemed to be the only person there looking out for him, so he deserved to be treated with politeness.

“Don’t mention in,” he said. Then he stuck out his hand. “Norman Brooks, by the way.”

“Raphael,” he said, shaking his hand.

For a few minutes, they stood in silence at the edge of the cage, keeping to themselves and ignoring the side glances that came their way. Raph examined Norman, taking care to not make it obvious that he was staring, for lack of a better word. Norman was a scrawny black man who looked only a few years older than Casey, and he was dressed in a plain t-shirt and baggy jeans. Not the kind of person he would have expected to see in a cell.

“What do they got you in here for?” Norman asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Tax evasion, assaultin’ a police officer,” Raph said. “Existing. You?”

“DWI,” he replied. The disgust on Raph’s face must have been obvious because Norman quickly said, “Don’t give me that look. It was a technicality. I was at a party and had a few drinks alright? Next thing I know, I can’t find my wallet or my cellphone. I couldn’t get a taxi, a subway, a hotel… the only thing I had was my car.”

As he went on, he grew more and more agitated. “I wasn’t plannin’ on driving, I swear. I just needed a place to sleep it off, ya know? It was cold as shit; I had the engine running and the heater on so I wouldn’t freeze to death. A cop came by, took me out of my car, and arrested me. I tried explainin’ everything to him, but he wouldn’t fuckin’ listen, man. Said that sleepin’ in your car with the engine on was technically a DWI. I didn’t even know that was a thing! I promise, I’m not a bad person. Hell, I’m a financial advisor!”

“Hey, it’s alright. I believe you,” Raph said gently.

Norman took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Well, you know how it is. ‘That’s a bear we all gotta cross.’” He looked at Raph as if he were waiting for him to laugh. “You know, from MASH?” Raph shook his head. “You’ve never seen MASH? It’s one of the greatest shows ever made!”

Raph shrugged. “I’ve seen a few episodes on reruns, but I haven’t watched all of it. That show was before my time.”

Right after the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them. “‘Before your time?’” Norman said, peering at him. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”

Raph shifted uncomfortably under his persistent gaze. “Why do you care?” he said, making his voice as deep and tough-sounding as possible.

“You’re just a kid, ain’t ya?” Norman said solemnly. His expression softened to one of pity. “And the cops got you in an adult holdin’ cell. Figures.”

He said it like they had done this before. “Does that happen a lot?” Raph asked tentatively.

“More than it should,” Norman replied, leaning his head back against the wall. “Five years ago, they got my nephew for trespassin’ private property. Held him in an adult holdin’ cell for thirty-six hours. He was seventeen. And back when my daddy was a kid, same thing happened to him, only he was sixteen.”

Same age as me, Raph thought.

“That’s the messed-up thing about the world we live in, I guess,” Norman continued. “The people who see you as a monster never stop to consider that you might be a person, much less a child.”

“Hey, I’m not that young,” Raph said indignantly. “And I can take care of myself. I’ve been in tougher spots. Trust me, this ain’t all bad.”

“Judgin’ by that left hook, I’d say you’re tellin’ the truth,” Norman said. “But take it from me, kid: you don’t gotta go through this sh- stuff alone.”

Raph rolled his eyes at Norman’s poor attempt at self-censorship. “What happens now?” he asked.

“We wait, apparently,” Norman said. “The NYPD gotta process you in. Then you gotta wait to see a judge. Or they give you a ticket to go to court later. Either way, the police gotta take your mugshot and fingerprints before you get outta here.” He cocked up an eyebrow. “Not entirely sure if they’re gonna let the likes of you leave, though.”

“Yeah,” Raph murmured. That was something that had been eating away at the back of his mind this whole time. The chances of the police letting him out of their custody were slim. But he could think of one good reason why they’d release him – to hand him over to the man who had wanted to slice him open with a scalpel ever since they first met. Bishop. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Norman kept him company and made small talk, but Raph paid little attention to the conversation. His mind was preoccupied with the grimness of his circumstances. There was no doubt that his brothers were coming up with a way to bust him out, but it was anyone’s guess how long that would take them, or how successful they would be. Either way, he couldn’t afford to be a sitting duck. He would have to bust out as soon as possible. The best time to do that, he figured, would be when the police inevitably took him out of holding to take his photos and fingerprints. The only problem was that he didn’t know when that would happen. In fact, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed since the cops had brought him to the station; the holding room had no clocks or windows.

To his relief, he didn’t have to wait long. It seemed that only a few minutes had passed before a pair of cops came into the room. One of the officers stared down at Raph and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You ready to cooperate, ET?” he jeered.

“Sure,” Raph said through gritted teeth.

The other officer gave orders to the detainees to back up, then unlocked the holding cell and beckoned for Raph to step out. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than the cops slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and firmly held onto his arms. Raph took one last glance back at Norman as they escorted him out of the room. Although he had only known him for a few minutes, he felt horrible about having to leave him behind.

They walked down a dimly lit hallway towards the room where they had taken his belongings. Raph carefully observed his surroundings and mentally noted when they passed a camera, another pair of cops, then another camera. Finally, they entered a blind spot. The nearest officers were on the other side of the hallway.

Raph shoved into the cop on his left, knocking him to the floor. Before the cop on his right could react, he swept his legs out from under him. Then he bolted down the hall – or tried to, at least. He took only two steps before strong hands grabbed his ankle, nearly causing him to trip. One of the cops had managed to nab him. Raph pulled his foot free – just in time for a third and fourth officer to tackle him to the ground.

Between half a dozen cops yelling at him to stop resisting and his own grunts and screams, the hallway grew louder by the second. Out of nowhere, a bright, clear voice pierced through the cacophony. “Gentlemen! Get off of him, right now!”

Raph froze. He knew that voice.

Heels clacked against the tile floor and a civilian stopped right in front of his face. He craned his head upward to see who it was. Black pumps, a pencil skirt, a blazer – then a shock of bright red hair. “Come on, Mister,” said April. “Time to get your photo taken.”

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[aggravatetheaxe]

FINDERS KEEPERS - Chapter 6: Into Dust

Murderer. Monster. Serial killer. Abuser. Freak. These are words you would be well within your rights to use when describing Bo Sinclair. But when a trip to dispose of a body doesn’t end up quite as planned and a nameless waif enters the picture, he might have to add one more label to the list: protector. How long can Bo justify the presence of a child who so critically throws off the tenuous balance of life in Ambrose? How long can he stand it?

CW for this chapter: probably if you're this far into the fic you know what you're getting yourself into; mention of firearms; mention of drug use; mention of fire/explosion

This title is SAFE FOR WORK.

Taglist: @blackrose8425, @shirtlessfelix, @popsnapopera, @slasherblog, @toastysalt, @sweetbird-sinclair, @imbleedin-out, @pharmacykeys, @venusanatomica, @katerinabythesea95

Soundtrack: Into Dust, Ambience

Words: 4,525

Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Masterlist

***

The air in Ambrose grew colder with every passing day, and with it, Bo grew used to their new routine.

He liked routine. 'Course, he also liked for his routine to not be interrupted, but after a week and a half, he'd gotten accustomed to the change. Mornings were no longer just about him or him and Vince: he had to think about feeding the kid, washing the kid, making sure the kid's diaper got changed. Underwear. Socks. T-shirt. Ring. Bird's diaper. Bird's clothes. Socks. Food. Juice. Sprite can.

And then, on top of all that, he didn't have his bed to himself. He always had grand plans to tuck her in and sleep elsewhere, but every night, she convinced him to stay for just a minute, and he was out like a light.

Turned out, taking care of a toddler was exhausting.

And ... frustrating. The longer she stayed, the more comfortable she got; the more comfortable she got, the more she whined, demanded, and refused, and she could be a stubborn little thing. It was only when he got real angry and raised his voice that she fell back in line like a lamb.

No wonder Momma had shouted and hit so much—and Bird didn't even talk back. If Bo recalled, he'd had quite a mouth on him.

He hadn't hit Bird yet, though. The fear in her eyes when he shouted soured his soul enough, though he couldn't have said why. Seeing fear in peoples' eyes was one of his life's great pleasures; an unmatched thrill. It was different with her, and that bugged him. It was in those moments that he knew for sure Vincent was right: she had to leave as soon as possible.

Yet, as the days passed, subconsciously, he yearned less and less for his life before her sudden appearance. He got used to his new normal. But then, he'd always been adaptable when it was required of him.

It wasn't until one morning, sitting at the breakfast table, when Vincent put his spoon down and asked, "When are you going out for Thanksgiving stuff?" that Bo realized just how long she'd been with them.

He looked up from his hashbrowns and blinked. "Oh, shit. It's in a coupla days, i'nit?"

"Lester's going to expect the whole nine yards."

"Lester can kiss my ass," Bo scoffed. "I ain't basting no turkey. Not after last year." He shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I'll figure somethin' out." Hey, Birdy—you wanna help me plan Thanksgiving dinner, chickadee? You remember having a Thanksgiving, right?"

She sat politely at the head of the table, although "head" was relative when your table was circular. More like she, Bo, and Vincent each sat at one point of an equilateral triangle. Her eyes darted between the twins, no longer with the nervousness that had lingered in her gaze for weeks but with wholehearted curiosity, and though she didn't answer with words—she still hadn't spoken a word since she'd read her new name off his hat—she stared at Bo expectantly as she nibbled her toast.

"Turkey, ham, sweet potatoes, chicken 'n' dumplings, stuffing, cranberry salad ... you know, Thanksgiving. We'll buy a pre-roasted turkey from the supermarket and Les won't know the difference," he added with a wink.

He couldn't help but notice the very deliberate, cold silence Vincent held. It'd been the same damn thing for the past two weeks, but whenever Vince brought it up, Bo always had the same question: What do you want me to do?

Vincent never had an answer for that. Well, beyond Take her to the cops like you said you would—but both of them knew that unless they literally dumped her outside the police station and somehow evaded any witnesses, bringing her to the cops would only draw scrutiny. They'd kept her for too long at this point. Questions would be asked, and with them still not knowing what had happened to her folks, not to mention all the secrets the Sinclairs had to hide....

Bo willfully ignored Vincent's cold shoulder, considering Bird. "Cut's lookin' good," he said as he reached out to scrub his hand over her prickly head. The gnarly gash there was almost completely healed now, with just a little pink scrape left over. "What about your feet, how do they feel?"

Bird responded only with a noncommittal hum, but, well, she'd tell him if something was terribly wrong.

"Good. Can't have ya walkin' around on busted up tootsies."

With little more than a sigh, Vincent stood from the table, dumped the remainder of his cereal down the sink, and left the kitchen. Bo watched him go, little tendrils of anger poking at his heart. There was nothing in this world more a blessing and a curse than having a twin. They understood each other like no one else ever would; when they were on the same page about something, it felt like they could move mountains. On the other hand, when they stood in opposition, it was more than annoying. It was painful.

And Vincent in particular wasn't someone you wanted to argue with. He was as stubborn as Bo but with the added, finely honed talent of passive aggressive dismissal and condescension—something inherited straight from Trudy Sinclair.

People could die, but they never really left, did they? For better or worse.

The popping of Bird's Sprite can as she depressed the aluminum with her fingertips distracted Bo from his train of thought. Probably for the best. He always went to a real dark place if he thought for too long. He'd rather be here, not there.

"You done?" he asked, eyes falling to her mostly empty but not cleared plate. Another good sign, he reckoned: she'd been absolutely obsessed with food her first week there, like she was afraid someone would take it away. It was nice to see her behaving more natural with it. "Well, whaddaya say we get cleaned up 'n' start the day?"

Bird nodded in reply, pushing away from the table but not standing up. She preferred to wait for him to pick her up and place her on the floor, if she must be forced to stand at all. Once her feet touched the linoleum, however, she squeaked her little rain boots over to the sink without complaint, climbed onto the stool, and put her plate in the sink. Bo turned the tap and pumped a couple squirts of soap into her palm, then surveyed her, arms crossed, while she scrubbed her hands with little to no finesse.

As he handed her a towel, there was an unnecessarily exuberant knock on the door, followed immediately by the sound of it opening and Lester's twangy voice: "Hey, Bo! You here?"

"In the kitchen," Bo called back, unable to hide the edge of irritation in his voice. He leveled a sharp glare at his little brother as he entered the kitchen. "Can't you knock politely 'n' wait for me to answer the damn thing? Were you raised in a barn?"

"No, I was raised in a nice, big house!" Les replied, spreading his arms wide and making a beeline for Bird. Over the past couple weeks, the youngest Sinclair brother had managed to find a hundred and one excuses to drive up here and see the baby. "Heya, sweetpea! How ya doin'?"

Bird turned on the stool and reached out—basically the way she greeted all three of them at this point—and Lester obliged, grinning and lifting her into his wiry embrace.

"Oof, feels like you're puttin' on a li'l weight!"

"She is," Bo replied tightly. He got a weird feeling in his chest whenever Les interacted with the kid. He was so much better at it than Bo was, so much more natural, and it just ... didn't seem fair somehow. After all, Bo was the one who'd found her. He crossed his arms again, if only to suppress the urge to snatch Bird away from his brother. "What're you here for—or, guess I should say, what's your excuse for showin' up this time?"

Lester turned his attention from Bird, expression sobering. "Well ... you remember you told me ta keep an eye out for her parents?"

"Yes, Les, of course I fuckin' remember that. Am I stupid? Spit it out."

"Okay, okay!" He set her down and sauntered over to the fridge. "Well, I been askin' all over hell's half acre, and I think I got a lead."

Bo was silent, simply watching him open the fridge and peer inside. Whatever feeling was prickling up the back of his neck wasn't a pleasant one: something like suspicion, dread, defensiveness. He found himself ready and willing to dismiss whatever Lester had to say out of hand, like he didn't want to believe her folks could really be out there. But that wasn't such a good impulse if he wanted to wash his hands of her, was it?

Lester took his time pouring a small glass of orange juice, apparently weighing what to say next. "I, uh ... I think it'd be easier for me to show ya instead of tell ya."

"What d'ya mean? Who are her folks, where do they live?"

"Uh, nowhere now." He took a big gulp of juice. "You're just gonna have ta see it for yourself, Bo, I told ya."

"Fine," Bo said gruffly, picking Bird up and grabbing his keys off the sideboard. "Let's go."

When Lester didn't reply, Bo assumed it was because he was chugging the last of his juice, but a moment later, the little squirt followed him through the doorway, stumbling over some kind of warning: "Now— Now, Bo, I dunno if that's such a good idea, this might not being somethin' she—"

He turned abruptly, fixing Les with another glare. "What? Y'all wanted her gone so bad, but now it's time to hand her off and you're changin' your mind? Well come on, then, let's get her back to her white trash folks, for Christ's sake, so you 'n' Vince can get off my back."

He didn't realize how sharp his tone was until he felt Bird flinch against him.

Lester started to protest that actually he hadn't bugged Bo about giving her back, but he wisely shut his mouth and pulled his hat lower over his brow, mumbling something in the affirmative as he stomped out of the house. Bo paused to put Bird's coat on, made sure she had her Sprite can, then followed suit.

"Let's take my truck," Lester said with an edge of bitterness to his voice. "No reason ta bring more attention to ourselves."

"Two Chevys ain't really a ticker-tape parade, ding dong."

Nonetheless, Bo acquiesced, walking around his truck to the passenger's side of Lester's. Shame he didn't have more of an excuse to drive his own, 'cause Lester's smelled like shit. Literally, underneath all that blood and rot. He held his nose—not literally, unfortunately—and slid Bird into the middle of the bench seat, then climbed in after her. Immediately, she let her Sprite can fall to the cab floor and reached for the mummified deer foot hanging from the rearview mirror. She couldn't quite reach it, but Bo didn't mind watching her try.

"So where is this 'lead?'" he muttered as they turned around and headed down the hill toward Main Street.

"'Bout twenty minutes north of Edward. She sure did walk a helluva long way ta get ta Ambrose! Uh ... y'know, Bo, you don't sound too convinced."

Bo looked pointedly out the window. "S'just ... after all this time, you'd think someone woulda come lookin' for her. I can't imagine what kinda people her folks must be." He paused. "And— And what're we supposed to do if they're not fit parents, just leave her there?"

There was another pregnant pause. "Bo ... it's okay to admit ya'd like to keep 'er."

Bo whipped his head round to look at his younger brother. "What the hell are you talkin' about? You big dummy, I don't wanna keep her, I'm just sayin'—it's a shame, s'all. She's a good kid; she deserves people who give a damn about her." He shook his head bitterly, intending that to be the end of his rant, but not a minute had gone by before he started up again. "I mean, what the hell kind of person leaves a baby out in the wilderness 'n' doesn't go lookin' for it? They didn't even call the police. No one's been searchin', that's all I'm sayin'. Keep her. I don't wanna keep her. She's been a thorn in my side since the moment she came into town."

"Okay, okay, take it easy!" Lester raised one hand in surrender. "Yeesh. Anyway, I think you'll see that these people— If they're her family, they ain't in much position to go to the cops."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I said it'd be easier to show rather'n tell." By now, they had transitioned from dirt road to pavement, and Lester peered out the front windshield, trying to find and read the street signs. "Does that say Osmund Road?"

"Jesus Christ, Les, you know you should wear your glasses," Bo said, squinting at the sign. "Yeah." Then, looking at their surroundings. "We're in the middle a' nowhere."

Something cold touched his arm, and he looked down to see Bird clutching his elbow. She was squeezing herself closer and sinking into the seat, like between him and the upholstery she might find a place to hide. Her dark eyes sparkled, and though he wasn't surprised to see her trademark wariness, he was surprised to see just how scared she seemed to be: her little chest rose and fell quicker, and she licked her lips.

"Hey," he mumbled, removing her claw and enfolding it in his large hand. "Don't be nervous, right? Come on now, you been such a big, brave girl the past week. Don't chicken out on me now."

It was obvious his words did nothing to soothe her—and the further they went down the dirt Osmund Road, the more nervous she seemed to get, until finally she stood up in her seat and threw her arms around Bo's stubbly neck. He kept trying to calm her down, but it was no use. By the time they pulled up to the only drive on the long, rural road, Bird was crying and stamping her feet. "Pcheewww," she whined. "Pcchewww, pchhhewww!"

"Bo," Lester began tentatively, "I really think we oughtta bring 'er back home. She's upset."

"Shh, shh, shh." She had tucked her face into the crook of Bo's neck, and while he rubbed her back in circles, he looked over her shoulder at Les. "Go up the driveway."

"But—"

"Move it!"

Lester pursed his lips tight, and a moment later, the Chevy jerked up the pitted drive, bone chimes jingling. Low-hanging boughs of untrimmed trees scraped the top of the cab. It felt eerily like the swamp had lured them in and was now swallowing them up. Anticipation and dread built in Bo's chest until it was physically painful, and soon, he found he was gripping Bird as much as she was gripping him.

Finally, the place came into view. Or, rather, the remnants of it.

It had been a trailer, he thought, though it was no more than a foundation and a few charred walls now. Trash and other debris lay strewn all across the lawn, including, notably, a crib and a kid's swing set. Realization dawned on Bo.

By now, Bird was screaming hysterically. With great effort, he disentangled himself from her embrace and passed her over to Lester, reaching for the door handle. "Bring 'er back to the road. I'm gonna look around."

Lester's eyes shone with concern. "Be careful, Bo."

Bo grunted and shut the passenger door behind him as quietly as he could—but it still upset the kid, and she threw herself to the window and pressed her little face against it. Her expression of abject fear tore his chest right open, but he waved, trying to reassure her everything would be perfectly fine despite his own trepidation in this creepy-ass place.

He waited until Lester was all the way back down the road and out of sight before he turned back to the wrecked mobile home.

His first suspicion was fire—and certainly there'd been some charring, though even in the winter the swamp was a pretty shitty place to start a flame—but as he waded closer through the debris, he noticed that some of the trees close to the foundation were scorched, too, and missing quite a few of their skinnier branches.

"Holy fuckin' shit," he muttered to himself, taking his hat off and carding his fingers through his hair. There'd been an explosion.

A gas line explosion, maybe? But no way a little four year old girl could have survived that. There was nothing left of the front steps, so Bo hoisted himself into the house to get a better look around. Everything was left behind, although most of it was destroyed: furniture, clothing, appliances ... he moved toward the decent-sized kitchen, sifting through trash with the toe of one boot as he went. It was mostly bottles and boxes of—

He stopped dead, a thrill running up his spine. A lot of boxes of cold medicine. Several different types, all with varying dosages of pseudoephedrine.

The further he searched with this in mind, the more signs he found: Pyrex, tubing, funnels, rubber gloves—to say nothing of that paint-y smell lingering on the furniture and what remained of the curtains.

"Of course it's a fuckin' meth lab," he whispered.

Bird's parents were tweakers. Or at least suppliers. Not very good ones, if this explosion was any indication.

Bo took a deep breath, replaced his hat, and looked up at the midday sun shining through the destroyed roof. That solved the mystery of who her family was, but something still didn't add up. Gas or meth, this had been a fiery explosion. If the kid's parents hadn't survived, how the hell had she?

He surveyed the rest of the house, then moved onto the cluttered yard. Besides the crib and a couple other necessities, there was no evidence a child had ever lived here—but Bird's reaction told him all he needed to know. This was where it had all gone down, whatever it could possibly be.

Maybe she was just the world's luckiest toddler.

Maybe one day she'll be able to tell me, said a little voice in the back of his mind.

He was about to leave—to accept that he might never know the whole story, that she was some miracle baby—when he tripped, nearly falling on his ass right there in the ash. Whatever he'd slipped on shot out from under the sole of his boot, bouncing and glinting into a bush. Weird. Seemed like nothing around this place should be shiny enough to glint.

He approached slowly, crouched, and squinted at the 9mm brass casing pinched between his thumb and forefinger. In the corner of his eye, something of a similar size and color glinted, and slowly, he followed a trail of casings back to the house.

What in the hell?

Bo bent to pick them up, but one was stuck in the remnants of a mud puddle, and nearby ... no fucking way. He dug a finger into the dirt and retrieved a flattened 12 gauge casing.

Two firearms at the scene, a handgun and a shotgun. One explosion. Had the crazy sons of bitches shot each other in some meth-fueled frenzy? It would explain how Bird had survived: if she'd run away from the gunshots, she could have been a decent distance away when the place blew sky-high.

Bo turned the shell casing over and over between his fingers and said softly, "Pchhhewww."

Oh, chickie...

Abruptly, an unsettling feeling gnawed at the center of his back—a feeling he wasn't too accustomed to, seeing as how he was usually the hunter and not the hunted. Was someone watching him?

He looked over both shoulders, turned around, scanned the treeline ... but as far as he could tell, he was the only human soul for a mile—and to be fair, the state of his immortal soul was pretty up in the air anyway.

It was just this place getting to him, he decided quickly. Too isolated and too quiet, with all this death and destruction around...

Ain't that hypocritical? Bo chuckled, shook his head, and left the ruins behind.

***

As soon as Olympia could be sure the man was gone, she emerged from the trees.

Her heart was beating so hard and fast, it was a wonder he hadn't heard it and noticed her. There had been a couple close calls there; she'd been so damn scared he was about to spot her at any second, darting between the trees, and then who knew what he'd do? If he was crazy enough to kidnap a little baby girl...

When she'd seen the truck driving through Edward and recognized him in the passenger seat, she almost couldn't believe it. That wasn't the Chevy she remembered, but there was no way she'd forget that man's face. No way in hell. Lucky she'd been out back on her break to catch him, but her manager hadn't exactly been thrilled when she'd abandoned her shift to follow him in her mom's beat-up SUV. If there was anyone in this town to replace her, she was sure she'd have been fired.

But honestly, even if she was, she couldn't bring herself to care. This was more important.

Carefully, she made her way closer to the burnt-down trailer, in awe of it. Why had he come here? More importantly, why had he brought the girl? Olympia hadn't gotten a good look at her, but she'd been able to hear her freaking out, poor thing.

At least the girl was still alive. It felt terrible to acknowledge, but that was a blessing.

Maybe this was where the kid had come from, Olympia thought, crouching to examine an overturned swing set. In that case, was the man trying to return her to her parents? It seemed highly unlikely after keeping her for, what, two weeks? Two weeks where Olympia had been totally unable to sleep, haunted by the man and girl who seemed to have disappeared without a trace. No ... she didn't trust him.

But what had happened here? The man had looked as confused as she felt, sifting through the rubble for clues.

Was that possible? Was it possible that he wasn't the bad guy but someone who was trying to help ... someone trying to put the puzzle pieces together just like she was?

...No. She didn't trust him.

"Morning."

That word, spoken in a pleasant Midwestern voice, hit her like a ton of bricks, shocking from her a shriek that echoed against the tree trunks surrounding the clearing. She turned to the stranger, at the same time shooting toward the treeline in a bid to escape—but she stopped when she saw his face.

She had no idea who this man was. He was a decade older than her, but he was handsome, with a shaved head, bright brown eyes, and a bemused smile. "Miss? I'm sorry ... didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. I thought for sure you heard me coming up behind."

Olympia raised her hands to her flushed cheeks, and though she didn't let her guard down just yet, she mustered a smile. "Oh, shoot, I— I thought you were someone else. You scared the bejeezus outta me..."

"Sorry," he said again. He extended his hand to shake, but he didn't come any closer, which she appreciated. "I'm Brice. Brice Starky."

"Olympia." She looked him up and down, noting his muscular frame, practical clothing, and the shotgun holstered at his back. "What are you doin', creepin' around here?"

Brice laughed good-naturedly, adjusting the wrap-around sunglasses resting on his forehead. "This is my property, so.... Me and my wife, we just bought a couple acres out here. Yup, she's from Baton Rouge originally, so she's always wanted to move back here."

"Oh," Olympia said, taking her hands from her pockets. "I'm so sorry, sir, I had no idea this was private property."

"It's alright. Not like there's much out here yet, besides this." He gestured to the ruins in front of them. "But, ah, the police are still investigating, and there's probably broken glass and stuff around, so I would stay out of the area if I were you. Wouldn't want you to get hurt, right? Then I'd be liable," he added with a laugh.

She giggled nervously in return. "Yeah, guess not..."

"What are you doing out here anyway?"

Olympia fought with herself briefly. Maybe she should tell someone, though no one had cared to listen to her theory about the kidnapper so far. Still, this guy was the property owner, so surely he'd be able to help in some way. Maybe he even knew who the little girl belonged to.

She intended to tell the truth. She swore she did. But for some reason, when she opened her mouth, she could only bring herself to say, "I was ... I was looking for someone." When Brice cocked a brow, she pivoted: "I-I mean, I thought I saw someone. I was drivin' down the 445 and I thought I saw a little girl wandering into the trees, so ... I decided to drive down the road and take a look."

Brice's eyes lit up. "A little girl? No kidding."

"Yeah..." She knew she should tell him more, but instead she said, "I thought maybe she was lost or somethin'."

"Did you see what she looked like?"

Of course, Olympia knew exactly what the girl looked like. She saw her face every time she closed her eyes. "Not ... not really. I, uh, I think she had brown hair."

Brice shifted and grabbed a small notebook and pen from the inner pocket of his jacket, jotting something down quickly. "If you see the girl again, can you call me?" he asked, offering a torn scrap of paper to her. "Or if you think of anything else you remember. Can you do that, Olympia?"

She scanned the phone number scrawled across the paper, then peered up at him. "Why? Are you related to her or somethin'?"

"Yes."

He didn't elaborate.

Olympia gnawed on her bottom lip, reading the number again and again. After a long paused, she dared, "You're not workin' with that other guy, are you?"

"What other guy?" Brice asked a little too eagerly.

His tone convinced her in her gut that he didn't know about the blue-eyed kidnapper ... but she didn't care for it, either.

"Nothing. Never mind." Olympia folded the scrap of paper and tucked it in her pocket, pasting a customer service smile on her face. "I'll call you the second I think of anything else, Mr. Starky."