#sunday morning mind dump

[kfedup]

another Sunday, another seven

1. I was supposed to be in Boston this weekend, but I waited too long to buy my ticket and the price doubled, so I had to postpone. So disappointing, but so it goes. What the hell is up with airline tickets right now? Such greed. Sure would be nice to live in a place that has high-speed rail. Best developed country in the world, my ass. 

2. I applied for a director of marketing and communications position in VT last week. It was such a great exercise shaping my resume to suit the position. I’ve never been this excited about the possibility of an interview before. I’m feeling so burnt out on B2B/B2C copywriting and miss using my talents and skills to drive a mission-focused organization. When I saw the listing, just an hour after they posted it, my entire being shouted YES and I got to work on the resume immediately. Hell, I didn’t even realize I was open to a full-time job, but I sure am. Continuing to work strictly from home in the long term is not going to be sustainable for my mental health. Lort, it feels so good to admit that. 

3. My latest therapy journey is more productive than any I’ve had before and I think it’s because I entered it in a space of calm readiness, looking for help moving forward. We touch on the past because that’s where the patterns originate, but I’m not sobbing my way through each session and have had one major breakthrough nearly every week. It’s helped me come unstuck and open myself to possibilities, and it sure feels as if the universe recognizes that I’m ready for change. A plan B emerged yesterday that feels true and viable if the VT org doesn’t feel I’m the right fit. 

4. I noticed that with the plan B idea forming, my mind immediately tried to tell me to focus solely on that because VT is never going to happen. I spent some time talking with that voice in my head, reminding her that we don’t need to catastrophize and we can continue prepping for the interview so we put our best self forward. It’s such a relief to have words to sooth that part of me that wants to protect me from being hurt by avoiding putting myself out there. I thank her for her service all these years and let her know that I’ve got her, go ahead and sit in the back of the bus and relax and enjoy the ride. 

5. During all of this, I’ve had 4 Rolfing sessions in 3 weeks and my body is changing radically. I was finally ready to take the connective tissue healing to the next level and I noticed while sitting meditation this morning that I can breathe more deeply. It feels like there’s room inside my body in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. The education I receive in these sessions is finally starting to sink in and exhibit in my daily movement. I’m so aware of how my scoliosis has been this driving force in my body for most of my life and I only last year began to address it. I am aware of my body in space, the spacious dimensionality of it, the way joy and pain exist together because I am in a body. I’m so interested to see the bones of my sternum relaxing so there isn’t such a pronounced bump at the top of my chest anymore. And now I feel it acutely when surfaces I’m interacting with are uneven - chairs, tables, floors. My body was so twisted before that I didn’t even feel it. 

6. I’m writing a book about how having scoliosis that was never treated - in fact was diagnosed and summarily forgotten by everyone in my family - has shaped my life. And how beginning the healing and acceptance process 43 years later is changing the shape of both my body and my life. My spine will always be shaped like a question mark, but now I am rising to the questions it poses and exploring the possible answers. 

7. All juju, vibes, mojo, good thoughts, prayers, and hire Kelly energy accepted with deep appreciation. Let’s do this thing. 

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 7

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.

Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.

The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.

“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.

You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”

“We have the whole day. Want to try?”

“Really? You want to?”

“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.

“We need something to gather them in.”

“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.

“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”

The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.

“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.

You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.

“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.

The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.

The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.

I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything

“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”

“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.

“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.

“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.

Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”

Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.

It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.

You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.

“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.

“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”

He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.

The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.

“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”

You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”

“Coming with me?”

“I was hoping for an invitation.”

He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”

“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”

You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.

“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.

“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.

Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.

He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.

Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.

You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.

There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.

“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.

His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”

Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.

“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”

“Francis…”

“Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.

A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.

“Love,” he gasps.

“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.

***

You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”

“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”

“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”

“You want me to meet them?”

“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”

“How many are you planning on?”

“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”

“I know you do. I do, too.”

“You’re still scared.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”

“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”

His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”

***

You do not lose the power that evening.

There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.

“Do you think your parents will like me?”

You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”

Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”

“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”

“But that’s not the whole story.”

You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”

“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”

You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”

He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”

“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.

“And that I’m a good dancer.”

“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.

“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”

“We sort of did.”

His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”

“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”

“We’re engaged, though.”

“Yes. But still not married.”

“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.

“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.

“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”

You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.

You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”

The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”

“A real date.”

“Yes, a real date.”

You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”

Dance with me. I want my arms about you

The charms about you

Will carry me through to

“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”

“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”

“Because…”

“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.

[littlexdeaths]

scotty doesn’t know - e.m. iii.

eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: cheating, lil sprinkle of angst, shitty (ex) boyfriend behavior, some major fucking CHEESE (sorry if ur lactose intolerant), reader is the ultimate tease, dom!eddie, light bondage, degradation kink, oral (m receiving), ass/pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

series masterlist

based on scotty doesn’t know by lustra

a/n: honestly about to dedicate my entire life and blog to @strangerstilinski because i couldn’t have gotten this one done without her help. also thank you everyone who has been so incredibly patient with me, i hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 8.2k

The weekend had come and gone way too fast.

And now Monday was staring you right in the face, and with it— a very important decision.

You spent the rest of your weekend with Eddie, cuddling, talking and just enjoying each other's company. For those two days you were in your own little world together and you honestly never wanted it to end. But realistically you knew you had to go home and return back to your reality.

A reality where you belonged to someone else.

Your parents were absolutely livid by the time you returned home late Sunday evening, getting the biggest lecture of your life after Eddie had dropped you off. To add fuel to the fire, Scott had been calling your house nonstop since Saturday morning, much to your parents' annoyance. But that was a conversation you weren’t ready to have just yet.

Especially not over the phone.

You tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to figure out what you were going to say to him.

Monday was going to be rough, you knew that. But the thought of being able to finally show everyone who your heart really belonged to made things a little easier. You hadn’t exactly let Eddie know of your plans to dump your boyfriend the following day but he could tell something was up.

From the way you kissed him goodbye in his van, right out in the open for anyone to see, including your parents. And the look you gave him as you glanced over your shoulder before continuing up your driveway. It gave him a spark of hope that maybe this wasn’t just a silly fling to you either.

You got ready that morning with shaky hands, tucking one of Eddie’s band tees into your Levi’s. The male had let you wear it home the previous day, mostly because he enjoyed the sight of you in his clothes a little too much. You fiddle with the belt loop of your jeans as you stare at your reflection.

A mixture of nerves and excitement swirled in your belly as you took in your appearance, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thighs.

You can do this.

You take one final look before grabbing your backpack and bound down the stairs with a newfound pep in your step. You can’t help the goofy smile from spreading across your face as you think of seeing Eddie, and it makes all this seem a little easier. You all but ignore the curious looks from your parents as you bolt out the front door.

They hadn’t seen you this happy in months.

But as you drive to school, those pesky nerves begin to creep back in as you pass Scott’s jeep. You will your heart rate to slow as you search for a parking spot. A sense of relief fills your chest when you notice one just a few spots down from a very particular van. Your hands shake as you pull the key from the ignition, taking a moment to collect yourself before you head inside.

You try to ignore the curious eyes of your peers as you enter the school, knowing the events of the previous Friday were still fresh in their minds. And you reach your locker without incident, quickly yanking it open to put away your textbooks. You keep your head down as you walk to your first class, part of you was just waiting for Scott to sneak up on you.

Oddly enough you hadn’t seen him or Eddie all morning, which was extremely unusual. By now Scott would've walked you to first class and you’d be spending your second period study hall with Eddie. So seeing neither of them had your mind racing, and your anxiety spiking.

Had Scott figured it out? Did he confront Eddie?

A pit begins to form in your stomach at the thought, and you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if Eddie was hurt because of you. You’re so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t notice someone beginning to approach you. A look of determination on their face.

“I need to talk to you.”

The voice startles you, panic rises in your throat as your eyes lift. You are expecting to meet Scott’s icy glare, or the warmth of Eddie’s gaze. But instead, you are met with the soft but stern cerulean of Dustin Henderson.

“Me?” you ask softly, glancing around you before back at the younger male.

“Yes you,” he huffs in annoyance.

“What could you possibly need to talk to me about?” you keep your tone hushed as he takes the empty chair across from you.

“I know you think you’re fooling everyone, but you aren’t fooling me.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, fingers gripping the arm of the chair as he raises a brow at you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know you’re sneaking around with Eddie,” he snaps.

Your heart leaps into your throat, mouth drying as Dustin continues to glower at you. A sting of betrayal suddenly fills your chest, and you feel foolish for even thinking Eddie would actually keep this secret between you.

But maybe he was just like Scott, who loved to brag about his sexual conquests to all his friends.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell—”

“He didn’t.” Dustin cuts you off, taking off his hat to run a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m just not blind.”

You both sit in silence for a moment then, feeling even more confused than you were when he initially sat down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Dustin sighs, folding his hands together before he meets your gaze again.

“Eddie doesn’t know I'm here right now and honestly, he’d probably kill me if he did know.” The male winces slightly, before he continues. “But I am through with sitting around and watching one of my best friend’s hearts get stomped on.”

“Dustin, that’s not—”

He holds up his hand to cut you off, shaking his head.

“Just let me finish.”

So you hold your tongue, despite wanting to tell this kid that he has it all wrong.

“Eddie’s a good guy, one of the best I've ever known. And over the past couple of months we’ve all seen a change in him, he’s happier.”

That thought warmed your heart.

“But I can also see how all this is weighing on him. You may not notice it, but it’s definitely there.”

A lump has formed in your throat, watching in silence as the younger boy stands and slings his backpack over his shoulder. He glances at you once more, that look of disdain still written across his features.

“Now I know I can’t tell you what to do, but Eddie doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret.”

And without a glance back in your direction, you’re alone again.

Fourth period.

The moment you’ve been waiting for and simultaneously dreading since Sunday evening. It was the only class you shared with Scott, and while you’d been able to avoid him most of the day— it was time to face the music.

When you step into the classroom, he is already seated in his usual spot in the back corner of the room. The empty desk beside him is practically calling your name.

But your whole body freezes when his eyes meet yours expectantly. And as he begins to wave you over, you make a beeline to the opposite side of the classroom. You keep your eyes low as you find an empty seat, chewing nervously on your lower lip.

When you flip open your notebook, you hear the familiar squeak of sneakers in front of you. Your eyes slowly lift to reveal the hardened features of your boyfriend. His jaw is set in a grimace, and he rests his knuckles harshly on the front of your desk.

“Babe, we need to talk.”

But before you have the chance to reply, Mrs. Jones enters the classroom in a flurry. The bell rings immediately after, signaling the start of class. And it’s hard to tell whether the abrupt noise or his harsh glare causes you to flinch in your seat. She claps her hands to attention then, but Scott still doesn’t move.

“Mr. McGuire, take your seat now.”

He merely scoffs before he stalks away, returning to his own seat. Feeling defeated, you slump down in your chair. Any confidence you’d had this morning seemed to dissolve under his angry gaze. The rest of the class period goes by in a daze, as you can’t seem to focus on anything besides the daggers that Scott has been throwing your way the entire hour.

Once the final bell rings, you shoot up from your seat so fast you nearly take a couple other students in your rush. You practically sprint to your locker, hoping to make it to the lunchroom before Scott can corner you.

But you underestimated his speed, especially when he was sober.

His hand suddenly slams your locker door shut, and he backs you into the cool metal. He leans his palm against the line of lockers, closing you in completely. There was no way you could escape him now.

“What is going on with you? Why are you being such a frigid bitch?” he seethes.

You can’t help but wince at the insult, shrinking under his increasingly angry gaze. People were beginning to stare, causing more nerves to twist in your gut. This was a much more interesting sight than anything the cafeteria had to offer. And while you hated the attention, you knew you had to do this.

Just like ripping off a bandaid.

“I want to break up.”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, confusion quickly replacing the anger on his features. You let out the sigh you didn’t realize you were holding, relief filling your chest as you finally spoke the words aloud.

Scott runs a hand through his dark locks, pulling away from you ever so slightly.

“You want to break up?” his voice raises, “Why? Is this about that stupid fucking party?”

You knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he wouldn’t just agree and walk away. While you had tried to prepare yourself for what you wanted to say all night, your brain was struggling to string any words together.

You rub your temples, trying to prolong the inevitable but the male could only take your silence for so long.

“Well?!” he shouts.

You take a shaky breath as you square your shoulders, attempting to feign some kind of confidence. Dustin’s words from earlier echoing in your ears. He doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret. The sea of students had only begun to grow in the past few minutes but you don’t notice that Eddie was amongst them.

“I don’t love you, and quite frankly I don’t think I ever did.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“You're an arrogant, selfish prick. And honestly, I just can’t keep doing this anymore…” you pause, now meeting his stormy eyes.

“Especially when my heart belongs to someone else.”

If you thought Scott was angry before, you hadn’t seen anything yet.

His hand suddenly slams into the locker next to your head, causing you to shrink instantly. While he’s never been violent towards you before, you aren’t entirely surprised by it. It was just in his nature.

“So you cheated on me? Is that what you’re saying?”

Before you can get another word in, you hear the familiar clearing of a throat. And a ringed hand reaches out to harshly tug the male away from you.

“You just don’t learn do you, Scotty?”

Eddie is beyond fuming as he shoves Scott back into the lockers before the male can properly react. And while Scott wasn’t the smartest guy, he quickly seemed to put two and two together.

He looked between you and Eddie before he started laughing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Munson? You’re fucking the freak?”

You instantly turn on defense mode, entirely fed up with his treatment of him. Before you can stop yourself, you copy Eddie’s actions and shove Scott back into the lockers. Surprise crosses both of the males' features at your actions, knowing you were never a violent or angry person.

But everyone has their limits and you’ve just hit yours.

“Yeah, and he fucks me so well too. Eddie here actually knows how to make a girl come— but I can’t say the same for you, McGuire.”

An astounding ‘oooh’ resonates through the crowd at your words.

Scott’s cheeks are flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. No one has ever stood up to him like this before and he’s suddenly at a loss for words. Eddie is grinning like a mad man, clapping excitedly before he wraps his arms around your waist. You welcome his embrace, leaning back further against his chest.

Scott just stares at the two of you, gritting his teeth as you smile sweetly.

“Now, I think we’re done here. Let’s go, Eddie.”

The metalhead willingly lets you drag him away, only your destination wasn’t the cafeteria anymore.

You pull him into the nearest empty hallway, shoving him up against the wall and locking your lips together. Eddie eagerly accepts your advances, fingers lacing through the loop of your jeans to keep you pressed against him.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, making every touch of his skin feel like a live wire.

“Munson!”

You curse softly as you realize you’ve been caught, and quickly glance over your shoulder.

Mr. Mundy looks between the two of you with a deep sigh, “Now come on, you know the rules. Break it up or you’re both getting detention.”

You unwillingly pull yourself away from him and lean against the brick wall beside him. A glance out of the corner of your eye shows how the male is biting back a grin.

“Try not to infect your girlfriend with your delinquency, alright?” Mr. Mundy gives you both a disgruntled look before heading back into his classroom.

Once the door shuts behind him, Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and coaxes you back into his arms.

“Y’hear that? Girlfriend,” he teases, wiggling his brows but the title makes your stomach flutter nonetheless. “Didn’t even ask me out on a proper date though, sweetheart. I’m offended.”

He laughs as you playfully pinch his side, shaking your head fondly. You lean your forehead against his chest, letting yourself indulge in the scent of his cologne.

“Did you really mean what you said back there?” he says after a while.

The sudden change of tone has you lifting your head, gazing up at him curiously. Eddie pulls you in even closer, letting his hands rest on the curve of your waist.

“That your heart belongs to me?” he prods.

You look down at your feet shyly, not realizing that he had heard that part of the conversation. Eddie doesn’t let your gaze wander for long though, as he gently tips your head back up to meet his.

“Yes, I meant it,” your voice shakes, your nerves getting the best of you.

But the look that flits over his features has your heart skipping a beat and butterflies erupting in your belly.

“All mine?” he questions, nervously licking his lips as he awaits your answer.

“All yours, Eddie.”

Being Eddie Munson’s official girlfriend is more than anything you could’ve dreamt about.

While sneaking around with him was fun in the moment, the amount he wanted to show you off made your heart sing. You had never felt so wanted or taken care of in your entire life.

But it wasn’t always easy, as graduation continued to grow closer the two of you barely had any alone time together. Between Hellfire, band practice and constant cramming for finals— time was not on your side.

But busy schedules be damned, you both manage to carve out enough time for a date at Benny’s.

“The usual, kids?”

Benny calls from the kitchen with a grin as you both take a seat in your normal booth. The diner had quickly become your favorite place for date nights, in your opinion they had the best food in town. Despite Eddie’s futile attempts to take you to Enzo’s, you prefer the easy going atmosphere of the small diner much more.

“Nah, just two chocolate milkshakes and an order of fries. We only got a few minutes before this one abandons me for prom shit with Wheeler,” Eddie teases.

You can’t help but pout, nudging his foot under the table.

“Says the one who abandoned me for movie night with Henderson yesterday.”

What you aren’t aware of though is how Dustin was actually helping Eddie pick out a tux and tie for prom. Laughing hysterically as the older boy panicked over what color tie would match perfectly with your dress.

Benny watches you both playfully bicker back and forth, shaking his head fondly. He brings out your order a few minutes later and unable to contain your excitement any further, you grab a fry and dip it directly into your milkshake.

Eddie’s lips freeze around the straw, gazing at you in absolute bewilderment when he pretends to gag.

“Sweetheart, that’s disgusting.”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, taking a bite out of the fry before dipping it back in.

“You really shouldn’t knock it till you try it, Ed,” you say in a sing-song tone as your boyfriend urgently pulls the basket of fries away from you.

“Yeah— no way. I’m not doing that, you’re pretty sick in the head, baby,” he muses between bites of a plain fry. “Shit… and people call me a freak?”

You stifle a giggle as you lean forward, stealing the half eaten fry from between his fingers. You dunk it back into your milkshake and pop it in your mouth with a soft but exaggerated moan.

Eddie shifts slightly in his seat, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. It was almost too easy to get him so worked up. You ignore the warning look he shoots your way as you reach for another fry.

“Come on, just try it.”

You scoop as much of the shake onto the fry as possible, holding it towards him. The male just shakes his head, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth.

“You know, I don’t know if this is gonna work out between us, doll face,” he chuckles, watching as the chocolate cream begins to drip down your fingers.

His petulance continues but you’re still trying to goad him into taking a bite, dangling it in front of his scrunched nose, inching closer and closer. All in an effort to tempt him. You watch patiently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip it between his pouty lips.

“This level of blasphemy might be crossing a line, even for me—”

Before he can finish his thought, there’s lukewarm milkshake and salt smeared across his cheek and the corner of his mouth.

Eddie sits in shock for a moment before you burst into a fit of giggles at his expression.

“Oh, you are asking for it now, baby,” he taunts.

You are unprepared as he dips two of his fingers into his own glass, reaching forward to smear the sticky chocolate across your cheek. You gasp when the male leans forward, mischief sparkling in his eyes. His tongue darts out, causing a loud squeal to escape you as he licks the milkshake from your cheek.

“Eddie, that’s gross,” you whine as you reach out to steady the glass before he dumps milkshake everywhere.

“Hm, you didn’t seem to find it that gross when it was buried inside your—”

You toss a fry at him before he can finish that sentence, hitting him square in the forehead. He looks shocked, ringed fingers dramatically grasping at his chest when he slumps in his seat.

“You wound me, sweet thing.”

It’s then that you take the time to really look at him, and a surge of utter fondness fills your chest. While he goes on a dramatic rant about how french fries could be considered a deadly weapon, you’re only half listening.

Instead admiring the way his dimple indents his cheek when he grins sheepishly at you, and his hands flail about when he speaks. And it really hits you just how lucky you are to have him, that he was all yours.

So when you lean forward to capture his lips and ultimately silence him— he’s a little surprised. But he cups your face between his palms and kisses you back with just as much fervor.

“What was that for?” he asks a little breathlessly when you pull away, and you just smile.

“Just… cause I can.”

His eyes soften and he reaches out to thread your fingers together. Eddie knows the significance of what that means, so he can’t help but lean in to press your lips together again.

“Fuck yeah, you can.”

You really wonder if the universe was playing one big joke on you.

After your mini date at the diner a few days prior, you’d barely seen Eddie the rest of the week. The guys had a big gig at the Hideout the following evening and have been using any spare moment they had to practice. While you understood the reasoning for it, the other part of you was becoming increasingly frustrated.

Eddie could definitely tell something was up, but he didn’t exactly have the time to ask you in the five minute intervals you had together between classes.

So in an effort to make up for his absence, Eddie asked you to tag along to practice that night. But you might have had some ulterior motives for agreeing. Since it had been well over a week since you had any proper alone time together, you were past the point of needy.

Despite still seeing each other, the rushed kisses and subtle touches weren’t enough for either of you.

This was the longest either of you had gone without sex, so you can only imagine he was feeling the same way. But if his longing glances told you anything, it was that he needed you just as much— if not more. So that’s why you showed up to practice in your shortest skirt you owned.

What the metalhead doesn’t know is that you aren’t wearing any panties under said skirt.

However, he’s going to find out soon enough.

You’d given him a quick peck on the cheek when you got there, nothing too much though. You really did want his friends to like you, and they seemed to hate the constant displays of affection you both exhibited on the daily. So you kept it subtle, mostly for that reason.

But a small part of you did it just to rile him more.

In the short time you’d been officially dating, it became quite apparent how much Eddie craved your touch, whether it was sexual or not. He’d subtly tap his fingers on your knee during group hang outs, or press his lips to your temple when he walked you to class. You found it utterly endearing, but you also knew you could use it to your advantage.

So you could immediately tell from the slight pout that your boyfriend wanted more than just a peck on the cheek.

Hook, line and sinker.

As practice continued on, you found yourself sitting on an unused amp, with no other chairs in sight. The group wasn’t exactly used to visitors during practice, so you had to make due. You didn’t mind it though, as it put you in Eddie’s direct line of sight.

About half an hour in they decided to take a small break, the other three males were chatting excitedly about their upcoming dnd campaign. Eddie was more focused on tuning his guitar, but his eyes continued to wander back over to you.

This was the perfect opportunity to let him in on your little secret, while the other members were too preoccupied to be paying attention to you.

You sigh heavily and lean your arms back, uncrossing your legs and letting them fall open. Giving him the perfect view of what you were hiding… or rather not hiding, underneath your skirt.

His eyes flick up to your face before they begin to travel lower, and it takes him a full minute before he notices. But once that recognition flashes across his features, his mouth hangs open in shock.

A playful smirk plays on your lips and you quickly cross your legs again, acting as though nothing had happened. Eddie’s jaw is clenched when he returns to tuning his guitar, feigning as though it had no effect on him. But you could tell from the growing bulge in his jeans, that it definitely did.

He was grateful he had the ability to hide his boner for the rest of practice, not wanting to explain himself to his bandmates. But you knew by his stiff posture, you were so in for it when this was over.

The thought had you squirming with excitement, and you tried your best not to make a mess all over your makeshift seat. Now that would be something you could never live down.

Thankfully Eddie decided to end practice earlier than normal, claiming they could all use a break after their busy week.

But only the two of you knew the real reason.

Eddie all but drags you out to his van once his gear is packed up, gently shoving you against the back door. He opens the other side to put his guitar back into the vehicle, and quickly slams it shut. You bite back a grin when he cages you in against the cool metal.

His jaw is still tense, eyes darkening when his hand begins to caress your bare thigh.

“That was quite the peep show, sweetness.”

You try to keep your breathing even, but his roaming hands are making that very difficult.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby,” you feign innocence, knowing it’ll only rile him up more.

While he loves when you’re his good girl, he also loves any excuse to treat you like his little slut. The brunette chuckles humorously, grabbing your chin in his free hand to keep your eyes aligned with his.

“Come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” he tuts.

You just continue to gaze up at him all doe-eyed, hands resting on his chest. You don’t answer him, which only makes him more frustrated than he was to begin with.

“I see how it’s gonna be... You wanna be a brat? I’ll treat you like one,” he hisses. “Now, get in the van.”

He pulls away, and you feel a sudden chill from the loss of his body heat. When you don’t move an inch his brow raises, cocking his head at you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.”

As much as you would love to continue to push his buttons, you know you’re in enough trouble as it is. So you squeak out a quiet ‘yes, sir’ and round the side of the van to hop in the passenger seat.

Eddie is silent for most of the ride, but the tension in the air is palpable. While he says nothing, the glances he keeps tossing your way have you squirming in your seat. In an effort to stop your distracting movements he reaches a hand out, ringed fingers digging into the meat of your thigh.

And in your desperate state you can’t resist pushing him just a little more. So you rest your smaller hand atop his and guide his fingers in between your legs. Eddie suddenly slams on the brakes and your body flies forward when he pulls off on the side of the road.

He puts the van in park before turning to face you.

“In the back, on your knees. Now.”

You grin excitedly at his demanding tone, already anticipating what was to come. So you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and scurry into the back of the van without another word. Eddie takes his sweet ole time before joining you, as part of your punishment. He knew your patience would only last so long.

He flicks through his cassette tapes and fiddles with the radio volume… anything to keep you waiting.

So when he does finally join you in the back, you’re practically trembling with need. His hands cradle the back of your neck, titling it to bare your throat to him. He presses harsh kisses along your skin, nipping every so often. You can’t help but whimper from the contact, your hands reaching out to grip the fabric of his shirt.

But he stops you, immediately pushing your hands aside.

“Only good girls get to touch me,” he grunts.

Your eyes widen when he pulls the skull bandana out of his back pocket, maneuvering himself around you. He pulls your hands behind your back and binds them together with the soft fabric. Once he was happy with the secureness of the knot, he’s back in front of you.

This was something new.

His fingers gently grip your chin, but he forces you to meet his gaze.

“What’s your color, baby?”

As your sexual relationship began to delve deeper, the more safe words and communication became his highest priority.

“Green… neon fucking green,” you hum.

The smirk quickly returns to his features, and his lips go back to sucking on your neck.

“Watch that pretty mouth of yours, doll or I’ll put it to use.”

You can feel the wetness starting to drip down your thighs, having absolutely no barrier due to your lack of undergarments. His hands have found their way to your breasts, kneading them in his large palms before he continues lower. Once he reaches the apex of your thighs he nearly growls, feeling your arousal coating your supple skin.

“Fuck— I need you, Eds.” you whine, already forgetting what he had just told you only moments prior.

Eddie promptly removes his hands from you, the sound of his belt clinking open has you shivering in anticipation.

“You really want to test my patience tonight, don’t you?”

You now realize your mistake.

But you can’t find it in yourself to regret it when he finally releases his cock from the confines of his jeans. You glance up at him expectantly, licking your lips at the sight of his pre-cum coating the tip. His fingers guide your mouth open and can feel your body practically buzzing with excitement.

“Since you can’t seem to listen, I’m going to use your mouth however I want. If it’s too much I need you to snap your fingers twice. Okay?”

You give him verbal confirmation and snap twice to demonstrate that you are still able to do so even with your hands bound. Satisfied with your response he grins and opens your mouth wider.

“Lemme see that tongue, baby,” he instructs.

You obey immediately and he rewards you by slapping the head of his cock against it. Once… twice… a third time… before he slips it past your lips with a groan.

Eddie’s hand fists your hair, pulling your mouth even further onto his cock. You take every inch willingly, eagerly swirling your tongue around the base of his shaft. His eyes squeeze shut, mouth slightly agape as you take him even deeper.

But you already miss his piercing gaze, now desperate for him to look at you. So you pull back until his cock slips past your lips.

His eyes shoot open and he raises a brow at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

The utter dominance in his tone and stature makes you even wetter, your thighs pressing together as he continues to stare you down with those dark eyes.

“Want you to look at me,” you plead, batting your lashes at him.

He just chuckles, keeping his gaze locked on yours when you eagerly take him back into your mouth. His fist tightens in your hair, another groan escapes him when he hits the back of your throat. A wicked grin tugs at his lips when he feels you gag around him.

“That’s right, gag on it,” he coos.

Your eyes remain locked with his as he continues to use your throat, mascara tears running freely down your cheeks with each thrust. His groans fill your ears, each one sending heat straight to your core. His lips pull up into that signature smirk as he admires the absolute mess he’s made of you.

But before he reaches that peak, he slips himself out of your mouth. It’s too soon for your liking, despite the throbbing ache between your legs. He notices the pout on your lips, now eyeing the string of saliva that keeps you connected.

“As much as I’d love to come in that bratty mouth of yours…” he pauses, wiping up some of the drool from your lips with his thumb. “I’d much rather see it dripping out of that pretty pussy instead.”

You can’t help but whimper in response, letting Eddie bend you over the center console of the vehicle. He flips your skirt up, landing a harsh smack to your ass as he nudges your legs apart with his own. You’re suddenly grateful for the console beneath you, knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to hold yourself up with your hands still bound.

Eddie grabs your bound wrists with one hand, the other slipping between your thighs.His calloused fingers run through your slick folds, and he moans at the wetness he finds there.

“God… always so wet. You’re such a little slut for me, huh? You like when I use you like this, baby?”

You merely nod, your thoughts far too jumbled from his touch that words are escaping you. But Eddie isn’t having any of it, and really you should know better.

Another harsh slap lands on your pussy this time, a shaky gasp leaving your lips.

“Come on sweetheart, tell me…”

Eddie slips two fingers into your entrance with no resistance, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside of you. But his actions stop just as quickly as they start due to your continued silence. And when he begins to slip his fingers out, your walls contract around them in an effort to keep them nestled inside you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” he taunts.

You want to cry from frustration when he fully removes the digits, guiding your hips back towards him. Eddie just chuckles, before you hear him noisily suck your arousal from his fingers.

“Y-Yes, Eddie. Just please, fuck me,” you cry.

While you can’t see him, you know he’s grinning like a madman. Any further plans of begging disappear when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing through your folds. As much as he’d love to continue teasing you, his own impatience takes over and he slides into you with one hard thrust.

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you still feel so full. Stretched out beyond belief— it nearly takes your breath away.

Eddie doesn’t give you much warning before he’s snapping his hips back into yours. The sudden motion causes your head to lull forward and rest against the console. Your walls practically suck him in deeper, and he enjoys the pathetic little noises that leave you as he continues to slam into you.

“Fuck— you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Eddie uses your bound wrists to pound into you harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. You can already feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, that band getting tighter as he continues his ruthless pace.

“You gonna cum already? Such a little slut…” he nearly growls, “Go on, do it. Let’s see how many times you can make a mess on my cock.”

Between his words and the constant pounding into your g-spot is what tips you over the edge, feeling your knees wobble from the force of your orgasm. Eddie begins to slow his pace, letting you ride the waves a little before he slips one of his hands between you to gently rub at your clit.

Your soft whimpers only seem to spur him on further, keeping a steady pace. But he rams into you so deeply, you swear you can feel him in your throat. Despite how slightly overstimulating the feeling is… it’s too good to stop. And you’d do anything to show Eddie how good you can actually be.

“That’s it… feels good, baby?”

You let out a small but breathy ‘uh huh’, that being the only response you can muster at this point. One orgasm has turned your brain to mush, and all you can think or feel is Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Your response has him chuckling, as the male continues to rock his hips into yours. He loves getting you to this point, so drunk on his cock that you can’t form a coherent sentence. His fingers start to pick up their pace against your bundle of nerves, feeling how your walls clench even tighter around him.

While he wants to fill you up so badly, he also wants to see how far he could push you. It was only fair.

“Wanna show me you can listen, sweetheart? Give me another one. You can do it.”

You nearly sob as your second orgasm suddenly crashes over you. While not as forceful as the first, it’s powerful enough to make your legs give out beneath you. Letting all your weight rest against the center console. Eddie is quick to help guide your hips back up, and stops the movement of his own.

You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks when he frees your wrists, finally slipping out of you. You whimper at the loss of contact, but it’s not gone for long. As Eddie helps guide you into a sitting position, before carefully laying you back onto a pile of blankets.

He brushes the tears away from your cheeks, and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Can you give me one more? Doin’ so good for me, sweet thing.”

You practically preen at his praise, eagerly nodding when he situates himself between your legs again. He carefully lifts your trembling thighs, his touch much more gentle now. He caresses your supple skin before he slips back inside you with a deep seated groan.

You can feel how your hands begin to twitch at your sides, desperate to reach up and tangle your fingers in his curls. But his previous warning rings in your ears, only good girls can touch me. Eddie catches the subtle movement and reaches down to guide your hands up towards his head. And a loud grunt leaves him when he reaches your deepest point.

“You can touch me baby, you’ve earned it.”

He barely finishes his sentence before you’re threading your fingers through his wild curls and tugging him closer. Until your clothed chests are pressed together and you can feel the weight of his ribs against yours. Your mouths meet with a soft urgency and his tongue glides over your lower lip before slipping past them.

His pace has slowed tremendously, all in an effort to cherish the feeling of being inside you. Despite how rough can be at times, this was his favorite way to be with you. With your bodies entangled in every possible way.

While Eddie may put on a tough exterior, he’s a big softie underneath it all. And you’ve come to adore both sides of him.

He pulls away from your lips with a small gasp, greedily inhaling your mingling breath as his chestnut hues meet yours. Eddie looks beautiful like this, hovering above you all sweaty and flushed. It's truly a sight you wouldn’t grow tired of seeing. He doesn’t let lips stray too far though, leaning down to press hot kisses along your jaw towards your neck.

The brunette eagerly sucks onto the skin of your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the ache he leaves behind. One of your hands untangles itself from his tousled curls, slipping between your bodies to rub at your overly sensitive clit. Judging by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Eddie buries his face into the crook of your neck, whining when you clench harder around him. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you has your head reeling, already so close to finishing for a third time that night.

“Fuck— I love you,” he pants, each slam of his hips becomes more frantic with his admission. “I love you, sweetheart.”

His confession is all it takes to push you both over the edge. Eddie’s hips stutter as he fills you, and your body arches further into his embrace with a cry of his name. It’s so intense that you can feel how his body trembles above you, and the stars begin to dance behind your lids. The weight of his words finally starts to sink in when he collapses on top of you, blinking away the tears that fill your lash line.

The mixture of your heavy breathing fills the silence and you gently stroke his curls while you both come down from your highs. Eddie must have felt your tears dripping down onto his cheek and his head lifts to regard you with concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You just shake your head, pressing another kiss to his awaiting mouth. But when you pull away a little too soon for his liking, he practically pouts. You just smile fondly, nervous fluttering in your belly at what you were about to confess. Despite hearing him utter those same three words only moments prior.

“I just… I really love you too, Eddie.”

The grin that stretches across his face has your heart thumping faster, your giggles soon fill the silence in the van as he presses tender kisses everywhere he can reach.

“Love you so much, sweetheart.”

The Hideout was packed, which seemed to be an unusual occurrence for a Saturday night in small town Hawkins. But the promise of multiple live bands quickly filled the seats that usually remained empty during the week.

Ever since you became official, you easily fit in amongst his large group of friends. Even Dustin, who was weary of you in the beginning, had quickly begun to warm up to you. But you had clicked with Robin the fastest and the two of you became very close in such a short amount of time.

Most of them had come out to support the band, besides the group of freshmen. As Eddie all but forbade from stepping foot in this establishment. His overprotective nature towards them was something you found to be incredibly endearing.

You were standing at the front of the crowd, snugly in between Robin and Steve. Mostly due to Eddie’s strict instructions to keep an eye on you. He could already anticipate just how rowdy this crowd might be from the moment you entered the dingy bar.

You anxiously shift in place, taking another swig from the flask that Robin had snuck in. You hadn’t seen Eddie for more than a few minutes since he dropped you off at home earlier that morning. And you were beyond impatient for the show to get started.

It was a little annoying how much you missed him when he wasn’t around, how uneasy it made you.

But the vodka was definitely starting to help soothe your nerves.

You continued to shift from foot to foot, partially from your growing impatience and partly due to the soreness between your thighs. The round in the van had only continued once you got back to Eddie’s trailer. He buried his tongue inside you while he showed you how much he loved you from between your thighs.

It’s as though the universe could tell you were getting antsy, as the lights on the small stage finally dim. You cheer loudly and the rest of your friends join in when the four males walk out onto the stage. They all take their respective positions, and Eddie slings his guitar strap over his shoulder and adjusts the mic stand.

“Good evening Hawkins, we’re Corroded Coffin. Thanks for coming out!”

A round of boos suddenly erupt from amongst the cheers, and your head instantly whips around to find the source. You see Jason and Scott’s whole crew leaning up against the back wall of the bar, a prominent smirk on your ex’s face. Your hands balled into fists and you quickly flip them all the bird before turning your focus back towards the stage.

Scott’s incessant torment had cooled off for a bit, but that entire week it was seeming to ramp right back up. While you knew your boyfriend could take care of himself, it still didn’t stop the fury from bubbling up inside you over it. Especially knowing it had only gotten worse because of you.

You find Eddie’s gaze again and he shoots a wink your way, not even fazed by their presence. They started off their set with a cover of Bang Your Head by Quiet Riot, already getting the crowd ramped up. Eddie was totally in his element, carefree as his fingers danced along the neck of his guitar. While they played mostly covers, they were able to sneak in a few original songs.

The crowd was overly enthusiastic, which was a nice change of pace from the five sullen drunks they usually had in attendance at their normal Tuesday time slot. While Eddie was riding that high, his eyes always seemed to find their way back to you.

“Thank you guys for being such an awesome crowd, this is our last song.”

In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve come to recognize almost all of their songs. Eddie was always bouncing lyric ideas off of you, or playing them for you any chance that he could. But hearing the first few chords ring out into the bar, you knew this one was clearly new.

And if shit eating grin he was sporting was any indication, he’d been preparing for this moment. Eddie’s eyes drift from yours to the back of the dimly lit bar as he begins singing. The opening lyrics make your eyes widen in shock.

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me do it in my van every Sunday. She tells him she’s in church, but she doesn’t go. Still she’s on her knees and Scotty doesn’t know.”

Your heart begins to race and that cocky grin never leaves his face. Your eyes follow his line of sight and you turn around, watching in amusement when you notice how Scott’s fists are clenched at his sides. This is by far the angriest you’ve ever seen him, and you can almost see the metaphorical steam coming out of his ears.

“Fiona says she’s out shopping, but she’s under me and I’m not stopping…”

A smug look graces your features when Scott meets your gaze, giving him a little wave before turning back to focus on your boyfriend. Eddie’s husky voice is full of confidence as he continues onto the next verse. That sound alone could bring you to your knees.

“I can't believe he's so trusting, while I'm right behind you thrusting. Fiona's got him on the phone, and she's trying not to moan. It's a three-way call and he knows nothing, nothing…”

Your mind instantly drifts back to that fateful phone call, that night being a major turning point in your feelings towards the metalhead. Your whole body flushes at the vulgarity of the lyrics, but in an odd way you find it kind of sweet.

Once he has your attention again, Eddie blows you a subtle kiss.

“The parkin' lot, why not? It's so cool when you're on top. His front lawn in the snow, life is so hard 'cause Scotty doesn't know! Scotty doesn't know!”

You watch in fascination as his fingers work diligently over the guitar strings, banging his head along with Jeff. The song aside, you really were enjoying yourself. Eddie lets his guitar fall to his hip, gripping the mic with both hands.

“I did her on his birthday…”

Your curiosity has gotten the better of you again, and you glance back to where Scott had previously been standing. The spot was now empty, much to your surprise. Scott was never one to back down without getting the last word. So you let your eyes wander around the bar, but Scott and his posse were nowhere in sight.

When the song starts to come to a close, Eddie and the rest of the guys have gathered at the front of the stage. Huddled together as they chanted a chorus of, ‘Scotty doesn’t know’, the crowd joining in unison. When you glance over at Robin, her grin practically matches that of your boyfriend’s.

While you had never explicitly told anyone (besides Robin) the details of how everything played out between you two, your ex definitely had his suspicions.

But now, one thing was for sure…

Scotty definitely knew.

sdk taglist: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @mugloversonly @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @transparentenemypenguin @calumfmu @vamp-bunny @eddiesxangel @nailbatanddungeon @deathst9r @comeonatmebruh @mrsjellymunson @eddiesghxst @eddiesguitarskills @callsignraver @eldermayfield @potatobeans99 @loserboysandlithium @em0220

[ros3ybabe]

My Morning Routine 🎀

I have adopted a new morning routine because I didn't have one for honestly the last....4 months? Eeeeessshh, absolutely not good for me. I've had to tweak the routine this week, but I think I've got it down! I wake up between 5am and 6am, typically closer to 6am, but it depends on the days because Fridays, Saturdays, and some Sundays I have to leave my house by 7/7:30am. I typically have 2 hours for this routine which is perfect for me!

Current Morning Routine 💗

Wake up between 5am and 6am

Drink water, use the bathroom

Make my bed

Do a quick Yoga with Adriene morning yoga workout, then put yoga mat away

Write in my guided journal

Complete a morning journal prompt of choice in my other journal

Make an Iced Coffee (medium roast Coffee k cup , one sweet n low packet, splash of French vanilla creamer)

Read 1 Chapter OR 15/20 minutes (typically self help book but honestly any book is fine for me!)

Plan out some things for the day (planner, Google Calendar, brain dump list, review todo lists for day)

Shower/Wash face (depends on if I showered night before)

Do my morning skincare! (vitamin c serum, moisturizer, sunscreen, lip balm)

Get dressed for the day (either work clothes or normal outfit depending on what i have to do)

Pack my bag(s) for the day (again, depends on the class, and if I have work then I may take a 2nd bag)

Head out (if necessary, which it typically is, except for most Sundays!)

And that's my morning routine! I love it so much, it's been so nice waking up at a set time every day and has been forcing me to be more mindful of when I go to sleep and how much caffiene I am consuming. It's so nice to have a morning routine, and I am currently working on implementing a night routinebecause I thrive with routines!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[janeyseymour]

stick season

summary: it's stick season. Hurt.

WC: ~1.85k

Feel free to listen to my cover of the Noah Kahan song!

Melissa has been your girlfriend for a year now. And she just joined you on a long weekend to go visit your hometown up in Vermont. Your parents absolutely adored Melissa, giving you the stamp of approval on your newest girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier about that. 

It was warm, it was cozy, it was perfect. Or at least that’s what you thought. But apparently you were wrong, because the drive back to Philly just felt wrong.

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined, you must have had yourself a change of heart like halfway through the drive, because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign; kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right.

Melissa had told you that it was entirely worth all of the miles you were putting on her car to go up there with you over the weekend, and you can’t help but smile with joy. And then she’s kissing the back of your hand and promising you that you were more than all of those miles combined.

But then, about halfway through the car ride home, there’s a shift. She takes her hand off of your thigh as she drives, and when she passes the exit that she usually would to take you back to your apartment, she goes silent, biting her lip as if she’s deep in thought.

When she pulls in to her own driveway, she looks to you sadly.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” you ask, clearly concerned about this sudden shift in attitude. 

She bites her lip nervously. “Y/N, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

“Do what?” you ask, although deep down you know what she’s hinting at.

She gestures between the two of you. “This. I- I’m not ready for the commitment that you’re ready for… you want to get married and have kids, and move back up to Vermont, and I can’t do that. I- I’m sorry.”

You leave her house in a puddle of tears. The uber driver that gets the misfortune of taking you home gives you quite a few concerned looks through the rear-view mirror.

Now I am stuck between my anger, and the blame that I can’t face, and memories are something even smoking weed does not replace. And I’m terrified of weather cause I see you when it rains. Doc told me to travel but there’s Covid on the planes.

You’re furious. You don’t know who you’re more mad at: yourself or Melissa. She just spent the last three nights with you up in Vermont playing the part of perfect girlfriend before dumping you and leaving you to explain to your parents that you’re single again. And you’re mad at yourself because you knew she didn’t want the future you did, but you had foolishly hoped she would change her mind. You suppose you should take the blame for that one, but you don’t want to face it- admit that it was your fault for putting blind faith in her.

Deciding that you need to relax, you roll yourself a joint, but the memories of you and Melissa over the past year just continue to replay in your mind. And for the first time ever since you started smoking weed, it doesn’t help the pain you feel in your chest. The drug might be able to remedy physical aches and pains, but it sure as hell can’t fix a broken heart; you’re not sure anything can right now.

You don’t leave your house for the next few weeks unless absolutely necessary. You’re a mopey mess, and your therapist finally tells you that you should travel. And you consider going back to Vermont because being in the same city as your now ex-girlfriend hurts too much. But there’s Covid on the planes, and you can’t quite justify driving up to Vermont on Friday night just to leave again on Sunday morning. Come Friday, you really do still toy with the idea of making your way back to your parents’ house, but there’s a cold front making it’s way through the Mid-Atlantic all the way up through New England, and you’re not about to attempt to drive through seven hours of rain and wind. Besides, when it rains, you can only think of Melissa. She used to have you dance out in the rain with her before cozying up on the couch and watching movies. She claimed it was the only way to spend a rainy day.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

There’s a season that happens in New England when Fall starts to make its exit and Winter presents itself- and every year, around stick season, your life changes. Melissa came during stick season last year, and she left during this stick season. It hurts.

You end up seeing her mother at the grocery store, and you look like a wreck. You give her a shy wave just to be polite- things may have ended with her daughter, but it’s clear to you that she’s entirely forgotten about your existence or previous presence in Melissa’s life.

That stings, and you make your way to the alcohol aisle, throwing a few bottles of wine in your cart so you can mope and play the victim at home tonight. You suppose you’ll just drink until a few of your friends from college come home for Christmas.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad. No, I am no longer funny cause I miss the way you laugh.

For the childhood that you had with your father, the relationship that you have with him as a grown woman is nothing short of a miracle. Because of everything you witnessed growing up as a child with having your father for a Dad, you came out better. You knew where to draw the line with certain things. You were funny because of the trauma that he caused you though too… but you aren’t funny anymore because the off color jokes that you used to make were usually just there for Melissa- and you miss the way she laughs. So now, you’re back to the quiet and shy, reserved person that you used to be before she brought out the best (and worst) in you.

You once called me forever, now you still can’t call me back. 

You remember when she told you that she was going to be yours forever. You didn’t think that she would ever say something like that- you knew that she hadn’t ever wanted to get married again, but you continued to pursue her romantically. And it was all looking really good for you, until she broke up with you.

You’ve called her a few times, to beg and grovel for her to take you back- tell her that you didn’t care about marriage and children as long as it meant you got to keep her in your life, but she refused to pick up the phone or call you back.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas.

You end up flying home after a few weeks because you simply can’t bear the pain of this heartbreak alone, and you can’t quite justify driving for a weekend. It’s still stick season though, and you feel the cool air wash over you as you exit the airport and try to hail a cab back to your childhood home.

After the flight back home, you see Melissa’s mother at the airport. She has a sign that she’s holding indicating that she’s picking someone up. But she doesn’t see you, and after the last meeting with her, you doubt she remembers you… she’s definitely forgotten about your existence by now.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your breakup with the Schemmenti was half your fault at this point, but you still take the Septa to get closer to your house before stopping at a liquor store- with the intention of once again playing the victim and drowning your sorrows in a bottle of tequila.

Maybe once you’ve seen some of your old college friends, you’ll head back north to see your hometown friends when they come.

And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

That redheaded beauty has haunted your dreams since you broke up with her. And you miss her dearly. But in each of your dreams, she’s a different version of herself, and it’s quite odd. Somewhere deep inside though, you know none of the versions of Melissa that your mind had made up are her- so you didn’t really lose her in a sense.

You always wake up though and sigh. She isn’t next to you like she should be. And when you head into your living room, you see a pair of her shoes that she left here and hasn’t asked to get back yet.

Your heart splits in half every time you see those shoes. You should just throw them out at this point, but you don’t want to touch them- if they’re there, maybe she’ll come back to you one day. 

Oh that’ll have to do… My other half was you. I hope this pain’s just passing through, but I doubt it.

She really was your other half, and you hope that the pain that you feel every time you see her shoes passes eventually, but you doubt it will.

And I love Vermont but it’s the season of the sticks. And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed, and it’s half my fault but I just like to play the victim. I’ll drink alcohol til my friends come home for Christmas. And I’ll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose. Now you’re tire tracks and one pair of shoes, and I’m split in half but that’ll have to do.

Stick season passes by, and you’re still left on your own. Christmas time comes, and you find yourself with a bottle in your hand almost every night to try to help numb the pain. It’s becoming less and less, but you still miss her with all your heart. You know that being split in half will just have to do… maybe next stick season will bring you something happy again.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab

[featherandferns]

ik this isn’t a prompt but i’m in love with the idea of jj calling the reader mama like maybe in bed or just being affectionate. they don’t have kids but it’s just a name he’s given her

"mama's mad" is still one of the best quotes of the show, so i've got u here. hope this is okay! idk why a lot of my stuff is set at breakfast time in the chateau. maybe i'm craving bacon (my poor vegetarian ass is suffering)...

(content warning - mentions of sex)

“If you two could screw a little quieter next time, there’d be no complaints here,” Kiara says to JJ the moment he walks into the kitchen on Sunday morning.

JJ makes his way straight to the counter where some bacon has been served up. He gladly grabs at it.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he replies, biting down into a piece of crispy strip.

John B is cooking eggs on the hob whilst Sarah leisurely slices lemons and oranges by his side, for infused water.

“Will you?” Kie asks.

“Probably not, nah,” JJ grins. She rolls her eyes.

“Where is your girl, anyway?” John B asks from the stove.

JJ opens the fridge and retrieves the carton of OJ, taking a swig.

“Napping. Didn’t get much sleep last night,” JJ can’t help but add with a slimy grin.

“You’re shameless, JJ,” Sarah sighs.

“You know it, princess,” he winks. He watches as Kiara starts mixing together ingredients in a bowl. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes.”

“Oh, nice,” he hums. “Lemme see if mama wants any.”

By mama, he obviously means you. It’s a given that any ‘mama’ in JJ’s sentences refers to you; something the Pogues and yourself have casually come to accept. The moment you and JJ stopped beating around the bush and fessed up to your feelings like the semi-mature teenagers you are (it was practically a battle of who-dare-say-it-first), he had taken to calling you it. You weren’t exactly sure why. Had teased him about whether he had a mommy kink in private (which he neither confirmed nor denied). Mostly he did it to joke. It sounded nice in his northern accent, anyway. Drawled off the tongue smooth and sweet like honey. So, no complaints from any party, unless JJ got vulgar with it in front of the Pogues (which was fairly often, with it being JJ).

Heading down the hall, JJ pushes open the spare bedroom door and darts his head in. You’re still in bed, lounging on your back, hair a mess and neck covered in healing and forming love bites. JJ grins, proud like a kid winning a science fair contest.

“Yo, mamma bear? Pancakes or bacon?”

“Why do I have to pick between them?”

“Fair point. You want both then?”

“Mhm,” you sigh lazily, eyes shut. “Coffee too, if there is any.”

JJ cringes. “Think Pope made some.”

“Yikes. No, then.”

“You got it mama.”

With that, he wanders back into the kitchen and grabs a plate from the drying rack of the sink. It’s always piled high with pots like some rip-off modern art project. The leaning tower of pots and pans. He dumps some bacon on, holds out his plate for John B to serve up some eggs - straight from the pan - and makes Kie promise to save some pancakes. Then he’s back in the bedroom, two forks in hand, climbing back into bed to share the morning fry-up with you.

“This is the life,” you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder as you eat.

JJ smiles and nods. You’re right. You’re always right, to be honest - not that he’d ever confess it. Only one of you needs a big ego, and JJ likes to think he’s claimed that spot.

“Wanna fish later?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Don’t mind really. As long as I’m with you.”

“Aw,” he grins, nudging you with his shoulder, making you laugh. He can see the flush to your features when he does. “You going soft on me, mama?”

“Only you,” you grin up at him.

JJ can’t take it when you look at him like that – like he hung the stars just so you can stand under them – so he grabs a strip of bacon and shoves it in your smiling mouth, making you laugh.

Yeah, this is the life.

[queenpiranhadon]

Could you possibly do a ninjago Cole x Baker reader

A/N: We're going to ignore how late this is LMAOOOO I'M SO SORRY ANONNNNN IT'S HERE NOW!!! Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): Reader owns a bakery, reader's kinda clumsy- falls into a sack of flour, reader makes scones with flour (whichever type is left to imagine for my celiacs🤍), Cole accidentally wrecks the bakery, serpentine arc kinda? I don't watch Dragons Rising, cursing, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, reader thinks of Cole like a puppy, Cole calls reader Master of Flour, reader hits unnamed serpentine in the head with a frying pan, Cole "asks" reader out on a date, mentions of nagas, not proofread!!

Pairing(s): Cole Brookstone x Baker!Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It was your day off.  

So obviously, you’d spend it working.  

Your days off, Sundays in particular, were when you closed the bakery you owned for the day to restock your inventory of baked goods to sell. 

Most people would call you crazy, saying that you worked too much and that you shouldn’t work on your breaks.  

Thankfully, you weren’t most people. You loved to bake, especially from scratch (those who used mixes were not only lazy, but the results were always artificial to you). 

It was 6:47 AM, and you stretch out your arms, cracking your knuckles and get to work, spreading flour over workspace. 

Then, you take the same flour measuring it precisely before dumping it into the porcelain bowl you grabbed earlier. You walk over to the giant pantry storage unit you had in the back to grab the sugar and baking powder you needed, humming to yourself softly. 

Music flowed through your headphones, the tunes lifting your mood as the sun’s rays peek through the windows, a golden hour in the dawn of the morning.  

You grab your measuring cups, pouring the right amount of sugar into your bowl and then twisted open the top of the baking powder container.  

Yet the damn thing wouldn’t budge.  

“Come on...!” you groan the corners of your lips turning down. “You weren’t doing this last week!”  

You knew you sounded extremely stupid, talking to inanimate objects and trying to persuade them to cooperate with you – but you were alone, so it didn’t matter.  

“Stupid. Little. Piece. Of.” you grunt, smacking the lid against the edge of the countertop, but you didn’t anticipate the lid of actually pop off, the force you were exuding into the can made you bang your chin onto the countertop, and you fell backwards onto a sack of flour you hadn’t opened up yet.  

“Ah Shit!” you yelp, white powder billowing up around you from impact.  

You frown as the flour settles onto your form when you sit up– making you look like a humanoid snowman. 

Your body aches and you plop down, but you moment your head sinks into the grating fabric of the flour bag, a loud boom is heard throughout the cafe.  

You bolt right up, scrambling to your feet and sprinting out of the kitchen to find a big gaping hole in the place where the door of your precious bakery was supposed to be, along with 2/3s of the wall. 

“What the actual- AH!” you squeak, ducking down behind a table as a large chunk of drywall is sent sailing over in your direction.  

“Ah shoot sorry!” you hear a male voice call out from a little bit to your left.  

You wince as you see a man dressed in a black gi punches the tiled floor of your bakery, a large chunk of the earth from underneath shooting out of the floor.  

Your insurance sure as hell wouldn’t cover for this.  

You watch as the man tackles some weird serpent-like creature, almost like a naga, with humanoid hands, but had a head that resembled a snake.  

Your heart pounded as the man in black was thrown across the room, hitting one of the walls as the pictures hanging there fell, glass shards now litering the floor.  

You want to tear your hair out at this point, knowing that you’d probably be fifty by the time you could ever repair the damage- but in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t your biggest concern.  

You needed to do something, and fast.  

Sprinting to your kitchen again, you size the possible weapons you had, choosing a wide frying pan that was evenly weighted in your hands. Quickly making your way back to the mysterious stranger that your door and then some, you see him wrestling with the snake-thing, attempting to trap it in a large boulder.  

Perfect. 

You creep on behind them, slowly and carefully, raising your frying pan. 

“TAKE THAT!” You yell, swinging the pan at full force as it contacted the serpent’s head, a loud clang resounded through the almost demolished building as the creature slumped forward, unconscious.  

The two of you stand there, in shock before the man before you lets out a low whistle.  

“Wow.” he says, removing the cloth that covered his face to reveal a head full of chin length black hair and honeyed amber eyes. 

Oh. 

Shit. 

You knew this face- you'd seen it on TV more than you’d like to admit. Cole Brookstone, one of the Masters of Spinjitsu, Master of the Earth. 

But, however, ninja or not, your store was still in shambles.  

You laugh wryly and raise an eyebrow. “Care to explain why my bakery is now a Borg Store after Black Friday?” 

The man snorts and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah...sorry about that. We’ve been trying to catch this guy for months now- stupid rat’s been trying to steal Pixal’s blueprints for some new mechs. Can’t believe all we needed was a frying pan.” 

You snort at that and wave your pan mockingly in his direction, and he feigns a look of terror on his face, stepping back and sighing dramatically. 

“Woe is me! Why is fate so cruel that I must die at the hands of the Master of Flour!” He cries in an ostentatious manner. 

It was then you realized, embarrassingly, that you still looked like a humanoid snowman. 

“Ah shit... sorry! I fell on top of a bag of flour when I was trying to make scones earlier before you...” you motion to the wreckage, not needed explanation. 

His eyes widen and his head droops in guilt. ‘Awww, like a puppy’ you think. 

“I really am sorry... maybe once I help you fix everything up, I can try one of those scones for myself?” he said, smiling slightly.  

Your heart warmed at this kindness, relieved that you wouldn’t be swallowing yourself in probably every job you could think of to repair the damage.  

“Is that a date?” you tease, thinking he’d playfully flirt back, but a boyish smile creeps across his face.  

“I mean, if you want it to be.” he says bashfully, looking down at the floor.  

You grin, grabbing his hand in your flour covered one.  

“I hope to see you soon then.” 

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 29 “Ripped Ripper” [Episode List] Dave’s gym is closed due to maintenance so he decides to do some working out at home. Lazy Tim doesn’t want to join him, but Dave knows how to make things more… interesting for his kinky bro.

POV: Tim

Ripped Ripper

Another lazy Sunday evening, a great reward after a busy week like the one both me and my friend/roommate Dave just had. I was in my bedroom minding my own business, reading stuff on my laptop, listening to some music: perfect pre-Monday night for a guy like me, now 30, too tired at the idea of doing something that demands a bit more commitment than, well, this. I even closed the window shutters this morning so the Sun couldn’t bother me with its very inappropriate life-bringing light.

Luckily, Dave is a fellow lazy man, so I know I have a good roommate when it comes to just chilling in silence, without even interacting, after a long week. I’ll ask if he wants pizza though, least I can do for not, well, not making up any plans for tonight.

“Babe, come here!”

Speak of the Devil.

I heard my bro from his room, next to my own. I know him, he probably didn’t even need me for anything important, as his voice had that tone he uses to mess with me (and our other buds) like the idiot prankster he sometimes can be.

“Here I come.” I replied, very maturely putting a lot of emphasis on that last word.

I… took my time to actually go on check on him, ‘cause I liked the song I was listening to. Once it was over, I managed to get up, almost tripping on my own sweatpants and slippers somehow.

I walked to his room, knocked a couple of times on the door, which was open, and looked at him with the most bored expression I could muster. 

“You rang?” 

Faint rock music was coming out of Dave’s smartphone on a desk while he was sitting on his bed. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, a pair of grey basketball shorts, and sneakers.

“Not interested.” I then said, walking back to my room.

I heard Dave laugh and then his own footsteps right behind me. He grabbed my left arm and pulled me back to his room. I didn’t fight back ‘cause I know I couldn’t; not because of Dave being strong or anything but because I knew he won’t leave me alone the whole evening.

“Not gonna let you dump me for the fourth time this week.” he said.

“I said I’m not interested.” I replied.

He let me go, sat again on his bed and looked up to me.

“No, you said you wanted to exercise.”

“…eventually!”

“You didn’t say ‘eventually’, you said ’next week’.” He got up and patted my shoulder. “Come on, give it a shot.”

I sighed, defeated, but I still wanted to slip my way out of that situation in a way or another.

“I already tried the gym with you once and I got bored pretty quickly.”

“Oh shut up, you stopped showing up because you were too busy crushing on that hot guy, so much so you got too afraid to work in with him.”

I looked at him with a puzzled look, pretending to have no idea of what was he talking about.

“Also I’m way hotter than him and I’m very offended by your poor taste.” he joked.

I rolled my eyes in response, even though, yeah, I do think Dave is quite hot, regardless of my kink obviously.

“Look.” I said. “I just don’t feel like it today, I hav-“

“I have to work tomorrow” he completed my sentence, also doing a very poor imitation of my voice. “So do I, man. It’s not even 4:00 PM. The Sun’s still up. Do you even look outside of your window sometimes?”

I literally shook my head in disbelief.

“Wait, what?”

I sincerely thought it was, like, almost dinner time. Maybe Dave’s got a point, after all.

“…maybe you’re right.”

I noticed a small exercise mat on the floor by Dave’s bed; I simply sat there, waiting for my friend’s instruction.

“Alright, lead me to a healthy life of wellness where I don’t trip on my own slippers.”

“Well you’re in the wrong place!” Dave excitedly said, in a bit of self-irony since he’s not super fit himself, but he’s better than me at this no doubt.

The room was big enough so the two of us could lie on the floor. He pretty much lied on his back next to me as a way to “guide” me through the first exercise, one I was actually familiar with: crunches.

“Should I do some warm-up first?” I asked.

“Yeah, you should have, but since you’re right here just… give it a shot. It’s not like you’re gonna die.” He placed his hands on the back of his own head, starting the exercise. “…I think.”

Even though the fact that I’m into farts and that my friend right here constantly blasts me should be the most embarrassing thing about myself, my performance during this first, relatively easy exercise was definitely more painful to watch: I couldn’t even finish a set (around 20 crunches), while Dave was humiliating me. I struggled so much and felt pain in my chest for some reason; I was already sweating and panting.

Not even 5 minutes in and I already wanted to quit.

“Yeah.” I managed to say, lying on my back, as my bro kept crunchin’. “Not my cup of tea.”

“The hardest part is getting started.” he commented.

“Wow. Thanks Master.” I replied, sarcastically.

He stopped mid-crunch, and turned to me, looking me at funny.

“Tim, blasting you with my farts doesn’t make me your Master.” he said, with a mocking tone.

I instantly sat back up as if I woke up from a nightmare. 

“What the fuck.” I turned to him, as he resumed doing his crunches. “Where did that come from?!”

“It’s fine bro.” he kept teasing me. “You can keep calling me ‘Dave’ if that’s fine for you.” he laughed.

Hearing my straight friend just casually making references to my fart kink, let alone the fact that he constantly face-farts me, will always be wild to me, like a fever dream. And also insanely hot, dammit.

“Is this because I suck at doing crunches?” I asked, not very politely.

“No, it’s because you’re already giving up.” 

“It’s just…” I sighed. “That’s just my thing bro, sorry. But thanks for trying to help, really.”

I lied on my back again, defeated, as Dave kept exercising. I could sense my friend looking at me, probably with his usual smirk, completely unfazed by me moping around, exhausted.

“Well… maybe I can do something to make things a bit more interesting for your lazy ass.” I heard him say, finally breaking the silence.

A silence that soon became a distant memory as the sound of Dave’s sudden, loud fart shook the entire room, easily surpassing the faint rock music coming from his phone. I’m used to my bro’s blasts and trust me, they are almost always loud, but this one felt even stronger somehow. It was also, but that goes without saying, long, like 9 seconds long. 

As ridiculous as I may sound… I had to see it. 

I sat back up one more time so I could get a good view and I saw Dave still lying on his back, one leg up to ease the blast out. How the grey fabric of his basketball shorts could endure that stream of gas is a mystery to me. His eyes were closed: he had the facial expression of someone surprisingly struggling to keep that blast going, a sign that he was holding that gas in for a while, which is unusual ‘cause my friend usually can rip monstrously long and loud blast with relative low effort.

Whether the case… that was a very hot sight, the tent I pitched in my sweatpants being the undeniable proof.

As the fart kept going, Dave lifted his left leg even more, as if there was a recoil, making it even louder.

The fart lasted around 14 seconds and my friend let out a quick sigh of relief as he ripped one last toot out. That sounded (and looked) more exhausting than me trying to do crunches.

The teasing bastard winked at me, ‘cause he knows how to press all the right buttons of my fetish.

“You know what I’m capable of…” he said. “Now imagine my skills, like, powered up by protein shakes.” he laughed and let another loud, but shorter (around 3 seconds) toot out to prove it, not that he needed to, as his farting skills are always jaw-dropping.

Still, he’s a teasing bastard.

The scent of his ass polluting the room reached my nose and I coughed a bit for how rancid that was.

“Are you seriously… bribing me with farts?” that’s a sentence I just said, fuck my life.

“Maybe.” another quick toot followed. “Is it working?”

“I’m going to punch you.” 

“Can’t finish a set of crunches and he wants to punch me.” he laughed. “Pissing you off is so easy bro.”

“I’m not pissed off.” I wanted to clarify. “You… you’re just making me hard.”

Even though Dave knows about my kink and fully accepted me, I still have a hard time letting him know that his farting skills (and teasing, nonetheless) never fail to give me a massive boner.

Dave looked at me funny, faking a serious expression. Then let out another loud rip in response, around 4 seconds long. Why do I even worry…

“Of course.” I simply said, too embarrassed to even look at him though.

As usual, he didn’t care, and only found my awkwardness hilarious. Disgustingly hilarious.

“It’s fine… at least you tried.” he then said. “We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.” 

I turned to him, appreciating the encouraging words.

“Still.” he said, adjusting his position. “I’m still gonna need a spotter to count those.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, without thinking. “I can do that.”

He let out an evil cackle in response, with that smug, hot smirk drawn on his face.

“So, what are we counting? Pushups? Crunches? Stars?”

I remained seated on the floor as Dave stood up, easily towering over me. He looked down to me and I, silly me, realised too late where this was going, even though I should have known.

“Who said anything about pushups and crunches?”

My gassy friend turned around and, simply put, sat full weight on my head as if it was a stool, his very gentle way to force me to lie down, with yet another loud toot thrown into the mix for good measure, one that I could properly smell this time.

The protein shakes are a powerful fuel and the scent reminded me of rotten eggs, which made me cough again as I lied down, letting my bro’s ass crush me.

However, that didn’t happen, not as violently as I expected at least. Dave’s ass was actually hovering only inches from my face; he could easily simply sit on me and let his ass roar but for some reason he didn’t.

“One.” I heard Dave say.

A fart quickly followed, loud, high pitched and wet-ish. I had to close my eyes as I literally felt the rancid gas erupting on my face, the thin grey fabric of Dave’s basketball shorts being the only thing separating me from his raging anus.

After a couple of seconds, the fart ended, and my bro got back up, but he wasn’t done at all. He let me took some breaths of (relatively) fresh air, only to bend his knees again mere moments later.

He was squatting over my face, basically, his ass barely tickling the tip of my nose.

“Two.”

Yet another impressive fart, the stench adding up to what was left of the previous one. Things were already getting too exhausting even for my trained nostrils: this is why I should never leave my room again.

But as much as I could “hate” what was happening, as Dave’s ass roared all over my face, my boner only got harder. My bro is not the hottest man in the world but he is quite hot and having a guy like him blasting me so effortlessly, no strings attached, will never cease to amaze me. 

I was definitely enjoying the sound more than the smell however, which made me feel like I was drowning in a sewer.

“What the fuck did you put in that protein shake, man?!”

I managed to ask, my voice being almost nothing compared to the loudness of the fart Dave was still ripping all over me. However, he did hear me, as his ass “bounced” a bit over my nose, a sign that he was laughing like the jerk bully he sometimes can be.

After a total of 12 seconds I was greeted with newfound silence and my bro got up, but before I could do or say anything or, you know, breathe, he squatted again.

“Three.”

Another loud rip, this time shorter, about 4 seconds, but still extremely dangerous stench-wise. Also, those were getting wetter and wetter. The sweat dampening Dave’s asscrack through his grey shorts didn’t help at all and only made the fart wetter and the stench stronger.

My bro’s ass went silent and I quickly asked a simple question.

“How many squats are you planning to do exactly?”

Dave laughed in response, as usual. “You tell me, it’s leg day.”

The second part of his answer was him squatting again on my face, this time making sure to crush my skull. He then made sure to shove down my throat and nostrils another powerful, protein shake-powered blast.

A wet one, a fully wet one, but Dave was a pro, so I knew it was just very nasty gas. Still, a good challenge to test the limits of my already disgusting kink. The blast was so powerful it made droplets of sweat from his ass rain all over my face: whether Dave was sweating because of the squats or the endeavor of pushing such big farts out I shall never know.

What I did know, is that after 9 seconds, Dave got up again, and at this point I couldn’t even remember what pure oxygen tasted like as not only my face, but the entire room was now basically engulfed with gas.

Dave instead, towering over me, proudly took a deep breath, showing off his muscles (which wasn’t a lot, but he definitely looked ripped when compared to me) and then stared down at his victim.

“And you wanted to quit.” he stated.

I couldn’t even come up with a proper comeback because his ass was already in my mouth, hastily erupting yet another fart, one I could actually taste.

He kept squatting on my face, repeatedly, each time ripping a fart, a loud wet rip, each time sweating more and more. My friend was wearing a pair of grey basketballs shorts but all of that sweat made his asscrack completely visible, basically proving he went commando for some reason, which also meant that there was basically nothing between me and the sheer force of Dave’s anus.

My bro farted so many times in my face over the last months I couldn’t even count it, but things rarely got this… filthy.

I got my face soaked wet in sweat which wasn’t even mine, but rather from Dave’s ass, fart-scented and fart-flavoured sweat; kink or not, my limits were being tested here.

And apparently, Dave’s job is completely ignoring such limits.

For his 20th and final squat, he just completely sat on my face, spreading his legs wide, so my nose could easily fit in his sweaty, ripe asscrack. He wiggled his ass as if he was wiping the sweat off of it using my face, and then I felt him push.

Bubbles, that’s how I can describe it. That display of flatulence was as wet and disgusting as you imagine, a mix of gas and sweat engulfing my nose and nostrils, making my entire head shake, so rancid I could smell it without even breathing in. 

The fart was so thick I could taste it and my eyes were burning for all that gas.

I feared that Dave’s limit were also being tested here, given how wet that fart was; but no, it was just terrible, terrible air coming out from his sweaty ass.

After almost 20 seconds of torture, I was done.

The sewer comparison I made before was now in full effect: truth to be told, I couldn’t take it anymore, I was drowning, suffocating, and I wanted to get out of there, I needed air, like actual air, oxygen.

Mustering all the strength I have in what passes for “muscles” in my arms, I managed, not without struggle, to actually push Dave’s roaring ass away from my face, which actually surprised him as he tripped over.

I coughed my way to freedom and took deep long breaths. The air in the room was still filthy but it felt like pure fresh air compared to the source, the depths of my friend’s ass who, in the meantime, actually stopped farting. I remained there, lying down, wondering how I could even survive those blasts.

Despite being disgusted, pre-cum leaked from the tip of my hard cock, so I guess this wasn’t beyond my limits after all. 

As I kept trying to clean my nostrils by taking more deep breaths, I heard Dave, lying next to me just like before, slow clapping, as if he was some kind of villain of a heist movie being (falsely) impressed by the heroes.

I scolded him with an annoyed glare. “What the fuck are you doing now?”

“Not bad for a first day, huh?” he simply said, with a smirk. “You managed to lift me, that’s impressive.”

“Those were my survival instincts kicking in.” I remarked.

I lied down, exhausted, staring at the ceiling, Dave doing the same. I could once again hear the faint rock music coming from his phone on the desk: good, I was afraid today’s ass-thunders made me deaf.

“I wanna try again tomorrow.” I admitted. “No farts though.” I quickly added.

He laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

We remained silent for a few moments, as I tried to ignore the massive boner I still had.

“Look at us.” Dave said. “Covered in sweat, panting. It’s like we just had sex.” he joked.

“You wish.” I replied.

A few more moments of silence, a silence that Dave broke one last time by doing a deft leg-lift to rip a quick, loud, wet toot.

“Told ya it’s leg day.”

The End

[tinybitsubby]

Have any subs ever wished something was a rule just so you’d be better at something? I was thinking the other day I wish I had a rule about our closet.

I am a very lucky girl in that our bedroom closet is very large with tons of enclosed armoire hanging space, shoe cupboards, a big island with storage, etc. It should be very easy to keep organized, but because it is so big, it is often the dump spot when we need to get things out of the way in other rooms. I’m a grown up and should be able to prioritize it as needed but, for some reason, it’s a blind spot for me.

When it starts to get a bit messy (such is never super bad, but an annoyance) I’ll go in there in the morning to get my clothes and think “I should get back in here later to fix it up”. The problem is that it’s at the far far end of the house and I often don’t go back in there until bedtime. It just sort of falls off my radar. I don’t really have other parts of my life like that because I’m rather type A, but I don’t know what it is about this closet.

Anyway, the other day I was thinking that I wish there was a rule around the closet. I try really hard to avoid painful punishment spankings as I’m not a masochist. I was thinking that if I knew that every Sunday he was going to go in there and check the tidiness and deliver a punishment spanking if it didn’t meet MY normal standard, that I’d most likely have no problem keeping it more in the forefront of my mind. One single failing would most likely keep that thing sparkling for a year.

Then I think, this is stupid, I should be able to prioritize it simply because I want to. I’m guessing he’d feel the same way. I’m an organized, dependable person in general. But, what is it about this one chore?????

I’ve thought about simply pretending to myself that it’s a rule like this. But… but, there’s something different about it actually being a punishable thing that keeps in on your radar. Maybe it’s just because I think about our dynamic so much that the closer being associated more with the D/s would make it easier to remember and even a little more fun to complete.

Or I could just put it on my to-do list like a normal human adult I suppose.

[devilat-thedoor]

Hands To Yourself Pt4

Lovers🤍🤍

I should probably plan out my posting better, but i’m just sending them out as they finish. This one hurt me. So sorry in advance for that. but i hope you still enjoy💖

Part 3

Word count: 10.3k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING! SA)18+ Minors DNI, Unprotected Mirror Sex😏, Alcohol Consumption, some angst, some fluff, and Sage being the absolute worst(i’m actually sorry. i hate her as much as you guys do🙃)

Sunday morning was a busy one. You and Jake had spent the evening prior getting the pool ready and cleaning the grill up. Now you stood in your kitchen, still in your pajamas, prepping food for the cookout later and trying to tidy up as best as you could. You were working overtime to keep your mind occupied, trying your damnedest to avoid thinking about that message and picture. Despite his best efforts to assure you that he wasn’t worried about it and that you shouldn’t be either, Jake still knew you were stressed. You were rushing past him through the patio doors, carrying a handful of towels outside, when he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Baby, slow down.” He took the stack of linens from you and placed them on the wooden bench next to the grill. “We have time to get everything done, you don’t need to rush.”

You took the opportunity to bring your arms around him and rest your head on his chest. “I know, I’m sorry.” You muttered the words as he kissed the top of your head. “My anxiety is just through the roof today. I don’t know what’s going on, I just have this weird feeling in my chest…” You closed your eyes, listening to the soft beat of Jake’s heart. A sound that always calms your nerves. “I can’t stop thinking about that picture, Jake. About who sent it.”

“I know, my love.” His hand rubbed small circles on your back. “I don’t want you to keep stressing about it. It’s probably just some weirdo trying to stir up problems for entertainment.”

Before you could respond, a voice echoed inside of the house from behind you. You both turned to look through the open back door to see Josh and Sam tromping through the kitchen. “We brought some booze!” Sam shouted, holding up a case of seltzer in one hand and a case of corona in the other.

“And tequilaaaa!” Josh called after, shaking 2 bottles of the clear liquid, one in each fist. “Where do you want this?”

You pointed towards the cooler sitting by the table without a word and moved past the two brothers standing in the doorway. Stepping back into the air conditioned kitchen, you pulled a knife from the block on the counter and placed it atop the wooden cutting board. You went to the fridge to retrieve the fruit Jake had picked out yesterday after you went to the car. When you closed the refrigerator door, Sammy was standing behind it, eliciting a gasp from you as you jumped. “Jesus, Sam. Don’t do that.” Your tone came out a little more harsh than you meant it and Sam took notice.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” His voice was quiet before he cleared his throat. “Are you okay? You’re not very bubbly today.” He took the strawberries from your hand and carried them to the sink to rinse them.

You let out a soft sigh, and followed him to the sink, standing beside him. “I don’t feel bubbly. I feel anxious.” He took the blueberries from you and handed back a bowl filled with the freshly cleaned strawberries. “Sammy…” You held the bowl, waiting for him to dump the blueberries into it.

He looked down at you as he turned the faucet off, “Yeah?” Your shaky voice caught him off guard, his own voice now laced with concern. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You moved to the island, setting the bowl of berries down and picking up the large watermelon to place on the cutting board. “Do you remember the morning after your birthday party?”

Sam was silent for a few seconds, deep in thought. “Ummm. Yeah, I think so.” He was drying his hands on a dish towel, “When somebody slashed your tire, right? I took you to get a new one and we changed it in front of Daniel’s house.”

“Wait, what?”

His brows creased in confusion, “Oh. Was that not what you were talking about?”

You picked your knife up, slicing into the melon, “No. I mean, yeah but- What makes you say somebody slashed my tire? I thought it was just flat. Like maybe I ran over a nail or something.” You would’ve known if the tire had been purposely sabotaged. Wouldn’t you?

Sam gathered his hair into a loose bun to help you cut the fruit, tossing into the giant bowl on the countertop. “The tip of a blade or razor or something was broken off in the tire, it fell out of the hole when we took it off.” After finishing the strawberries, he grabbed the pineapple that sat in front of him, twisting the head off. “Shit, I thought you saw it too. Why are you worried about this now, anyways? That was months ago.” He let out a chuckle, expecting you to laugh with him, but when he looked at you, your face was even more troubled than when he’d first come into the kitchen. “Y/N, what is it? Is Jake giving you shit about the tire or something?”

You dropped the knife to the board, turning to face him, “Sammy, somebody was watching us out there. Taking pictures of us. Of me.” You pointed your finger at yourself, the panic beginning to set in. “Jake almost had me believing that it was just someone trying to stir up drama, but I think I’m being stalked…” Your knees started to feel weak and you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. “Who would want to do this?” The words were choked leaving your mouth, the crushing feeling in your chest becoming heavier with each inhale.

Sam tried to calm you down, keeping his voice soft as he held your arms in his hands, but you couldn’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. When you sunk to the kitchen floor, holding your chest as you tried to even out your own breathing, Sammy began to panic as well. “Jake! Jake, you need to get in here!”

It was a split second before your boyfriend was kneeling in front of you, asking you what was wrong. When you couldn’t respond, he snapped to Sam, “What the fuck happened?” He listened as his brother gave a speedy rundown of your conversation. “Okay, Y/N, look at me. Breathe with me, baby.” He took a deep inhale, waiting for you to follow suit before letting the air go. He repeated it over and over until you were able to breathe normally again. “Why don’t we get you a hot shower, Me and the guys will finish up.” You allowed him to help you up from the floor and usher you out of the kitchen. He turned to his brothers, mouthing that he’d be back in a minute.

Once inside the bathroom, Jake closed the door behind him and watched as you stood in front of the mirror, raking your hands through your hair. “Jake, I feel like I’m going crazy. Tell me I’m not going fucking crazy.”

He came up behind you, his hands grabbing your hips and turning you around to face him, “You’re not crazy, love… But something strange is going on.” When he felt your body tense in his hold, he shook his head. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, Y/N. I promise you, I’ll figure it out. Will you just try to relax today?”

You let your head fall back, using Jake’s arms as leverage to keep you from tipping backwards, and stared at the ceiling. “I’m gonna need a lot of help if you want me to relax…” His hands traveled to your ass and you lifted your head to look at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow.

“What kind of help are you thinking of, love?” He gave your ass cheeks a squeeze over your shorts.

Pushing his hands from you, you turned to face the mirror again, “Not now, Jake.” You rolled your eyes at him, pulling your shirt off to prepare for your shower. When your shirt hit the floor, Jake’s hand wrapped around you again, landing flat on your stomach.

He stepped closer, his body pressed against yours, “I think I know just how to get you to relax.” His free hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts to find that you had no panties on. “Tell me to stop and I’ll leave this bathroom right now so you can shower in peace.” His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered to you. He dragged a finger through your folds, surprised at how wet you were.

You felt Jake’s teeth graze your shoulder as his fingers teased you. “Baby, your brothers…” The words tumbled out through a gasp when he added the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. Your head dropped to his shoulder as you gripped the marbled sink in front of you. “Jake…”

His lips were on your ear, “Do you want me to stop?” Jake’s hand traveled lower, his middle finger pushing into your soaked core, drawing a raspy moan from your throat. “Just say the word, love.” His voice was like quicksand, sucking you in and never letting go.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathed out, rolling your hips with the rhythm of his hand. He sunk a second finger into you, the heel of his palm keeping a delicious amount of pressure on your aching clit. “Oh fuuuuck, Jake…” Your words were drawn out, whimpers cascading from your mouth.

Jake was grinding into you from behind, trying to get a bit of relief for himself. “You make prettier sounds than my guitar when I play you, sweet girl.” He cooed in your ear and you could feel his smirk on your skin, “Look at how beautiful you are in my hands. Look at you.”

LIfting your head, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Jake’s chin rested on your shoulder and you let your eyes connect with his. Your mouth was hung open as your breath left in huffs. His gaze alone was leading you right to your tipping point. “Wanna feel you, baby.” You grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand from moving inside of you. “I wanna watch you make me cum.” Jake had successfully made sure that he was the only thought in your head.

He removed his hand from your shorts and yanked them down, letting them pool around your ankles. “Can’t be too loud, love.” He pushed you to bend over the sink then and pulled his pants down, freeing his cock. “You gonna be good and keep quiet for me?”

You could feel the head of his dick brushing through your wet folds. “Yes, Jake, I’ll be quiet, baby.” Just as your eyes met his in the mirror again, he buried himself into you. You bit down on your lip to stifle the groan that wanted to escape. Jake drew out of you, almost fully. His palm cracked over your ass, forcing a ripple across the plush flesh. He brought his hand up to grab your shoulder before filling you back up. His cock was hitting the perfect spot with every deep stroke and you couldn’t hold it together anymore. A long whine slipped through your lips, growing in octaves with each passing second.

Jake’s hand left your shoulder to clamp over your mouth. “Hush, pretty girl.” His index and middle finger hooked into your mouth, pressing on your tongue as you closed your lips on them, “Don’t want my brothers to hear you getting fucked like this. Bent over, taking my cock like the good girl you are.” His voice was a mere whisper as his other hand traveled from your hip to rub lazy swirls on your aching clit. You could tell he was fighting his release by the way he slowed his hips, trying to get you there first. You sucked hard on his fingers and when he hit you with an impossibly deep thrust, you squeezed your thighs together, unintentionally biting down on his fingers as your pussy clenched around him. “Ow! Fuck, Y/N.” He ripped his hand from your mouth, giving it a shake before grabbing you by your hair, yanking it until your back was flat against him. “We’re biting now?” You caught his reflection in the mirror, a devious glint in eye.

His hips snapped into you harshly and you were wound so tight, ready to burst at any moment. The hand that was tangled in your hair left, finding its way to your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers. “Jesus, I- Shit. Jake, I’m gonna-.” Your eyes screwed shut so tight, you feared they may never open again. You faintly heard Jake mumble to open your eyes, but through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t comply. “Ahh.” You hissed out. Your eyes shot open at the sudden sting you felt radiate through your shoulder, to see Jake, his teeth latched onto your skin.

He chomped hard, you were sure the imprint would be there for days. His tongue darted out to soothe over the area. “I told you to open your eyes.” The arrogance in his voice coupled with the drag of his hot tongue over your bruising flesh is what did it for you. Jake’s eye met yours in the mirror, he could feel you tighten around him like a vice grip. “C’mon, love. Let me have it.” And you did. You gave him every bit of you as your pussy fluttered around him, soaking him in your release. “Shit…” His teeth were clenched, watching your jaw hang open with no sound coming out, your brows pulled together in pure ecstasy. “Such a good girl, so fucking beautiful.” His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he emptied inside of you, his shallow breaths fanning down your back. When he slipped himself out of you, your legs shook, threatening to fold beneath you. Jake’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you steady while you regained some shred of composure. “You okay, baby?” His words were muffled against your skin.

You gave a quiet hum and a nod, “Better than okay.” Turning around, you draped your arms around his neck, bringing his lips to yours. “I love you so fucking much, Jacob Kiszka. You know that, right?” You looked at him, admiring all the details of his face that you don’t spend enough time appreciating. His big eyes, the color of fresh coffee, shrouded by his dark lashes. The strong, sharp angle of his jaw and the small divot at the point of his chin. Your fingertips brushed over his lips as his smile formed. That smile… Beaming and wide, a display of perfect white teeth, framed by the prominent cupid’s bow of his heart-shaped lips. It made the apples of his cheeks swell, his shallow dimples making their appearance. Your index finger moved to his nose, your favorite part of his face, tracing along the bridge of it.

Jake playfully nipped at your finger, causing a giggle to bubble from your mouth. “I love you so much more, my beautiful girl.” He cupped your face, pulling you in for another kiss. “Get a shower, I’m gonna go put the guys to work on getting everything ready.” He let go of you then, heading for the door. Just as he twisted the knob, he turned back to face you. “You know they probably heard you…” He had that devious smirk on his lips again, slipping through the door and closing it before you could say a thing.

________________________________________________________

You sat on the floor of your closet, a towel wrapped around your wet body. You were digging through your tote of bathing suits, trying to decide on which one to wear for the day. Jake’s voice called from the hallway outside of the bedroom, “Hey, babe. Are you dressed? Odessa is looking for you.” He came into view, standing in the closet doorway, watching you sift through the tote. “Wear this one, this is my favorite.” He picked up the plain black bikini top and quickly found the bottoms to match it. It was definitely one of the skimpier ones you owned. Thong bottoms and cups that left almost nothing to the imagination.

Snatching the garments from him, you threw them back into the bin. “I’m not wearing that in front of our guests, Jake.” You scolded him as he chuckled under his breath. “Go away, you’re no help.” You playfully shooed him with your hands, calling after he was exiting the bedroom, “And send Dess in here!”

A few minutes later, Odessa came into the room. “Y/N? You in here, hun?”

“In the closet!” You called back, “Come help me pick out a swimsuit!”

You greeted her with a bright smile as she entered the closet, but it faltered when you saw Sage standing behind her. You tried quickly to recover your smile, but Sage had already noticed. “Hey. I hope it’s okay that I came…” She twirled the ends of hair as though she was nervous. “Dess had mentioned that you guys were having a cookout today… So, I figured- I just thought-” You stared at her as she stammered through her words, “If I’m crashing, I can go…”

Odessa looked back and forth between you and Sage, trying to decipher what was going on. When she raised her eyebrows at you, a questioning look, you did everything you could to avoid having to answer it. “Uhh, no. No it’s fine, Sage.” You shook your head, looking up at her. “I just didn’t know you were coming. But you’re more than welcome to stay, we’re happy to have you.” There was an awkward tension between the two of you and you weren’t entirely sure if you were the only one that felt it. She gave a small smile and a nod, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“Okay, so you need a bikini!” Odessa clapped her hands, sitting on the floor beside you. “Who owns this many swimsuits???” She dug her hands into the tote, pulling out handfuls of the spandex material.

You laughed at her shocked expression, “Gotta have one for every occasion.” Pulling out a few options, you laid them out on the floor. Different colors and patterns adorning each one. “These are the safest bets.”

She looked over the display, “What do you mean safest bets?”

“The ones that cover the most, I suppose?” You shrugged, “Don’t wanna show my goodies off to the boys, yanno?”

“Oh, come on.” Odessa scoffed. “Screw the boys, you’re hot. Fucking flaunt it, babe!” Her eyes landed on something in the tote and she dug for it, finally pulling it out and holding it up. “Y/N, you have to wear this one!” She shoved it in your hands.

You held it up, examining it. It was an underwire bikini top with a black gingham print. The fabric of the cups stopped about two inches from where the wire met in between them. It still covered more than the one Jake had tried to choose, but not very much more. “I don’t know, Dess. If I remember correctly…” You paused, digging for the matching bottoms in the bin, yanking it free from the tangles of all the other articles. “Yep. There’s essentially no coverage for my ass.” You showcased the bottoms to her. Not quite a thong, but the way your hips and ass would fit into it, it may as well be.

She pushed your shoulder lightly, “Who cares? Sage, wouldn’t she look so good in this one?” She looked up at her friend who was still standing in the closet doorway.

“Definitely… You should wear that one, I’m sure Jake would love it…” She gave a forced smile, but you could hear the disinterest in her voice.

Looking back to Odessa, you gave in. “You know what, fuck it.” You stood up and pulled the bottoms on under your towel. Once they were situated comfortably, you pulled the towel off and slid the top on, adjusting the cups so your breasts fit inside of them. “Dess, can you tighten the straps a little?”

“Yeah, of course.” She stood up as well, moving behind you to carry out your request. She finished one side and you gathered your hair to move it so she could get the other side. “What the fuck…” Her finger grazed over a spot on your shoulder, “Babe, what kind shit are you and Jake into?”

When you turned to look at her, she was gawking in amusement. “What do you me-” You tried to tilt your head to see what she was referring to, catching a glimpse of the deep bite mark, still present in your skin. “Fuck…” Instinctively, your hand shot up to cover it, a bright pink tint creeping over your face. You could feel the indents under your fingertips. “I guess it can get a little out of hand sometimes.”

Odessa erupted into a fit of laughter, “You guys are kinky! I like it.” You couldn’t help but laugh with her, the both of you cackling in the small space. Once your laughter died down, you noticed that Sage was gone. “Where did she go?” Odessa asked, pointing behind her to where Sage had been standing moments prior.

“No idea.” You offered a shrug and turned to pull a pair of denim shorts from the shelf above your head. You slipped the shorts on and straightened up, “Let’s go, babe.” You grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the room with you, making your way through the house. You could hear everyone’s voices coming from out on the patio mixed with the notes of the guitar solo from Hotel California by the Eagles.

Odessa stepped out the backdoor before you, announcing her presence as she yelled, “Guys, Y/N and Jake have super kinky sex and bite each other!” Her laugh bubbling out before she even finished the sentence. “Look at her shoulder!”

“Odessa!” You covered your face with your hands as everyone’s eyes fell on you.

Josh piped up from his seat to your left, “Believe me, we heard already…”

Your eyes flashed to Jake over the grill, the arrogant smirk crossing his lips. “At least you know she’s always satiated.” He sent a wink at you and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, Alright. Can we not talk about my sex life anymore?” You pleaded to nobody in particular.

Sam came through the door behind you, holding the bowl of fruit in one hand and a tray of corn on the cob in the other, joining in the conversation at your expense. “You thought that was bad, Josh? Try staying in the hotel room next to theirs.” He put the food down on the table, turning to face you with a grin, “I swear every time she visited on the last tour, I got no sleep.”

You held your middle finger up to him, pursing your lips, “Oh fuck you, Sammy.”

“Yeah wouldn’t you like to.” He wiggled his eyebrows, sticking his tongue out at you.

You shook your head at him with a chuckle and turned away, walking a few feet to Jake. He was standing over the grill, spatula in hand, and there was Sage. She was perched on the bench next to the grill in her bikini, already having shed her clothes. She was mid sentence in a conversation with your boyfriend when you walked up, his attention immediately finding you. “Woof.” His eyes raked down your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts, lifted high in the swim top. “How is this one better than the one I picked out?” His finger grazed the underwire that rested against your sternum.

“Hmmm.” You snaked your arms around his waist, “because this one covers more than just my nipples, Jacob.” He turned in your hold, draping an arm over your shoulder to hold you close while he flipped a couple of the burgers on the grill. “Smells good. How much longer?” Your stomach was beginning to grumble.

Jake kissed the top of your head, “first batch is almost done, go get a drink, love. I’ll make you a plate when the burgers are finished.” You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth and caught Sage staring at you. At Jake. Like she was willing him to look at her. To give her his attention.

You pulled away from him, “I think I’m gonna get in the water.” You unbuttoned your shorts and slid the denim down your legs. When you turned your back to Jake, you felt his palm crack across your ass.

Before you could scold him, he turned to his twin, “You see the way it jiggles, man?” Jake pointed at the red handprint on you. Josh responded by shaking his head with a grin, sipping on his tequila.

“If you wanted me to make it jiggle, you could’ve just asked, baby.” You gave your hips a slight shake, your voice dripping with honey as you looked back at your boyfriend, a sly smirk on your lips.

Josh let out a loud whistle and a ‘Damn, mama!’ while Odessa hooted, “Shake it, baby!” She held her beer up, saluting you. You thought you heard Sage scoff behind you, but Odessa was already distracting you from it. “Are you getting in? Because if you are, I’m right there with you.” She pulled her cream colored, crochet halter dress over her head, revealing her lilac bandeau bikini.

“Hell yeah, come on!” You grabbed a white claw from the cooler and went to the corner of the pool that held the steps. The water was cool, coaxing you further into the pool and out of the unrelenting heat. Odessa was right behind you, trying to convince Danny to get in with her. You called out to him, “Danny, get in! The water feels great!” You popped the tab on your can, chugging half of it in a few gulps.

Odessa continued to beg, “Honey, would you just get in the water?” Her hazel-colored doe eyes pleading with him. “I just wanna swim with you for a bit…Do this for me and I’ll do you a favor later.” You chuckled at her suggestive tone and watched as she held her drink above the water that came up to her waist.

Danny finally stood from his chair, yanking his shirt over his head, “You know what those eyes do to me, Dess.” He came down the steps, sinking into the water and pulling Odessa into his arms. She leaned against him, connecting her lips with his.

Wanting to give them a private moment, you trudged over to the edge of the pool, closest to the grill. You opened your mouth to call out to Jake, but closed it when you noticed Sage at his side. He was speaking and she eyed him, sucked in deep to whatever he was saying. You saw a faint smile tug at his lips as he spoke and she broke out in a laugh. The sound was like grinding metal in your ears as you watched the scene before you. She said something to him, leaning in with a flirty chuckle to put her hand on his chest. You were frozen, unable to look away from whatever was unfolding in front of you. Jake took a step away from her to break the contact she’d made, her hand falling to her side. He kept a friendly smile as she continued to talk and giggle. You wanted to know what they were talking about. Are they reminiscing about the other night? Do they have some kind of connection that you don’t know about? Why is Sage suddenly getting under your skin so badly?

“She’s getting awfully cozy…” Josh’s voice brought you back to the present as he sat on the edge beside you, letting his feet dangle into the water. “I can see it all over your face, Y/N. You have nothing to worry about.” He turned to look at Jake and Sage before returning his gaze back to you, “Jake is head over heels for you, mama. No other woman could steal his attention.” His tone was soft and genuine and, as if on cue, Jake looked away from her, his eyes scanning over the area until they landed on you. He gave you that warm, familiar Jake smile and your nerves seem to ease at the look.

You held Jake’s eyes for a few seconds before looking back to his twin. “Deep down I know that, Josh…But there’s some insecurities buried in here.” You pointed to the center of your chest. “I trust Jake, I do. With my heart, my mind, my body. I trust him with everything.” You took a composing breath, “But why does she have to blatantly flirt with him, like shamelessly. As if I’m not even here.” You chugged the rest of your drink, placing the can on the cement, outside of the pool.

Josh leaned back, popping open the cooler to grab you another can. “Maybe she doesn’t see anything wrong with it… I mean, considering everything…” He cracked the tab to open it, handing it you.

“What do you mean?” You could feel the slight gape to your mouth as you stared at him. “What do you know, Josh?” You took the can from him, raising your eyebrows as you awaited an answer.

You could’ve sworn his grin grew three sizes bigger. “Probably a lot more than you’d like me to know.” He brought his index and middle fingers to his mouth, flicking his tongue between the two digits and forcing his eyes to roll back in his head. He shook with laughter at your shocked expression.

“Eat shit, Josh!” You splashed a heavy gush of water at him while he continued laughing, shielding his face. Of course Jake told him. They tell each other everything. You knew Josh wasn’t judging you, but you wished you would’ve known that he was clued in on your recent escapades. Did Jake tell Danny and Sam too? Did Odessa know? Your voice took on a solemn tone, “I think I fucked up, Josh…”

Before you could elaborate, Jake called out to everyone, “Foods all done, guys! Come eat.” Danny rushed out of the pool, dragging Odessa with him. Sam was already piling things onto his plate and Sage was standing back, her eyes never leaving Jake as he moved around the table, making a plate. “Baby, come eat. I got you a little of everything.” He looked at you and pointed to the plate in his hand.

Josh pulled his legs out of the water, standing up. “Come on, sweetheart.” He offered you his hands. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and he mimicked the gesture, hauling you up and out of the water. “Let’s grub, we’ll talk in a bit.” He gave you a soft smile before walking towards the covered patio.

You grabbed your drink and followed Josh’s path, ducking into the shaded area. Jake was at your side with a clean towel. “Here, my love.” He gave you a minute to pat your skin dry before ushering you into a seat, sliding into the chair next to you at the head of the table. Josh made his way to the seat on the other side of Jake, but Sage beat him to it, placing her almost empty plate on the table in front of the chair. Her fingertips grazed Jake’s arm that rested on the table as she sat down. You stabbed at a piece of pasta salad on your plate, not feeling very hungry anymore, and dropped the fork to down some of your white claw. Your boyfriend picked up on the shift in your body language and his hand found yours under the table. “Please eat, baby.”

Sammy took the open seat next to you. Josh shuffled into the seat across from him, beside Sage, mumbling something under his breath. Danny sat at the opposite end of the table from Jake, Odessa perched on his lap taking a large bite from her hot dog. You couldn’t help the smile that formed as you looked upon your small chosen family, giving Jake’s hand a light squeeze. His hand never left you while you ate. When you pulled your fingers from his, he let his hand rest on your leg. You shared conversation with everyone around the table for a while, catching Jake’s eyes every so often. The alcohol was flowing, and plates were emptying. You sat back in your chair, listening to Jake and Danny have an animated discussion across the table.

Sam nudged you with his elbow, gaining your attention, “Wanna shotgun a white claw?” He had a mischievous smirk on his face, one that you’d come to know very well over the years. You gave him an excited nod, tossing back the rest of whatever was in your current can. He pointed around the table, “You guys wanna shotgun with us?” Josh was the first to agree, followed by Odessa. You turned to Jake, waiting for him to give in. His lip curled slowly before he nodded at you. Sam didn’t give Danny a choice as he forced a can into his hand. “Sage?” He held a can out to her and you turned to look at her as she took it from him.

You all moved to stand in a huddle beside the pool, passing a knife around to pop holes in the cans. Once everyone had their can ready, you spoke, “Last one to finish takes a shot of tequila.” A grin spread over your cheeks, “First one to finish takes two. GO!” Everyone rushed to crack their cans open and chug the liquid. You locked eyes with Josh, knowing he’d finish first, as usual. And he did, but you were right behind him, only dropping your can a second after him. Jake finished after you, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You looked up at Sam, waiting until he pulled the can away from his mouth and shoved him backwards, his arms flailing as he crashed into the water. Odessa sputtered out a laugh, spewing liquid from her mouth. Sam emerged, his hair clinging to his face as he blew water from his lips. Gasping through your own laughter, you turned just in time to see Jake tossing his shirt behind him and rushing you, an evil grin plastered on his face. “No… Jake, wait. Don’t-“ Your pleas were interrupted by Jake lifting you in a swift movement, effectively tackling you so that you were both plunging beneath the surface.

He came up before you, tugging your arm to pull you up with him. You brought your legs around his waist, forcing him to hold you while he pushed your soaked hair from your forehead. “I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t resist.” The water was at chest level on Jake. He locked one arm around your back as you cling to him and turned around to face everyone else, “You guys gonna get in?”

Danny took the opportunity to pick Odessa up, her petite frame fighting against his grasp in a fit of giggles, and effortlessly tossed her in, diving in right behind her. Sage shrugged and walked over to the steps to let herself in. You looked up at Josh as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. “Hey Josh.” He dropped his eyes to you. “Can you go get in the shed and grab my hot dog floatie?” You pouted your lip at him.

“You don’t gotta give me the puppy dog stare, sweetheart.” He shook his head, jogging to the small shed at the end of the pool. He returned with your float and tossed it in the water with a couple other ones he’d grabbed.

You broke away from Jake to climb up onto the hot dog, straddling it. “Thank you, Joshy!” He offered a sweet smile in return.

Sam, being himself, couldn’t stop the lewd remark that flowed from his mouth with a smirk, “Since you’re climbing on wieners today, can I be next Y/N?” You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Sage cackled behind you. Jake jumped in before you could respond, lunging at his little brother and dunking his head under the water. Sam came back up, pushing his brother in the chest as they began to wrestle, splashing you in the process.

They bumped into the float, toppling you over. The unexpected impact sent a flood of water down your throat. You came back up, choking and reaching for something to hold onto. Jake caught you, dragging your body against his. “Fuck, baby. I’m sorry.” Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as you coughed the water from your lungs. His hands found your kicking legs under the surface and guided them around his hips. “Are you okay?”

Your throat was on fire and all you could muster was a weak nod as your chest heaved. You turned your head to Sam, an apologetic tilt to his mouth, “You’re fucking in for it.” Your voice was a raspy whisper as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What about him? It wasn’t just my fault!” Sam was defensive at your threat. “You play favorites…” He crossed his arms over his chest like a defiant child, complete with a pouty lip.

“He didn’t make the inappropriate comment, Samuel.” You cocked your eyebrow at him, lips pursed. “Besides, he’ll get his payback in private.”

Jake’s hands gripped your ass under the water, “And I’ll enjoy every second of it…” He mumbled for only you to hear, dropping his head to kiss the fading bite mark on your shoulder. You shivered at the contact. Your thighs instinctively tightened around him and you could feel the soft bulge in swim trunks, pressing against your covered pussy. You knew he could feel it too by the way his fingers dug further into the cushion of your ass cheeks. You shifted in his arms, using his shoulders for leverage, and dropped your hips lower, subtly grinding into him with the movement. “Don’t start, love.” His voice was barely a whisper. You wanted to do it again, but you were distracted by Odessa’s voice.

Looking in her direction, you found her sitting on Danny’s shoulders. “Guys, let's play chicken!” Her balance faltered and she grasped Danny’s face to keep from falling off of him, a crackling laugh leaving her throat.

“Ooooh lover, c’mon!” You broke away from him, standing on your own feet. “Get me up on your shoulders!” He gave you a playful smirk before dipping beneath the water. You felt his shoulders hit the back of your thighs as he began lifting you, his head snug between your legs. When he emerged, you looked down to see him facing the wrong way. His nose was practically brushing over your clit through your bikini bottoms, his hot breath fanning over you. Your hands shot to his hair out of habit as you giggled. “Jake!”

“I don’t think that's how you play the game, brother.” Josh was standing behind Jake, a tequila fed grin on his face. “At least not this game.” He clapped Jake on the back, causing him to stumble, dropping you back into the water.

You kicked over to Josh, latching yourself to his back as you looked at Jake, “How about you be my partner, Joshy? We can take down Danny and Dess.”

“Oh no way! You’re going down, babe!” Odessa challenged, pointing her finger at you.

Josh shook his head, “I don’t think I’m the best option here, mama.” He looked at you over his shoulder, “I’ve had a few too many.” He raised his drink to his mouth, taking a few gulps.

Jake laughed, “Come back to where you belong, baby.” He held his hand out to you, a cocky expression gracing his features. “You know where your place is, love.”

You gave him a sweet smile as you let go of Josh. Slipping your hand into his, he dipped down and had you on his shoulders again in seconds. He interlocked his finger with yours to keep you balanced as your legs hooked under his arms.

Danny called over to his best friend, “Sam, let Sage on your shoulders, you two are a good match”

You looked over to Sam who gave a shrug, turning to Sage. Her eyes flashed to you, or rather Jake beneath you, before she waded her way towards Sam. “Do you think you can handle me, Sammy?” Her flirty tone caught you off guard. She placed her hand on his shoulder, “Don’t get too handsy.” She leaned in close to him to speak, pushing him gently under the water. Sam took the hint, dunking below the surface to bring her up on his shoulders. When he rose out of the water, Sage perched atop of him, she gave a satisfied hum. “I’d say this is a perfect fit, wouldn’t you?” The question was directed at Sammy, but her eyes stayed on Jake as she twirled Sam’s wet hair between her fingers. What the fuck is this? Is she trying to make him jealous?

Josh caught your eyes, giving you a look of confusion. Sam’s cheeks had a light pink tint to them, “Uhhh yeah… Perfect.” His hands gripped her legs to hold her in place. “Who’s first?”

“If I recall, Dess, you said I’m going down?” You wiggled your finger, gesturing for her and Danny to move closer. “You ready to eat your words?” Jake stepped forward until he and Danny were a mere foot apart. Josh stood to the side, deciding to play referee as he rattled off a ridiculous set of rules.

Odessa gave you a challenging glare, spiked with amusement. “Bring it on, babe…” When Josh brought his hand down between the two boys, you and Odessa were going at each other, shoving and grabbing. She put up a good fight as the both of you struggled to keep steady through your cackling. You caught her with a particularly good push, knocking Danny off balance and sending her flying into water behind him. She let out a loud squeal as she went down, dragging her boyfriend with her.

“Hell yeah, baby!” Jake cheered, holding his hand up for a high five. You slapped his palm, feeling a rush of excitement. Odessa came up out of the water, gasping out her loud laugh that you adored. She gave you a thumbs up and climbed onto Danny’s back before offering Sage a ‘good luck’ as Sammy took his place in front of his brother. “You got this, Y/N. Light work.” Jake pressed his lips to the inside of your leg as he eyed his brother with a smirk.

You looked at Sage, a smile plastered on your face, “You ready, Sage?” She met your gaze, chewing on her cheek, and gave a nod as a sinister smile crept over her features. Your smile faltered for a moment before Josh was dropping his hand, initiating the battle. Sam moved forward, allowing Sage to reach for you. You ducked away from her first push and pressed your hands into her shoulders but she locked her legs tightly under Sam’s arms, staying in place. Jake worked in tune with your movements, knowing just when to step forward and when to pull you back. Just when you got a hold of Sage’s arm and gained enough leverage to push her again, her hand shot out and grabbed your hair, yanking hard and ripping you from Jake’s shoulders. Your scalp was stinging as you plummeted into the cool water.

When you came back up for a breath, Odessa was scolding Sage. “Girl, that was cheap! You cheated!”

You rubbed your hand over the sore spot on your head as Sage countered Odessa’s claim. “It was an accident!” She held her hands up, giving a half shrug. “My hand got tangled when I tried to push her, I swear.”

“It’s okay, guys! She won the game…” You don’t know what came over you when the next words slipped from your mouth with an unexpected venom, “But I still got the prize.” You cupped Jake’s face, pulling him in for a rough kiss, ending it with a soft bite to his bottom lip. Everyone gawked in silence as you turned back to Sage, now back in the water and off of Sam’s shoulders, and pursed your lips with a cocky tilt.

____________________________________________________

The day dwindled down, along with the alcohol. You and Sage had kept your distance from one another and everybody took notice. The sun was starting to set and taking the heat with it, leaving you with a chill on your skin. “Baby, I’m gonna go change, can you start a fire in the pit?” You asked Jake as you stood from his lap.

He grabbed your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles before you walked away, “Of course, my love.” He had a slight slur to his words, having fallen victim to multiple beer pong losses against his brothers.

“Y/N, please tell me you have a change of clothes I can steal?” Odessa peeled herself from Danny’s side and followed you into the house.

Giving her a warm smile, you nodded. “I got you, Dess. But first…” You stopped in the kitchen, pulling a bottle of wine from the rack on the wall, “I’m sick of the seltzer, you want a glass?” She answered with an enthusiastic nod and you pulled two glasses from the cabinet, filling them with the red wine. “Here you go, babe.” You passed her a glass before leaving the kitchen to go to your bedroom. Once in the room, you padded to your dresser. “You want sweatpants or shorts?”

Odessa closed the door behind her and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sweatpants, please. It’s getting chilly.” You opened the drawer that held your sweats and tossed her a pair of plain gray ones. She let them land on the bed as she sipped her glass. “Hey, can we talk?” She watched you with a cautious look on her face, like you were an animal that she didn’t want to scare away.

You peeled your bikini top off and replaced it with an old, oversized hoodie that hung to your thighs. “Ummm. Yeah… Is everything okay?” You’d be lying if you said her tone didn’t make you nervous. You pulled a sweatshirt out for her, waiting for a response.

She took the shirt from you, placing her glass on Jake’s nightstand. “What is going on with you and Sage?”

You slid your bottoms down your legs, opting to play dumb, “What do you mean?” You dropped your eyes to the floor as you pulled on a pair of clean underwear. “Nothing is going on?”

Odessa cocked her eyebrow at you, knowing you were full of shit. “It’s clearly something…” She pulled the sweatpants on over her swimsuit bottoms, “There’s been nothing but hostility between you two all day, Y/N.” She unclasped her top and let it fall to the floor to put the sweatshirt on. “I thought you guys got along well. If you didn’t like her, you should’ve told me… I wouldn’t have invited her to come today.” Her expression was almost sad and you broke, spilling everything to her.

“No, Dess. That’s not it.” You started picking at your cuticles. “I do like Sage. Or I did. I don’t know… It’s complicated.” Sitting on the edge of the bed to avoid pacing the room, you pulled her down to sit beside you. You took a hefty gulp of your wine and gave her all the dirty details. “I liked her too much, I think. Me and Jake, we… Well, the three of us, we sort of had a-” You raked your hands through your hair, taking a composing breath. “We had a threesome, well, we kind of did it twice. But the second time, I don’t know, Dess… She was acting differently, almost like she just wanted Jake to herself. The way she would just stare at him, it didn’t sit right with me… She cuddled up to him, draped her body over him. It was weird.” Taking another drink, Odessa gave you a nod, waiting for you to continue. “And then today, I was caught off guard when she showed up. I hadn’t talked to her since that night and it felt a little awkward to be in the same room as her, but it was fine. Then she stood out there, blatantly flirting with Jake, touching him, laughing too hard at his jokes. Oh GOD and the longing stares?. It made me so fucking mad. Like she just didn’t give a fuck that I was even there. She was so shameless about it. And after that stunt she pulled playing chicken… Ugh, I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was like I needed to mark Jake as my territory so she would get the hint, yanno? And that’s not the kind of person I am, you know that. Me and Jake have never had to hang all over one another to feel secure in our relationship.” You finished your rant and Odessa took a minute to soak it all in.

Her brows knitted as a troubled expression crossed her face. “You should be careful with her, Y/N.” She didn’t elaborate and your anxiety bloomed in your chest.

“Be careful with her? What does that mean, Odessa?” Your tone was becoming frantic as she stayed quiet. “Dess, what the hell? I let her fuck my boyfriend! It’s a little too late to be careful now?!”

“Okay, just relax.” She put her hand on your arm in a soothing manner, “I just-” She broke off, searching for the right wording. “Alright, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this… She’s my best friend, but I love you and Jake and it would absolutely destroy me if something came between the two of you because of somebody I brought into your circle.” She took a breath and picked up her wine, emptying the glass with a few swallows. “She’s kind of developing a pattern of this… She sets her sights on someone she wants and spirals from there. Her ex left her because of a situation she got into.”

You cut her off, “Sage told me that her ex girlfriend was manipulative and abusive and that’s why she was the one that left.” The confusion on your face was only mimicked by Odessa.

She shook her head, “Ex girlfriend? No, her ex was a man… He was actually a really sweet guy, gave her everything she could ask for. But it still wasn’t enough.” The looming feeling in your chest began to grow as she went on, “Her ex had a friend, Sage was attracted to him, but she was clearly in a relationship and the friend had a girlfriend. She came up with the idea that they should try ‘swinging’?” Odessa brought her fingers up in air quotes. “So Sage essentially manipulates her ex into proposing the idea himself so it wasn’t obvious that she just wanted to sleep with his friend. But it happened and then Sage continued to sleep with the friend, sneaking around, lying to her ex. Well, him and the girlfriend eventually caught on to what was happening.”

You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights the way your eyes were bugging from your head. “Please tell me you’re lying…” You searched her face for any indication that she might just be messing with you.

She chewed on her lower lip, “I wish I was… Her ex left her and his friend didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, he wanted to fix the relationship he’d ruined. Sage was a mess for a bit, but then she just continued on, hooking up with random people, like nothing ever happened.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “Dess, she told me she never slept with a man before. I fell right into her fucking trap, didn’t I?” Now you were pacing the room, “She knew exactly what to fucking say to me.. Knew exactly how get what she wanted and I just fucking handed it to her on a god damn silver platter!”

Odessa gripped your shoulders, halting your movements. “Hey, Just cut it off now, Y/N. Jake is yours and she’ll never take him away from you.” You took a deep breath, letting her words soothe you. You were angry at yourself for letting her manipulate you into giving her just what she wanted from you. Jake. Your Jake. “You have the power here, just put an end to it, babe.”

She pulled you into a comforting hug as a knock sounded on the door, Danny’s voice calling from the other side. “Odessa? Are you guys coming back out? We got a good fire going.” She pulled away from you and asked if you were okay to go back out and join everyone. You gave a soft ‘yeah’ and she hooked her arm around yours, moving to open the door and greet her boyfriend. “Finally…” Danny threw his hands in the air, “Josh is singing preschool campfire songs, Jake is so drunk that Oliver Reed decided to make an appearance and Sage and Sam are flirting like awkward, prepubescent teenagers. Shit’s weird.” Odessa broke away from you, wrapping her arms around Danny’s waist as they walked down the hallway.

“Oh, Jake is gonna be a blast to try and get into bed tonight…” You chuckled through your sarcasm. You went into the living room to grab the blanket from the couch, then into the kitchen to refill your wine. When you stepped out onto the patio, Jake’s eyes immediately landed on you and he yelled your name in the thick, british accent. A smile tugged at your lips as you made your way to him, sitting in front of the fire on a cushioned wicker chair. “You feeling pretty good, Jakey?” You sunk onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He rested one of his hands on your legs that hung over his own and used the other to hold your back. “I feel fucking fantastic.” His eyes were glossy and hooded, telling you just how much he’d had to drink. You brushed his hair from his face before scanning over everyone else. Danny and Odessa sat tucked together on the wicker loveseat. Your eyes shot to Sam, hearing him let out a chuckle. Sage was draped over him on the chair he sat in, leaned in close as she whispered something in his ear. You watched as her lips brushed his neck, Sammy’s eyes fluttering at the contact. Feeling like an intruding presence, you quickly looked away, finding Josh. He was in the grass in front of the firepit, singing just as Danny had described.

You kissed Jake’s lips softly and slid off of him so go sit by Josh in the grass. You pulled the blanket around your shoulders and offered half to him. He took the opposite corner and tucked it around himself, scooting in closer to you. You laid your head on his shoulder, listening to him croon an acapella rendition of Stand By Me by Ben E. King. The heat of the flames warmed your face, leaving you relaxed and content as you sipped your wine. Closing your eyes, you hummed along with Josh, tuning out all the other sounds around you. When the song was finished, Josh nudged you, “You okay, mama?”

You lifted your head to look at him, “Yeah, why do you ask?”

His gaze flicked to Sam and Sage before he turned his attention back to the fire. “There was a lot of tension here for a while earlier…And I said we’d talk later” He picked up the bottle of water from the ground beside him, taking a slow drink. You watched as he wiped a drop from the corner of his mouth, realizing that he was almost completely sober. “I just wanna make sure you know that you have nothing to worry about when it comes to him. To your trust in him.” He gave your knee a pat the way your father would after a lecture and you smiled up at him as he continued. “Jake doesn’t have eyes for anybody but you, Y/N. Nothing will change that.”

You believed Josh. But just because you trusted Jake, that didn’t mean you could trust Sage. Your mind went back to what Odessa had shared with you and you let it all loose on Josh, giving him the full rundown. “And that’s where I fucked up, Josh.” You pulled at the blades of grass, shaking your head. “I gave her exactly what she wanted. Fuck. I’m so stupid.” You palmed your forehead, “There were so many red flags. So many gut feelings that I ignored. She fucking played me.”

Josh grabbed your hand, “You’re not stupid, sweetheart. You just always fight to see the best in people.” He bumped you with his shoulder, “You can’t beat yourself up for that.”

You laid your head on Josh’s shoulder again, his words filling you with a sense of comfort. You let your eyes wander over to Jake, but you only found his empty chair. Picking your head up, you looked around insearch of your boyfriend. When you looked at Sam, Sage was no longer in his lap and you felt the panic bubbling in your chest. “Where’s Jake?” Your voice came out a whisper and Josh looked up, his eyes searching as you had just done. You asked the question again, louder this time, “Where did Jake go?”

Danny spoke up, “I’m not sure, he got up and mumbled something and then went into the house.” He saw your face and drew his brows together, “What’s wrong?”

Your head whipped to Sammy as you threw the blanket from your body, stumbling as you stood up, “Where is she?” He gave you a puzzled look as though you were speaking in tongues. “Where the fuck is she, Sam?” You were half yelling now, causing Sam to jump a little.

He raised his hands in defense, “She said she had to use the bathroom, what’s your deal?” He was staring at you like you were crazy.

You turned to Odessa, giving her a look that only she could decipher and stalked through the yard to the house. Odessa was hot on your trail, scared at what you two might find when you got inside. When you crossed the threshold into the kitchen, your anger dissipated, replaced by a shooting pain in your chest. “Jake…” His name fell from your mouth in gasp. His eyes shot open, locking with yours, a look of shock mixed with confusion on his face.

Jake POV

You watched as she hummed along to the song your twin was singing. She looked heavenly with the glow of the flames dancing over her. How did you get so lucky? Your vision blurred slightly as you looked at her. You shouldn’t have drank that much… “I’m gonna get some water.” You mumbled to Danny, but you weren’t sure he heard you as he didn’t respond. Stumbling your way into the kitchen, you used the countertop to guide yourself to the fridge. The dark room illuminated a bit as you opened the refrigerator. Squinting through the too bright light, you dug around the shelves in search of a bottle of water. When you finally found one, you pulled it out, slamming the door shut and cracking the bottle open. You brought it to your lips, chugging it down. Suddenly a pair of hands were wrapping around you from behind, caressing your chest. It was her favorite way to hold you. You leaned into her touch, noticing that her scent didn’t feel as familiar as it should have. Chalking it up to the alcohol dulling your senses and the chlorine on her skin from the pool, you ignored it. All you could focus on was her hands traveling down your body, dipping below the waistband of your swim trunks, and her lips on your neck. You gripped the edge of the island counter as she began to stroke your hardening dick. The way her hand moved on you felt wrong, like she forgot how you liked to be touched. But you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her. To tell her that you weren’t enjoying it the way you wanted to. You didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That was the last thing you wanted. You loved her. She was yours. So soft and sweet. So beautiful, with the kindest heart. She always wanted to put you first, make sure you were taken care of. And so you let her. You allowed yourself to sink into her hold, letting your eyes fall shut. But then her voice came, barely a whisper. Your name slipping from her tongue, not behind you, but from the opposite side of the room. Your eyes snapped open, landing on her. For a moment, your brain couldn’t register the situation. If she was holding you… Then how was she over there? You stared at her, watching the tears form in her eyes, a look of betrayal on her face. And then it clicked…No.

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[nerdgal27]

Mikey and Me

I am not much of a morning person. Would much rather roll in these sheets and hide from the sunshine. Maybe sleep Sunday away. Yeah that sounds wonderful. If a foot wasn’t digging into my back, dammit Mikey. 

Roll from one dead side to the other. Block myself from the brownstone windows. Warm by the sunrise. Breathe in the fresh cool air float, the familiar smell of turtles. Slide my hand out from under the covers. Cold hand in search of warmth. One pinky touches large fingers. The large fingers intertwine mine, drowning my hand in his large palm. Open my eyes, golden yellow rays beam behind me. Between thin lace curtains casts  the bedroom in sunshine and floral shadows. White dust floats in the dry air. 

A mutant turtle sleeps before me. Snug under a mess of covers. Brush the top cover from his head. Unveil, and cascade his green skin in the warm glow. How his soft splash of freckles  mottle his skin. No mask on, nor needed for now. 

From how much he wears his orange mask. I wonder how soft his skin is. In this light, the floral shadows. The most beautiful morning I ever woke up to. One hand drowning in Mikey’s warm hold. Slip a free hand from under the cozy covers. Feel the massive bed head hair under my head. Careful and slow not to wake him. Stroke his sweet face, indulge in curiosity. Soft, delicate, and angelic.Who would ever think someone who eats chewed up gum off of the subway, would feel like this. Caress his cheek, his temple where the mask hides. Enjoy this. 

“Can I stay with you tonight?” 

Past Mikey whispers in my memory from last night. 

The lone turtle then. At my staircase, his fingers fumble each other as his puppy dog eyes ask the same question. His sleeping self now. Fumble fingers, quiet and holding mine now. How can I say no? But eventually questions will need to face reality. 

Can’t stay in this bed forever reality says. I’d say stay in this bed and watch Mikey sleep forever. Oh well. Innocent tight grip on my palm. Deep sleep breathing warms my smile. Lean in so quiet. Can’t resist it, I press my lips on his dear forehead. Watch his cheeks curve a smile even in deep slumber. 

Don’t ever stop being you Mikey. 

Alright. Up I get, much as I don’t want to. Leave the turtle snug in my bed. That is tucked in a brick corner. Don’t have to worry about him rolling off. 

Search through the maze on the bedroom floor. Uniforms from work, socks with no mates. I can relate to them. 

Ah ha! Bright orange fabric burns in the sun. Pull it out from the pile of clothes. A bright orange hoodie. The color that gives me a craving for apricots. Old stains litter the color. Over stretched collar, and sleeves worn by time. A bright white kitten cartoon on the front. Now in the color of creme from the sun. Take the old thing in my hands. Put it on top of the tank top. Gotta grab the collar, take a big whiff. Hmmm, home. Been so long. 

Step into a mix match pair of fuzzy orange and pink socks. To fight against the cold wood floor. Too early to be cold. Leave heaven in the bedroom. Out I go to reality. A small brownstone apartment. Creaky wooden floors, and old paint chips cabinets. Matches my selection of found used furniture. 

“Is everything okay Mikey?” 

My past memory self asks. 

Think back to all of it as I begin the day of making coffee. 

Mikey and I in the kitchen then over a cup of coffee and orange soda. Last thing I needed is a caffeinated Michelangelo at 1 am. 

“You know we can talk about anything.”

Memories dance on in my mind, as I dump the sweet bliss of coffee grinds in the filter. 

Think about everything last night. The dim kitchen lights that I haven’t fixed yet. My best friend for a turtle at the island counter. Bathed in that golden glow. Take a seat next to him. How those heavy eyes look away, deep down in the open soda can. A rare sight for someone who smiles in their sleep. My pinky brushes his. Let those large turtle fingers wrap around my small human hand. Palms rough from 15 years of battle after battle. On quiet nights light these. His thumb strokes my hand ever so gentle. 

“Can we talk about it in the morning? I want to be with you, like old times.” 

The reality me would have told him no and sort this out. Tomorrow is an early work shift. Yet, in the warm light. Bright green complexion is sheet white. His wrists clench quiet shivers his quiet hold. Matches the quiver of his small smile. Think back to his fading faith glimmering in the night. 

Lean in, same as always Mikey dips his head. Lean forward, his forehead meets my lips in the middle. Ease his quiet shivers snuggle into my shoulder for a starved embrace. 

Whisper to him, “Our times will never be old, Mikey, we can talk whenever you're ready.”

Old times. I miss them too. But this is life now. Have an apartment, a job. It’s not the greatest, the boss needs to take a chill vacation. Either way it keeps my apartment lights on. I’m happy about it. 

An old apartment in the warm sun. Create light for my dingy kitchen. Give my hanging plants some needed sunshine. Gonna have to ask Donnie when I can transfer these new herbs to my herb garden. A metal shelf in the living area, about half full of my collection. Hey, if there’s a way I can cut grocery costs in half, I’ll do it. 

Phone vibrates beside the coffee tin. Turn the phone over to see the screen. Speak of the devil. 

9:30 March 28, Donnie: Hey, Sweetheart. 

Just like old times. His nickname for me. 

Me: Mornin to U too Dee, those hangin planters r really workin.” 

Bubbles float on a white and purple screen. Set it on the counter. Press the hot water button to brew the coffee. Let the smooth aroma of rich coffee take me back to when I was little. When this smart turtle used to put coffee in my toddler mug. 

9:35 

Donnie: What’d I tell you, I’m a genius, they shouldn’t be ready to move for another couple weeks.

Me: Thanks genius

Bubbles float on the purple screen again. Boy must be busy working on something. Like that has never happened. Swear, if he didn’t have four brothers to keep him busy. Donnie would turn into a science crazy hermit. The kind that requires warning labels. Least some of us are still home. 

Take a look around my apartment. Squishy in size. Living room has enough size for one couch, one apple box coffee table, and a TV on my black shelf. Empty and quiet. 

9:40 

Donnie: Is Mike with you?

Run back to the kitchen. Fill my mug before the coffee machine drowns itself. 

Me: Yea he is asleep. Did something happen? 

Donnie: No 

Head over to my breakfast nook. Set the hot mug down on the bistro table. 

Me: Dee

Donnie: Nothing happened

Wow that text came fast. Nothing stops the brainiac’s work. Not even me. Not for a while anyway. 

Donnie: He misses you, that’s all, this is a big change

Oh, I see. 

Me: It’s a big change 4 me, when R U going to help me build those plant shelves U told me about?? 

Bubbles float. Hold the mug close in my hands. Inhale the memory of Donnie’s smell. His warmth then. 

Donnie: Soon, Sweetheart, I promise, it will be like old times. 

Bubbles float under Donnie’s message on my phone. A picture pops up. In a slender olive green palm. In a cool computer screen light is a rubik's cube. 

After all these years. He has that old thing. Hope he never throws it away. 

Donnie: I love you Sweetheart. 

Take one strong sip of coffee. Send Donnie one more text. I set the phone back into its place in my pocket. Relax in my chair, look out the large bay windows. Close my eyes to songs of pigeon wings fluttering by. The Mighty River of a city rushes. Feel the warm sunshine wake me. The streets are full of people below. Look back to my kitchen before me. No stove making smoke signals. Not a single orange skewered by a Sai. Nor the clashes and bangs of a family. Yet they say they are ninjas. An old kitchen. Quiet, clean, and bright in the sun. This is my life now. 

Warmth touches my back. No need to turn. Two freckle hands slither out between my arms. Wrap around my midsection. A soft cheek melts into my shoulder. Old life nuzzles me. 

“I’m starving.” 

“Morning starving.” I smirk on his freckle cheek. 

Squish the coffee sloshing inside me, he retorts. “Hey that’s my thing.” 

Take a sip of coffee, “And now it’s mine.” 

Set of arms recoils around me. Leave my shoulder cold. He opens the fridge. 

“No bacon for you then.” His shell faces me. 

Wait a bit for him to dig through. Swish the coffee in the mug.

 I answer his mutter, “And no bacon for anyone.” 

A turtle steps back. Hand clutch onto his plastron chest. Take heavy breaths, he gasps. “You, no bacon? Are you loco homie?!” 

“I know, I’m shocked too, it's been a couple weeks since my last pay cheque.” I answer.

And who knows when my next one will come in. 

“You’re Boss still giving you a hard time?” Mikey closes the fridge. 

An armful of something. Nothing stops him and his empty stomach. 

Get up for the second cup. I pause, stare down at the endless black liquid in the pink coffee mug. See my tired self ripple in the black reflection. 

I answer, “Not anymore, he switches the schedule pretty much to whatever he wants, I’m on casual for now, till something else pops up.” 

“New York, what a place.” 

“Work, what a concept.” 

He holds up my few selection of eggs. I answer his silent question. 

“No, those are normal, they won’t explode powder this time.”

Mikey raises an orange eyeridge, “last time you told me that, I had glitter in my shell for 4 weeks straight.” 

Chuckle at the old memory years ago. To prove him wrong I crack them on the pan for him. 

Murmur in the calm quiet. “See, no ninja smoke, nor glitter.” 

Soft shift of Mikey’s feet squeaks the old hardwood. He snorts, “Or ghost pepper powder ninja smoke bombs.” 

“That was one time.” I snicker. 

“My face still burns.”

“That was for the rubber spiders in my bed, you goon,” I giggle, “I can’t go to bed without checking the covers, because of you.” 

Toaster wires twang. Shake the proof of my old glitter prank out of his shell. 

Mikey chuckles, “Worth it.” 

One more person is here besides me. Another to make noise. Bring more light into the apartment. Hear their feet scuff on wood. Have someone help me clean. It’s nice. 

“Mike?” 

No answer. Place the dry dishes back in their cupboard. 

Dry the next, I ask, “Is everything going okay home- I mean the lair?” 

Freckle hands take the dry plate from me. He turns away. 

“Same as usual.” 

Awe come on buddy, there’s more than that. Toss the towel in the pile of laundry yet to be done. 

Wait for him to turn. Sometimes a look is needed for Mike to talk. This time Mikey doesn’t look. Nose points to the old pink mat. 

“The guys pick on you again? Did Donnie explode anything?” I ask on. 

Nothing. Turtle frame leans on the counter behind him. If only he smiles, the way he always does. Then the sunshine wouldn’t be the only thing that shines. 

Leave the sink. His three finger turtle hands lay dormant. Take his hands. Even now with great effort. Human hand can only hold his fingers. 

“Can we hang out today?” He asks my hand. 

Human thumb strokes the back of his hand. I murmur, “I would love that Mikey, but you have to remember it’s daylight now, and your brothers know where you are.” 

No need to ask who. Answer his quiet question.

“They know you’re safe with me, no one is coming unless you want them to.” 

Please let me see his eyes. Let his hand squeeze mine. Mikey whispers under his breath. “Just want to be with you.” 

Maybe that’s what is needed. No need to rush things. Nor chase anything away. The same way as it always has been. Hand in hand. Close our eyes. Lean forwards our foreheads touch. Warm each other, lean on each other. The apartment is quiet, and I am not alone. 

“Have any of those spiders left?” 

Life my gaze to him. We pull back. 

“No but I have these,” His hands pull out a handful of water balloons. 

Pull on a pair of jeans. Turtle follows me over to a window in the bedroom. A wonderful view of the next door apartment wall. The morning sun fades above the city buildings. 

“You know, Mike, this place does have a fire escape.” 

Lead him to the destination outside the bedroom window. On one window faces the main streets. Another faces the alley. In Between the black metal bars of the staircase. The two of us smirk. 

Mikey gives me his baby blue eyes. Narrow in an evil grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”  

“Always.” 

Open the window. Ladies first, his hands boost me to climb out. Wait for him, take his hand to pull him out. The turtle doesn't let go. Does he want to hold hands to climb the stairs?

He reads my mind. “We don’t need to climb that.” 

Of course we don’t. Throw me on his shell. Bind my arms around him in a death grip. Ignore his chuckle. One hop after a flip, and a hoist. Up on the roof. Wooden water tower, ducting systems. The only thing that is missing. Is them. I miss this. 

After endless hours of throwing water balloons at the innocent people down below. Watch them scream, shout, and laugh in cold water. Some may or may not have glitter and glue. No wonder so many become villains. 

Look over the edge down to a busy sidewalk. Wet sidewalk dried by the midday sun. Where dozens of people murmur. 

Tie off the balloon I ask, “This is the last one right?” 

Mikey’s hand waits for me to hand the balloon to him. Quiet, He mutters, “Yep.” 

His smile is here. Looking at me. This is the first time seeing him in daylight. Freckles burn in the light. A gentle breeze sways the clothes lines all around us. Sways his orange mask tails. A flame in the sun. Is it his smile? 

Reach the balloon to him. He ushers my wrist as well. Watch the balloon fall to its next victim. Neither one of us watches who the balloon hits. A turtle and human sit mid daylight together on a roof ledge. 

“Tessie?”

Hand holds human wrist. Run a hand over fair skin. Over old memories. Ones forgotten. Some are not. 

Stroke his thumb over dark bruises. Both of our freckle faces meet each other. Read each other’s silence. 

Slip my hand away, “I’m okay, it’s old.” 

A free green hand. Comb the long strands back. 

Soft words feather darkness, “You told me you were going to be okay, we made a promise didn’t we?”

A quiet nod. 

He takes both of my hands in his.

 Mikey asks, “Are you safe? Does anyone follow?” 

Pull the orange hoodie sleeve over the bruise. I chuckle, “Nope, just coffee machines falling apart on me.” 

Silence. Skin and shell shifts Mikey closer. Drown me in his shadow. Sinks my eyes further to my own hands. Draw along the old cracks that scarred this old building. 

A gentle push, he whispers, “Are you sure, that’s what happened? We don’t keep secrets, remember.” 

Stroke his hands, I murmur, “Mikey? What’s going on buddy?” 

He shrinks back. “Just want to know if you are okay.” 

Reach for him again, “Not just that, I know you why came over,” lift his chin to see me, burn the sun in my eyes, “did you think I wouldn’t miss you at all? We made a promise.” 

Nothing. Revert his focus. This is not the turtle I know. Please don’t change who he is. He slips away. No hop down the fire escape. He climbs down. Leave the fun. Hide from whatever sunlight there may be. 

Old memories mimic new. For as long as I can remember. I follow Mikey. Shell to me, saunter down the empty stairs. Back inside, the window curtains waltz in the slow air. Crawl back inside the bedroom. No turtle in the bed. Wander out to the kitchen. No turtle in the fridge. Out in the cold quiet living. Brown cold brick. One lone poster decorates the house. Green curtains drawn. Cover the room in floral shadows. One single blanket. Pink, fluffy, and covered in cartoon cats. All wrapped around a green ball of shell. 

No need to say words. Yells, whispers or anything. Not unless we break what we have. I’ve already caused enough damage before. Know what lingers in this apartment. A dark bitter blackness. 

Not now. Mikey is here. Curled alone in a ball in a dark corner of the couch. Only one person is allowed to do so in this apartment. Or deserves to be left like this.

 In pink and orange socks, given to me on Christmas from this special turtle. I climb down the platform steps. Weave around the coffee table. The shelf garden gives the room a fresh green smell. Controversial to the dark bitterness that darkens the room. Take a seat next to the fuzzy pink and green shell bundle. 

Whisper. “Mikey…” 

Silence. Fluffy white clouds roll over the golden sun. Hide away all the warmth of the morning before. Drape us in a cool gray shadow. 

“I know…what happened.” The fluffy bundle mumbles. 

Shade claps into black. Words shatter thin glass nerves. Fingers tingle, vibrate. Feet fizzle numb. 

“H-how…I-I…no nothing happened”- 

“I know everything, something did happen” Softness bitters a sharp growl. 

Uncurl himself from his tight ball. Cold ice shrinks me to look away. No, they swore they wouldn’t say a word. For his sake I never want him to know. He wasn’t there for any of it. How could he know? 

A free open apartment space all around us. Could get up and run from this if needed.Yet I am frozen where I sit. So close to his ice cold freeze. 

Memories of a storm roars. 

“That my boss is a jerk,” I smirk old news, “Most bosses are like that Mike”- 

“Stop hiding Tessie”- 

Heart leaps from the couch. Heels spin to run. Hands snatch mine. 

“Wait, wait, hold a sec.” Grip pulls me back. 

Heart thumps out all words in my throat a short scream. Run, scream all thoughts. Hide, shivers all joints. My turtle best friend. His gentle palm softens around my wrist. Yet this cold shiver. Clam all limbs to run forever. 

“…. P-please…” A child who died so long ago whispers, “L-let me go.” 

The child who found the other dead. His hand hugs mine, squeezes his plea. 

“I’m sorry sissy,” stops the pull, freezes the cold distance of what feels like miles apart.

Couch hinges creak behind. A shadow drapes over me. So many have curled me into a ball. Ready for what’s to come. This one, so many times before when I was small. 

Soft words reach nerves, “You’re alright,” 

Green freckle arms, Mikey’s arms slide around me. Drown out the cold in his warmth, he whispers, “breathe with me.” 

Wait for nerves to shiver, to breathe. His warmth turns me to his chest, to his racing heart to listen to mine. 

“It’s okay,” Michel whispers, “you’re safe.” 

Silence. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal? Every training spar, loud bangs, every click of the coffee machine. It’s always like this.

“I found it all in the garbage this morning.” 

Oh no, that was supposed to be gone before he’s awake. The bottles, the evidence, all of it. How could I forget that? How can I be so stupid? Of course he knows it all. No one was supposed to know. Especially Mikey. 

The turtle pulls me from his warmth. Enough for his palms to lift cheeks up to his sweet blue gaze. Those big round eyes. Burns bright in the midday sun almost as radiant as his permanent smile. All tucked away in the shadow. Nothing can shade away the sweetness in his gaze. 

“I don’t have any more if you’re wondering.” I mumble. 

“Good,” His cheek nuzzles my forehead, “We never keep secrets.”

Think back to when that rule was made so long ago. Nudge his cheek in a nod. 

He asks, “Why did you leave us?” 

Both of us sink back down on the couch.

 I explain, “it was time, I couldn’t stay refuge forever.” 

“But you weren’t, you’re not a refuge,” Mikey sinks his eye level to mine, “did the guys ever tell you that?” 

“Mikey, they’ve been looking for my family since day one.” Curl into those old thoughts. Close them away in these hands before me.  

Fold himself on the couch. Follow him. Lay side by side. One head on the other's thigh. 

Chin on my thigh digs, “I never looked.” 

“No,” I slide the pink blanket back over his shell, “You didn’t.” 

Green fingers fiddle with the elastic band of my socks. “We promised no matter what you and I will stay together, what made you want to leave?” 

Snuggle under the blanket and his soft skin. I answer. “For this, we are above service in broad daylight, it’s what we’ve dreamed of, another kitchen to blow up, we just spent a whole morning pulling pranks on other people other than the guys, said we would visit each other all the time…why haven’t you, Donnie, or Leo, or Raphie? I tried to call you.” 

Darkness clouds baby blues. Drops to the colorful butterflies on the blanket. Hand on my shoulder slides away. Hold onto the little butterflies. Should’ve known. 

“You weren’t ready to let go, that’s why you won’t return my texts” Green muzzle hides. I take his limp arm, hold it so soft “We were never siblings to begin with, you found me, remember.” 

Tears well, soak orange mask, he shivers. “But you were mine, you were ours, so tiny in my arms. I knew you were mine. For once I had someone who thinks my pranks are cool, can speak Donnie, can out punch Raph, and talk sense into Leo when he goes leader serious,” 

“You were small too Mikey,” I add in, holding his hand, “we’re only a few years apart, from different lives.” 

More tears fall with his words and clench teeth, “And that life threw you out to the street, they left you to die. How can someone be so cruel? They didn’t know you.” 

Both human hand and turtle hand lock together. 

Smile at the thought. 

“You never left me, none of you did, you saved me my friend, you didn’t know me then either. Raphael and the others were right to look for my family. To find a solution to give me a normal life,” lost in a fog of water, heat burns all. Swim through the water, find my orange clad turtle, “Mikey, you were the one that gave me that normal life, let me make a normal life up here for all of us.” 

Crystal clear blue eyes ripple in the waves. Green complexion red as mine. Our muscles are as weak as each other. Both of us sit up from our ball. 

His round innocence. Sweet, angelic as his soft face. He trembles under water. “S-So…you didn’t leave…B-because you hated us, or something we did? T-thought you were done with your old brother.” 

Hands travel up from his arm. Freckle skin soaks in the sun and tears yet to fall. In this cold looney living room. Sunshine seeps between the curtain shadows. Shine more golden light inside. 

“Mikey, there will never be a time where I hate you, this is the next stage of life to come, would never leave you for good. Want you all of us to be a part of it. Nothing has changed, what has changed is where we are.” 

Cheeks curve in a smile. A hand on his cheek. He takes the back of my hand. Hold it still for him to snuggle into my palm. Two green hands, hold both my cheeks. Warm thumbs rub the hot tears aside. Same way he always has since day one. 

I chuckle, “there were so many times, so many pranks I’ve wanted to punch the daylights out of and have, you were always there for me, my best friend, and a brother I’ve always wanted to have.” 

A wet tongue licks a cow lick on my already messed up hair. Send gross shivers down my spine. To run to the closest thing to a shower and drown in. 

The orange turtle doesn’t let me go. Mikey chuckles, “Least I have you.” 

“Always.” 

Lean forward and our foreheads meet. Lean on each other. Arms join as well. Wrap each other in a tight embrace. Leave each other's foreheads to our cheeks, dig out noses into each other's shoulders. What may seem so unusual to the real world. Perhaps ugly or wrong. Maybe my life may have been different without him. I don’t care what my life would have been. This is my life now. 

Michelangelo the freckled turtle in orange. Surround me in his warmth and love. His own sunshine. 

No matter where life takes us. Where we may be. Whenever there is a street that needs to be terrorized by pranks. Or to text and call a bunch of brothers to build a garden shelf on walls. When the time comes when we grow older and wiser. Maybe families of our own. Or just us still on and on. There will always be, 

Mikey and me.

[timeofjuly]

still you take up all my mind

Summary: Quinn and the reader mess around with hair dye and some shears. Inspired by @bones4brainz's amazing art of the electrician and Quinn; I was so taken with how they drew the MC and their blue hair that this just poured out of me. Title taken from Laufey's Let You Break My Heart Again, which I listened to on repeat as I wrote this.

Tags: Fluff, yearning, teenage shenanigans.

Read it on AO3 or read it below :)

“Maybe we should read the instructions before you just start pouring dye all over your head,” Quinn says, watching you dump the contents of the cheapest box of blue hair dye at the beauty supply store on your bathroom counter. A pair of plastic gloves topples out of the cardboard, along with two packets of shampoo and conditioner, a paper leaflet, and a nozzled bottle that must contain the dye.

“It’ll be okay,” you say, but you snatch up the paper leaflet anyway, then angle it so she can read it. Well, read isn’t really the word, since there’s just pictures. Three, to be exact - one showing how to open the bottle, one of a cartoon character applying the dye to their hair, and one showing the same character washing the colour out. 

“How long do you reckon I have to leave it in?” you say, head cocked to the side as you consider the instructions. “It doesn’t say. Do you think all my hair will fry off if I leave it on for too long?”

“I don’t know? I thought you said you’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, with like, semi-permanent colour. This is the real deal.” You put the piece of paper down. “Ah well. It’ll be fine. I’ll either end up with blue hair or really, really short hair. Either way, I wanted a change.”

You’re being very blasé about the possibility of leaving this bathroom bald. You’ve been very blasé about this whole thing, actually; four hours ago, you’d sat up from where you’d been lying on your bedroom floor playing Mario Kart with her (and losing, she’s proud to say) and had declared that you were going to dye your hair blue, and would she please help you do the back?

She’d agreed, of course. You’re going to do it either way. At least she can help make sure the colour’s even.

Since the instructions are a bust, she moves onto the next best thing, because even if you’re fine with the idea of looking like a plucked chicken, she’s not. “Let’s just find a video, then.”

You concede with a nod, thankfully putting the bottle of dye down. After a quick search, the two of you sit side-by-side on the edge of your bathtub, leaning over your phone. Your shoulder and arm, mostly bare in your ratty t-shirt you use as pyjamas, is warm against her. The bathroom fan is on, but she feels almost too-hot, like the air is thicker than usual. 

“So we should section the hair out,” you say, following along with the video, “and do the middle of the strands first?”

Quinn watches the girl in the video applying the dye to her hair. She’s using a little brush - which you don’t have - and has a bunch of clips separating her hair - which you also don’t have - so she can see exactly where she’s putting the dye. She’s also using a natural brown colour, not blue, and she’s a proper adult, not a sixteen year old girl standing in her mom and dad’s bathroom on a school night. 

Unnatural hair colouring is definitely against dress code, and it’s Sunday night. Whatever happens in this bathroom - you’re going to have to go to school in the morning regardless.

Quinn hopes you have a beanie stashed away somewhere, just in case. 

“Then the ends, and then the roots,” she says, parroting the video. She gives you a sidelong glance. Your eyes are still trained on the phone. You’re biting your lip in concentration. You smell like the cookies the two of you baked (and ate, a whole tray’s worth) a few hours ago. “Are you a hundred percent sure you want to do this?”

You pause the video, then put down your phone. “Why, don’t you think I can pull off the blue?”

You wink, and even though she knows you’re joking, because of course you are, she feels stupid, pathetic heat in her cheeks. “No! No, that’s not - you’ll look great, obviously. It’s just - won’t your parents be mad?”

She hasn’t actually seen either of your parents this afternoon, which is unusual. The four of you normally have dinner together when she sleeps over (which is often), but tonight,  you’d just ordered a pizza to share with her. It’s close to nine now, and the house is still silent, save your combined chatter and the hum of the various appliances. 

“Nah,” you say, waving a careless hand. “As long as I don’t stain any of mom’s good towels, they won’t give a shit. We’ll be able to clean everything up before they even notice, anyway - dad’s working late at the hospital tonight and mom’s shoulder has been really bad all day, so she took her pain meds and went to bed hours ago. They’re super strong; she won’t wake up until the morning.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, still worried. Your bathroom is all clean, white tile, colour-coordinated towels and bathmat, a shower with a glass door, not a curtain. And the hair dye - it’s so fucking blue. There’s no way you’ll avoid making a mess. 

“I am,” you say, and then you smile at her in the way she likes best, the way that makes her feel like she’s the only person you’ve ever smiled at, ever, braces and scrunched-up eyes, and Quinn thinks fuck the white tiles, fuck the towels, and fuck the bathmat, too. You want blue hair, and if having it will keep you smiling like that, she’ll make this place look like a poor impression of a Pollock painting. 

Together, you pull your hair into sections, then stand in front of the mirror, you in front of her. There’s only two gloves in the packet, so you each take one, sliding it over your dominant hands. 

Unceremoniously, you take the bottle to your hair and squirt a generous amount of dye into one of the sections and god, it’s so blue. 

“It’s so blue,” you say, grinning. “It’s gonna look so cool. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Privately, Quinn thinks that you do care, very much, actually, but she’s not about to tell you that. 

The bathroom fills with the smell of ammonia as both of you work the dye into your hair. She’s never really touched you like this before, which is probably a weird thing to think about a friend; it’s not like people go around giving their besties head massages, after all. Still, it’s nice; you’re warm and your hair feels and smells good, despite the chemicals. You give a pleased shiver when she accidentally scrapes her nails over your scalp and she needs to duck her head behind yours to hide her blush from the mirror. 

The bottle of dye is soon emptied and your head is drenched with the colour. The dye isn’t just contained to your hair; it’s all over your forehead, your cheeks, your ears, your neck. It’s even gotten on your t-shirt. Quinn’s too; luckily, it’s an old hand-me-down she doesn’t care about, one that belonged to her sister that probably belonged to one of their cousins before that. It’s so stretched and faded that the design on it is illegible.

She sets a timer on her phone for twenty minutes, as suggested by the lady in the video, then helps you secure your head beneath a shower cap to stop the dye from going everywhere. The twenty minutes passes quickly - the two of you finish your game of Mario Kart to pass the time and after a dicey moment with a blue shell, Quinn emerges victorious - and then she’s waiting in your bedroom, listening to the shower run as you rinse off the dye. The whirl of a hairdryer follows, and then silence. 

“I’m ready!” you eventually call. “You can come in.”

She re-enters the bathroom to find you standing in front of the mirror. Your hair - it’s blue, of course, she knew it was going to be blue, but she finds herself breathless all the same. You’ve given yourself a trim too; there’s a pair of haircutting shears on the sink and the tiles below you are littered with blue dust. You’ve put on a new set of pyjamas, your old, dye-stained ones tossed in a careless ball in the corner. Your skin is clean, makeup-free, still faintly wet. Your cheeks are flushed from the shower, your eyes bright.

When you see her reflection in the mirror, stopped dead at the door frame, you whirl around, beaming. You run a hand over your head. “It’s so bright!” You turn your head left, then right, like a bird admiring itself in its tiny mirror. Your forehead is dotted with blue stains and so are your ears, she realises, their tips looking almost frostbitten. You look like a fucking fairy. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she breathes. Your face lights up. Teasingly, she adds, “Why? I thought you don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“You’re different,” you say. “You’re my best friend. You’re you. Of course I care what you think.”

Her stomach squirms. How does she even reply to that? Best friend. Has she ever had a best friend before? She doesn’t think so. Maybe that’s why she feels so strange around you sometimes; perhaps this is just how girls feel around their best friends. 

… Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch, and she knows it. It doesn’t matter, though; if this is all she ever gets to have of you - clean, bare skin, hair dye, baking cookies, your smiles, honest, unguarded, just for her - she’ll still be satisfied. 

“You look really pretty,” she says, suddenly not shy at all. “This was a good idea.”

If you pick up on any of the emotion in her voice, the way the words come out too steady, too seriously, you don’t show it. You just smile again, that same grin, the one you always give when someone compliments you. “Thanks for helping me. Hey, you know, I have leftover dye,” you say, like you haven’t been trying to convince her to do something with her hair ever since you decided on a whim that you wanted to dye yours. “We could give you a streak? Or maybe highlights? I think I have bleach and developer somewhere. Oh, oh, what about a haircut?”

Quinn has never had a proper, professional haircut. Her mom cuts the whole family’s at home with a pair of kitchen scissors. As a kid, she’d had the classic bowl cut, but now that she’s older, it’s just all one length and long enough that it gets caught whenever she sits on a particularly high-backed seat. 

It’s fine, she supposes. It’s her hair. It’s always been long and red. That’s just what it looks like. She’s never put much thought into how she feels about it, outside of some teasing from other kids in elementary school. She’s certainly never considered changing it. Her mom never asks if she wants to do anything different with it; she just tells Quinn to sit down at the kitchen table underneath the big light and to remember to sweep the hair up afterwards.

Two years ago, her mom cut her own hair short - not even a pixie cut or anything, just around chin length, because the summer had been unusually hot and she’d wanted to keep her neck cool. It looked really nice, actually. Different. 

When their dad had seen her that night, he hadn’t been happy. It wasn’t about the hair, he’d said. It was because she hadn’t asked his permission. She was his wife, after all. She should’ve asked. 

Her mom’s hair is back below her shoulders now, and still growing. Long and red, just like Quinn’s. She’s forever tying it back, pinned away from the heat of the stove and the oven. Soon, it’ll look just like it did before. Like her haircut, that small, accidental moment of rebellion, never happened.

“A haircut,” Quinn says. “I want a haircut.”

You look surprised. “Wait, really? You were so against it before. I haven’t peer pressured you, have I?” 

“No, no, you haven’t, I promise. I just - I just wanna go shorter. I think it’d be a nice change. Something different.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. Your mouth looks nice around the sound, all wide around the oh, like you’re blowing a kiss, before relaxing on the kay into an adorable almost-smile. “How short?”

Oh, right, the haircut. 

“Uh, like, around shoulder-length, maybe? Like this.” She takes the hair elastic off of her wrist and ties her hair in front of her chest at the desired length. The elastic sits just above her shoulder, just long enough that she’ll be able to tie it back once it’s cut. There’s so much hair left below it. Looking at it makes her chest go tight, like she’s going to laugh or puke, or maybe both. It’s the same way she feels when she looks at your lips for too long. “Here. Cut here. We can fix it up afterwards to make it straight and stuff, but this is how short I want it.”

For a moment, she’s afraid that you’re going to question her. Ask her if she’s really sure, if this is a good idea. Tell her that in the morning, she’ll have nothing but regrets. You’d be right. There’s going to be hell to pay at home, once her parents see what she’s done. You should second guess her. 

But you don’t. Of course you don’t; you’re fucking fearless. And as you bring the scissors up and close them just above the elastic with an audible snip, Quinn feels fearless too.

[newtonsheffield]

Ooh, can we please get Newton Thoughts on him thinking he's running the whole damn farm and how did anything get done before he got there? He looks at Anthony like, "OK, Mum and I have to go to London. Please don't undo all my hard work while we're gone."

Oh my god, imagine

Here’s some Newton thoughts™️

Newton sighed as he looked over at Katie’s mate, shaking his head. Anthony was a very nice man, he really was. Newton had been curious about him since Katie had lain on their old bed with him and sighed,

“Okay, it’s silly because he lives really far away but I really like him, Buddy.”

Newton had no idea who he was but he was a curious, so he nudged her with his nose to go on.

“I… really want to meet him in person but he hasn’t asked me and… you know what, I’m going to do it. I’m going to pretend I have a reason to go to Kent and I’ll ask him to meet me and we’ll just… rip off the bandaid.”

Newton nestled against her neck in support.

He was feeling a little less supportive when he was unceremoniously dumped at Eddie and Goosey’s. With only his travel bed to sleep on, and a handful of toys. He’d tried giving Katie the cold shoulder when she came to pick him up on Sunday night, smelling completely unlike herself. He sniffed delicately at her as she bundled him into the car and huffed as he smelled the masculine scent clinging to her.

So the meeting with her new mate had gone well. Interesting.

“Newton, he was so sweet!” Kate said on the way home, “I had the best time with him. I think me and Anthony could really be something. And! Get excited, little guy, we’re going to the country next weekend and you’ll get to run around the farm with the sheep. That’ll be fun.”

Newton huffed, trying not to sound too interested in case Katie got the idea that he’d be moving to a farm of all places.

But as the week had worn on Katie had sounded so happy every time Anthony had called her and truly: by the time Friday came around he’d been desperate to see this Anthony. Curious about what had gotten Katie so enamoured with him.

He’d sat in his car seat and watched the grass roll by, a little mournful that he wouldn’t be able to chase his favourite squirrel tomorrow morning. But he supposed if this Anthony had a farm, as he’d been promised, there might be one there. From the second they arrived Newton felt excitement building in his chest as Kate let him out, the grass soft under his paws, the air filled with so many smells.

A man stepped forward, waving to Kate a little nervously, “Kate, Hi! You made it!”

“Hey, Babe.” Kate wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close and Newton averted his eyes.

“This must be Newton.”

Yes, Newton huffed as Anthony crouched in front of him, scratching behind his ears. Thank you for finally greeting me. Took you long enough.

Anthony smelled nice though, Newton was a little dismayed to notice, and his hands were warm but Newton had gotten immediately distracted by the two pups who had run up behind him. They smelled close to Anthony, but they weren’t his puppies, Newton didn’t think as he licked the girl’s face, giddy at her delighted laughter. He liked the pups. They gave him treats and let them sleep on their beds but even better than the pups were the sheep.

Newton loved that. He loved running around after them and he realised with a sigh that Anthony needed his help if he was going to get this place in order. He seemed absolutely bloody determined to undo Newton’s hard work as quickly as possible. He kept moving the sheep to ridiculous spots around the yard no matter how many times Newton called out to him.

Anthony! No! No! The other way!

And normally, Newton wouldn’t mind doing the most work out of everyone. He was used to being the backbone of the family. But today him and Katie were going back to London for a few days. And he just knew when he got back Anthony would have undone everything.

Newton sighed as he walked up to Anthony, placing his paw on Anthony’s boot.

I know this is hard for you, buddy. But you need to just try and keep things running without me.

“Oh, bud.” Anthony chuckled, “Are you going to miss me?”

Honestly, I’m worried about you. I don’t know how this was a successful venture before I got here. Newton sighed, Just leave the sheep alone, please. I’ll tend to them when I get back.

[a-rogue-tiddy-bot]

A theory to make my fellow Fallout fans sad on this fine Sunday morning: immediately after the bombs dropped, Cooper probably had a brief period where it nearly felt as if he made a comeback of sorts. Society is collapsing. Some people are taking advantage of its weakest, most disenfranchised members. And who's there to protect them?

Cooper fucking Howard.

People quickly forget that he's a disgraced "commie" when he's the one caring for and protecting them. Then the consequences of radiation poisoning kick in. His appearance changes a bit. He's turning into a ghoul before anyone even thought to call them that. It's happening to lots of folks though, so maybe at first nobody minds too much. He's still Cooper Howard, right? Still their valiant protector.

But then there are the feral ghouls, and people who are envious of the influence and the growing number of followers this would-be leader is amassing. He gets ousted from his group of people, either due to fear, or someone else being deemed more suitable to fill his role.

Eventually his appearance changes so much that strangers laugh at him when he introduces himself. Get a load of this dumb zombie fuckhead? He thinks he's Cooper Howard! Please.

For all we know, the reason ghouls even call themselves ghouls is because Cooper Howard began calling himself one. And now only a handful of people know the truth of who he once was. Part of him doesn't like being recognized because he feels so disconnected from his old self, of course. But part of him simply does not want to relive the experience of being erased by every new person he meets. So he won't hesitate to dump a would-be ally in a coffin if they know where he's from "originally".

This theory would further explain Cooper's attitude towards Lucy. She's heading down the same path, and on some warped level he's trying to spare her that. Whatever he does to her (yes, even selling her for drugs) is less cruel and less painful than letting her go through that, at least by his current standards. It also explains his attitude towards Roger, the only person he interacts with in the first season who he treats with respect, if not compassion.

I've no idea how right or wrong this theory is, but I look forward to finding out.

[starstruckwillows]

♡ girls like me - s.b ♡

this is so self indulgent, i will cry if nobody reads it

starstruckwillows 🂱

pairing; sirius black x reader

category; hurt/comfort, fluff

summary; you're used to being treated wrong, but sirius black isn't okay with that

warnings/content; self-deprecative talk, a bad date

other; fem!reader, post!hogwarts, insecure!reader, reader has a pet

you weren't surprised to find that the tears stinging your eyes didn't fall.

it'd been years of practice now - as another partner blew you off for a more attractive side piece you'd pretended not to know about, the hurt didn't end in crying.

it ended in you cramming yourself into a telephone box to ring your best friend, marlene. she didn't pick up, and you then remembered she was out with her girlfriend. she'd told you this morning.

staring down at the last remnants of muggle money in your palm, as rain began assaulting the sides of the box, you shoved them in with new decision in your mind.

"hello?" the voice on the other end was groggy, and you silently cursed as you checked your watch. it was nearing midnight, of course you'd woken him up.

"sorry, i didn't realise the time..."

there was some shuffling over the phone, a new alertness to sirius as he answered, "ah, s'alright love. are you okay?"

you bit your lip, counting down the minutes you had left on the call in your hand, "not really," pathetic, you thought, "i- i'm in a telephone box right now, it's gonna hang up, but d'ya mind if i come over for a bit?"

anxiety coursed in your stomach as you internally chanted the words sirius had said to you a week prior, trying to soothe the guilt.

y'know you're welcome here anytime, m'never too busy for you.

sirius black may be cocky, and a bit of a flirt, but he loved his friends more than anything. he would drop anything for them.

"of course sweetheart, i'll unlock the door."

his flat was only an eight minute and twenty second walk from where you were.

even though you knew it was open, you knocked before pushing in, just to announce your presence.

sirius was over to you in a flash, shooting up from where he'd been sitting at his kitchen stool. he handed you a mug of tea before guiding you to the sofa.

once you were seated with your jacket drying on the radiator, and a blanket draped over your body in replacement, sirius took a seat on the armchair diagonal to you. he folded his legs underneath him, waiting for you to speak, when you were ready.

you nursed the drink with your cold hands, and he did the same, sipping coffee. he hated tea, he only stocked it for you.

"my date left half way through our meal to go home with our waitress. i sat there for twenty minutes, ate the jerk's pudding, then paid for it all and left."

sirius' jaw clenched at the lack of hope on your face, and he subconsciously pulled his hoodie string too tight.

with a sigh, "we're meeting again on sunday, and i just don't really want to go."

he frowned, "don't go. why would you go?"

"i... we haven't broken it off yet."

this was a common pattern sirius had recognized in you over the years, since hogwarts, even. you never ended things, you just waited until the other person did.

"well, maybe you should break it off, love. you said yourself you don't want to go. so don't."

you twirled the end of your damp hair, "i can't do that, siri. you know that."

he nodded, "i know, but i don't know why."

it was quiet for a moment, and he thought you weren't going to answer him, but you did.

"girls like me don't break up with people, sirius. we get dumped, over and over, until someone just decides it's easier to stay with us."

something you couldn't discern flickered over sirius' face.

he wanted to cut you off and tell you how much more you deserved, but he knew you needed to say this. you'd never said this to anyone, not even marlene.

your beautiful, charismatic best friend could never understand. the man before you, it felt weird to call someone you'd known since you were eleven a man, was both of those things, but you'd started talking now. you couldn't stop.

"and when someone decides that, they marry us for convenience, because their parents like us. we have a single child. they've always wanted two but the marriage doesn't make it that far, because they leave for the more attractive waitress or receptionist or phone operator."

the mood hung heavy in the air, and you were aware of how sad it was. you've done that, you thought, you've brought this sadness to sirius' home.

trying to lighten it up, you added, "or stripper."

sirius smiled slightly, seeing you needed that reassurance.

"you take your child back to your parents because you can't support the two of you alone, and they say they don't mind and they're happy to see you, but they constantly hold over your head how much of a success your siblings are. and they change the topic when their friends ask about you. and one day, if you were the first to have a child, the next grandchild will come along. but they'll call it the first. because you don't really count, so your child doesn't really count."

you were crying now. sirius wanted to cry too.

you'd been friends for eight years, he knew you held yourself to impossibly high standards. he knew you had an unhealthy lack of respect for your feelings. he knew you'd been hurt, and he knew you just wanted to be loved.

you only wanted to be loved.

but now wasn't the time for sirius to tell you he loved you - it wasn't the time to tell you that sure, he loved his friends, but he wouldn't keep tea in his cupboards for them.

it wasn't the time because not only would you think it was pity, he wanted you to understand you were perfect, whether someone loved you or not.

by this point, sirius had moved to sit with you, taking the remains of cold tea and putting your mug onto the table so he could pull you into his chest and tell you that you were worth much more than that.

you were worth the world to your friends, to your family.

to every stranger you smiled at, to everyone you held the door for and bid a good day.

to the people you helped in your job, even the ones who didn't deserve it sometimes.

to the stray animals you fed and helped rehome, to the one you hadn't been able to let go off and was waiting in your apartment now anyway.

to that young girl yesterday who you found crying in a public toilet, stricken with fear at the thought of asking a stranger for sanitary products.

"you make every life you touch better, darling, and if there's people who can't see that for themselves, it is their loss, you hear me?"

you tried to hear him. he helped you try. every day, for weeks, until one day, he showed up at your door, patted your favourite furry friend on the head, and presented you with a boquet of flowers.

before he even asked, you knew what he was going to say. a week ago, you may have hated yourself for hoping, thinking it was stupid to assume he would be interested in someone like you. except you felt better now.

besides, sirius black hated flowers, almost as much as he hated tea.

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly @slut4benbarnes

[omppupiiras]

good morning, it's pastel sunday y'all!! oh, you don't know what a pastel sunday is? short story short last sunday i lost my mind a little bit drawing him in crop tops & pastel outfits, and now I can't stop drawing him in silly clothes so i'm gonna dump some here every sunday 😎 brace yourselves it's gonna get weird

also thank you @lintubintu for calling it a pastel sunday last week and giving me the inspiration to make it a thing :D