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mockerycrow · 2 months

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ON MY MIND (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you wear kyle’s hoodie and he’s forced to confront some suppressed emotions.

[WARNINGS; gaz is a smoker & is emotionally weary, fluff!]

“Kyle!”

His head tilts a bit from the call of his name, muffled and frustrated. His eyes focused on the glass plate in his hand, his other hand scrubbing the thing with an overly-used sponge. “Yeah?” He calls back, only turning his head by his left shoulder a tad bit so you can hear him better as he’s assuming you’re not near the kitchen.

Kyle hears you shuffling around, your shoes scuffing against the floorboards. You don’t respond for a second, but Kyle knows you’re focused on.. Whatever you were doing. He puts the soapy plate in the other side of the sink in the next tub, reaching for the next dish. However, his sleeve slips down his arm a bit, getting wet and soapy. “Ah..” He cringes out loud, his lips pulling uncomfortably as he uses two fingers to tug the now wet sleeve back into place.

Kyle hears your footsteps approach from the next room, causing him to tilt his body so he can keep his wet hands over the sink whilst also looking at you. You enter the room with a frustrated look upon your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your lip curled ever so slightly curled. Kyle chuckles, unable to help himself at how pathetic you look at the moment and he knows it’s not over anything important. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, already amused.

You’re holding up one of Kyle’s hoodies, one the ones that has his last name sprawled across the back. He blinks for a moment before you begin to speak. “I gotta run to the corner store real quick and all of my hoodies are still damp in the dryer,” You exclaim, putting the hoodie down a bit so you can look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your hoodie to walk down there?”

Kyle’s lips purse for a moment, a weird sensation manifesting in his chest cavity as he thinks about wearing his hoodie. “Go ahead, don’t need you getting sick, yeah?” Kyle utters as he turns back to the sink, pinching the front of his shirt and pulling it from his chest as if it’ll ease the sensation. “Sick! Thanks, Kyle. You want anything?” You ask, quickly pulling the hoodie on, adjusting the sleeves.

Kyle’s back is to you as he grabs another dish, mindlessly cleaning it. “‘Course, sweetness. Grab me some crisps, won’t you?” He says, putting the.. clean(?) dish into the other side of the sink on top of the soapy plate. “Yep, I got it. Bye, Ky!”

The door shuts.

Kyle blinks, staring at the soapy water with the tightness in his chest remaining, even after your exit. He sighs slowly, pushing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes—then he shouts, because now soap is in his eyes. “Shitshit—” He hisses, quickly turning on the faucet to wash his eyes out.

Kyle never asked for his hoodie back—a part of him expected for it to appear folded on his bed, washed and taken care of and the other part wished he never saw it again except for you wearing it. You always seemed to lose your hoodies after that, or you went through your collection much faster than you previously had. Neither of you pointed it out, especially Kyle. He was quite alright with a couple of his hoodies disappearing conveniently right at the times you were planning on leaving for a store, or just an outing in general.

Something sickly sweet twists in Kyle’s gut when he sees you wearing his hoodie. It’s something clawing at his insides, gnawing at his bones—energy that makes him want to bash his head into the wall and he isn’t completely understanding why. The second he sees you wearing one of his hoodies, especially the ones with his name on it.. It’s like a little feral squirrel in his body goes wild.

Kyle turns in his bed, groaning softly as he rubs his hand over his face, trying to focus on the coolness of his sheets as he rolls over. He thinks about Soap and Price, thinking about the night where you embarrassed him in front of his mates. Kyle stares into the darkness of his room as he thinks about how proud you seemed to be after making them laugh—how you seemed to beam at him after sharing a reassuring look.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle mumbles, his words muffled as he turns his face against the warm of his pillow, his breathing harsh for a moment. A pleasant warmth trickles into his chest as he thinks about his missing hoodies. How he isn’t able to help the giddy smile on his face when he sees you walk through the door, coming home wearing something with his name on it. His. His. His.

Kyle lifts himself from his bed, grunting as his feet hit the cold floor. He patters across the floor, quietly exiting his bedroom. Kyle’s heart thumps harshly against his chest. He shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks as he walks down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, trying to rid himself of these thoughts—of thinking of you like that. He pauses for a moment when he hears the television on, playing at a low volume. Kyle slows his footsteps as he makes his way past the hall, coming into the living room.

The television is gently illuminating the room and he hears you before he sees you. You’re sleeping on the couch, your favorite blanket sprawled across your lap, your back and head supported by the stupid throw pillows Kyle insisted that you two needed for the couch. Your head is tilted down in a position that looks slightly uncomfortable, your lips parted—wearing his hoodie.

Kyle stares for a minute, his eyes softening as he leans forward, his fingers gentle as he takes your head in his hands and slowly but surely, adjusts the positioning of your head. Kyle watches the way your eyebrows furrow for a moment, your lips pressing back together closed. His lips twitch into a soft smile as he watches you shift in your sleep, your face leaning more into his palm.

Kyle’s heart stops for just a second before he brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, your skin hot under his touch. So warm and full of life.

His chest tightens again and Kyle carefully pulls his hand away from you, his feet quick as he grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the counter near the backdoor, escaping out the back to forget about what his feelings truly mean.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

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vbecker10 · 2 months

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Laundry Day

How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)

Loads of Fun (Bucky x fem reader Y/N)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You and Loki are living together in the Avengers Tower and you've asked him to help you with the laundry. You decide it's the perfect opportunity to prank him but that might not have been a good idea... not if you wanted to sleep tonight that is.

Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much

A/N: I finished my laundry and was folding (trying desperately to fold) my fitted sheet and I came up with this silly little thing so... enjoy 💚

You take a bottle of water out of the fridge in the common kitchen, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

"Something funny in the fridge?" Tony asks from the island, looking up from his tablet.

You turn to him and open the bottle. "No, I was just laughing about something that could possibly get me in a lot of trouble with Loki," you barely explain.

"I have no idea what that means," Steve says as he and Bucky join the conversation.

You take a sip of water and set the bottle on the island. "I was tired of being the one who did our laundry all the time so I told Loki he needed to help me with it today," you start to tell them.

"Still not seeing the funny," Tony says sarcastically.

"I'm getting there," you wave away his comment and he chuckles. "So anyway, I told him to help and he did... an okay job of it. I mean, the dryer and him got in a bit of a fight but we finally got it done," you continue.

"Did he break the dryer cause I've gotta do like four loads of laundry tonight?" Bucky asks concerned as he pulls out the stool next to Steve.

"How could you possibly have to do four loads of laundry?" Tony turns towards him. "You own one hoodie and three henleys at most," he adds.

"Can we get back to my problem?" you pull their attention back to yourself. "I might not have much time left," you joke but you aren't actually sure how long until Loki comes looking for you.

"What did you do to him?" Steve asks, sounding concerned for your safety. Loki would never hurt you of course, he loved you too much, but when you annoyed him you always found it hard to walk the next day.

"Well, he put all the laundry away using his magic but I told him that was cheating. He said it wasn't and we went back and forth for a bit until I made him a bet," you smile. Loki could never resist a wager, especially since he always assumed he would win, and he usually did. "I bet him... something," you suddenly realize you don't necessarily want the guys to know the dirty things you promised Loki and they all look away awkwardly for a moment as if they understood that.

"Right, whatever... so the bet was for him to make the bed himself, without his magic," you tell them.

"Look, I still don't like him very much but, give him a little credit. I think he's smart enough to figure it out," Bucky says.

"Yeah, that doesn't really seem like a bet you're going to win, Y/N," Steve agrees.

"Well... I might not have except for one teeny tiny little bitty detail," you assure them.

"Which is?" Tony asks with a mixture of curiosity and agitation that the story is taking so long.

"I switched the sheet set," you say, they all stare at you confused and you sigh. "I gave him a full size set... and we have a queen bed. There's not a chance in hell he's going to be able to get the fitted sheet on and if he does manage it, I'll know he used his magic and still win," you smile broadly, proud of yourself for tricking the trickster God.

"Well that's a dangerous game to play," Steve says and before you can respond you hear Loki coming down the hall.

"Y/N," he says when he enters the kitchen. You swallow as your mouth goes dry, he does not look happy. "You cheated," he says without question.

"No, I was just..." you try to explain but he walks towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"You... cheated," he says slowly as he backs you into the counter by the sink.

"I mean, only a little," you say with a smile but he doesn't smile back. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," you quickly try to explain.

"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," Steve says as Loki grips your waist with both hands and keeps you pressed between himself and the counter.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Loki says with a smirk, still looking only at you. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp and the suddenness of it and he uses one arm to hold you in place by the back of your legs as he turns to leave the kitchen. He pauses and picks up your water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," he says as he carries you down the hall towards your room.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8

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foldingfittedsheets · 26 days

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My beloved’s mom is staying with us until Tuesday. I’m gonna start this off by saying she spent a morning cleaning our kitchen. That was really nice. It’s not her fault I’m a territorial autistic who’s really fussy about things.

But I can understand what’s going through her head most of the time. I get the reasoning.

Today though. Today she did something so baffling that I keep coming back to it with just ???? looping around my head.

My beloved took her out for coffee and I stayed home. I did two loads of laundry while they were out. I may not be a champion folder but I do 90% of the laundry and I don’t mind the chore. Our washer and dryer live in a closet upstairs. The washing machine must be left open or the Mold Notices.

She’s done two loads of laundry since staying with us and left the washer closed both times. So when I went to run my laundry today I made sure to leave it open. I can smell that damage has been done but once she leaves and I can turn the heat back on I should be able to gain ground.

They both came home when the second load had finished in the dryer. She had no reason to go in the laundry closet. But while reading downstairs I heard the distinct sound of the closet doors opening and I twitched to listen. The dryer door clanged shut. No further laundry sounds.

Hours later when heading up to bed I went to fold and realized she’d moved the clean sheets into a basket but she hadn’t realized they were still damp. But she’d also closed the washer again.

I keep being so confused. Why did she go in the laundry closet??? She didn’t know I’d done laundry. The door was shut like always. It could be construed as helpful that she moved the sheets except that they were still damp and might have dried more in the warm dryer. But why open the closet at all????? Was she bored? She did not know I’d done laundry!

#ramblies #I’m so confused #I did tell her to leave the washer open just in case she does it again #but her mind is inscrutable to me #I tried to ask my beloved but they’re too tired to care

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ravenssilver · 7 months

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Hey can we get some Mountain Dew cuddles? Maybe Dew had a rough day and just needs cuddles from the big man?

hnnnghfbfb… mountaindew:(

900 words of dew having a rough time and mountain knowing him well enough to see past his anger

i didn’t really get too into the bad day, so this is mainly comfort with a bit of snappy dew at the beginning. no cws :)

under the cut, if you please<3

Dew hated laundry duty. Hated it.

There was a constant flow of dirty clothes, someone in the ministry was a dirty freak and had clothes that were literally solid as a rock, and he wasn’t allowed to leave until all the clothes for the day were cleaned.

The Brother of Sin that was helping him was doing the exact opposite of helping. He had no idea how to do laundry, used hot water with non color separated clothes, and apparently had no idea what a dryer sheet was.

Dew eventually snapped and kicked the Brother out of the laundry room, making a very angry mental note to complain about him to Copia.

Though, even with the Brother being stupid, clothes were still getting cleaned while he was around, and now that he wasn’t, Dew was sure to be working for a lot later.

And then the laundry cleaner bottle exploded on him.

A towel may have been caught on fire…

When everyone saw Dew grumbling up a storm as he entered the common room hours after they had, they knew that he hadn’t had a good day.

“Dew! We made pasta! Do you want some?” Aurora asked, hoping to cheer the fire ghoul up.

Now, if it were anyone else, Dew would’ve snapped even after such a nice and tentative question, but this was Aurora, so he knew he couldn’t.

“No.” Dew said, albeit shortly. He then walked down the hall to his room, his tail thrashing and making clear he was pissed as hell.

Aurora looked back at the pack, getting head-shakes from the ghouls who had known Dew the longest.

“Honeydew,” Mountain spoke softly, his knuckles gently rapping on Dew’s door. “Are you alright?” Mountain asked quietly, hearing Dew grumble in response. Mountain smiled softly, expecting that response.

“May I come in?” Mountain asked, taking his hands away from the door. It was quiet for a moment before Mountain heard Dew drag himself out of bed and come over to the door, opening it and glaring up at the taller ghoul.

“You’re tired..” Mountain spoke, his voice gentle. Dew scoffed, upset that the tall ghoul could read him so well. “What about it?” Dew sneered, not in the mood to entertain anyone at the moment.

“I could make some tea. I have lavender in the kitchen, so it will help you sleep.” Mountain offered. “I don’t want your remedies,” Dew scoffed yet again, Mountain growing amused by the constant sound leaving the fire ghoul.

It was like he was trying to puff out smoke.

“That’s alright.” Mountain nodded. “What do you need?” Mountain asked.

Dew opened his mouth, definitely going to say something snappy. Though, he knew Mountain didn’t deserve that, and that he was safe with the bigger ghoul.

“A Mountain-Dew night…” Dew mumbled, glancing around before looking back at Mountain.

A Mountain-Dew night was a night where Mountain and Dew holed up in Mountain’s room, Mountain with some tea, and Dew with Mountain Dew soda. It was affectionately named by Swiss, though none of the pack really knew what happened on Mountain-Dew nights behind the earth ghoul’s door.

Everyone knew it was chaste and loving, but other than that they had not a clue.

Well, except Rain. But he could keep a secret like nobody else.

The earth ghoul smiled and nodded. “Do you want me to go get your soda?” Mountain asked. Dew shook his head, lacing his fingers with Mountain’s and walking to the bigger ghoul’s room.

Though, Dew halted and turned to the kitchen instead. Mountain laughed and gently pulled Dew back, shaking his head.

“I’ve had my tea for the day, Droplet. It seems tonight is a drink-less night,” Mountain smiled, pressing a kiss to Dew’s forehead and walking with him to his plant-filled room.

Dew remained silent, as he usually did during Mountain-Dew nights. Mountain didn’t mind, of course. He loved Dewdrop, both when he was silent and when he was loud.

Plus, Mountain would be a bit of a hypocrite to shun someone for being quiet.

Mountain led Dew into his room, allowing the small ghoul to raid his closet for his much bigger clothes. Once Dew returned in a sweater he looked like he was swimming in, he saw Mountain setting up a nest on his bed with soft blankets and pillows. An essential oil steamer was going, wafts of petrichor filling his nose.

“Rainy?” Dew asked, looking around. Mountain shook his head. “He promised Aeon that he’d stay in his room this week. I figured I’d get the next best thing since he can’t join us tonight.” Mountain spoke, his voice gentle as he did so.

Dew nodded and shuffling over, climbing into Mountain’s bed and helping him finish up the nest.

Mountain let Dew set up his side how he wanted, knowing not to interfere with the fire ghoul and his habits that helped him feel comfortable.

It wasn’t long before Dew was settled, his head nuzzled into the pillow Mountain used as he waited for the bigger ghoul to lay down.

As soon as the earth ghoul was settled, Dew draped himself over the bigger ghoul, purring as he heard Mountain’s steady heartbeat.

“Jane Austen?” Mountain asked, his voice almost silent. Dew nodded, his purring loud enough for Mountain to hear, but not obnoxious. Mountain picked up Pride and Prejudice, flipping to the page they left off at during the last Mountain-Dew night.

Mountain began to read, Dew’s purrs leveling out into a steady flow of utter content.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost the band #ravenssilver writes #nameless ghouls #dew ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #i feel like i’ve written too much angry dew #so this is more dew getting comforted <3 #and me sobbing over how much i love mountain in the background

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saccharinesunsetretired · 5 months

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Safe With Me | Gothbur x Reader

This took fifty years and it's not even that long MY BAD I've been working on a million writing projects at once and I'm terrible at time management. Anyway Gothbur is @abbs-writes-nsfw's creation, and I absolutely adore him, so this is mostly a gift for abbs :) sorry it is so short, but I hope you like it!

Summary: An attempt to lose your virginity to your boyfriend doesn't quite go as planned. Of course, he's a sweetheart about it.

Warnings/Tags: Virginity loss (sorta?), smut, discussions of sex/boundaries/comfort levels, mention of an uncomfortable (but consensual) past sexual experience, Gothbur is a demisexual icon and also an absolute sweetheart, brief alcohol usage but nothing crazy, hurt/comfort, reader is AFAB but gender neutral

Word Count: 2k

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOCKS WILL BE BLOCKED

The bed had been made earlier in the day—Wilbur’s red sheets still smelled fresh. They were warm against your back, having been taken out of the dryer not long before. Clearly, he’d finished setting everything up only moments before you arrived.

It had all started with a conversation over a few drinks in Wilbur’s apartment, just two new lovers up late at night with nothing to do. You’d just started dating him after being friends with him for months. The transition felt as natural as breathing. Wilbur was a steadying force, a calming presence. It was impossible for you to be upset when he was around. At least, you were never truly upset for long.

So that’s why, after a few shared drinks and stories, Wilbur asked you for a secret. He said it jokingly, like he expected a sarcastic answer. Instead, you’d been honest.

“I’m a virgin,” you’d said. You felt your cheeks get slightly hot as you waited for Wilbur’s judgment. As per usual with him, no judgment came. “And I haven’t told you yet, because I was worried it’d…I dunno. Be a dealbreaker or something, because I’m so inexperienced.”

Wilbur’s brows had furrowed as he gazed at you. The lights in his apartment were all turned off except for the purple LEDs that lined the walls of his bedroom. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to hide that from me. It’s fine. I don’t have any issue with it.”

“…You don’t?” you asked, hesitant.

Wilbur shook his head and scooted closer to you, setting his drink aside. He gave you the softest of smiles. “Of course not. I promise.” He rested his forehead against yours. “We’ll move at your pace, okay? Whatever feels comfortable.”

“How about soon?” The words left your lips before you could think twice about them. And then, it got worse. “Tonight, maybe?”

Wilbur laughed softly. “Sorry, darling, but I’d rather not take your virginity when we’ve both been drinking.” He gave your cheek a quick kiss. “But soon, okay? Promise.”

And he’d stayed true to his promise, because there you were—naked, lying on his clean sheets as you gazed up at him. His fingers were inside you, curling in all the right ways as you gasped and tried not to completely lose your composure. It was almost too much, the feeling of his hands on you, inside you, touching you. His face occasionally dipped down to where your neck met your shoulder so that he could press a kiss there and murmur more soft reassurances.

“You’re doing so good,” he said, voice soft and quiet. “Is this okay?” You couldn’t do anything but nod as you tried to hold back the noises that threatened to fall from your lips.

You were so, so close. You finally let yourself moan, small whines as he got you closer to the edge. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he murmured. He pressed a quick kiss to your jaw as he continued working his fingers, pressing them to your g-spot while massaging your clit gently with his other hand.

It didn’t take long for you to finish, panting, grasping at his wrist to make him stop his movements. He immediately caught the hint and pulled his hand away. You didn’t have words for how overwhelmed you were. It felt good, better than you could describe. Your legs trembled slightly, and they only stopped when Wilbur laid his hands gently on your thighs. “Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” he asked. His brows were furrowed in concern as he looked down at you. “Do you need a minute?”

“I’m okay,” you said. Truth was, you were a little freaked out. It was odd, being naked in front of someone else, even if that person was just Wilbur. Every sensation felt so foreign. Sure, you’d gotten yourself off before, but this was a completely different ballpark, and you found yourself hesitant. “Can I just have a quick minute?”

“No worries,” Wilbur said. He pressed a few kisses to your jaw. “I’ll grab a condom.” He shifted away, reaching for the bedside drawer. It gave you a moment to try and calm yourself down.

You told yourself there was nothing wrong, nothing to be afraid of. Wilbur loved you. This was right, this was good. So why did it feel so overwhelming?

You glanced at Wilbur as he rolled on a condom. You knew he was bigger than average—he’d warned you before taking his sweet time stretching you out—but seeing him put on the condom was a stark reminder. You glanced away quickly, not wanting him to see you staring.

He scooted back over to you. “Alright, love. Are you sure about this?” He looked at you with that same concerned expression.

“I’m fine, Wil. All good.” You managed a small smile as you parted your legs. He smiled back as he settled between them.

“Hey,” he said softly, “if you ever change your mind, tell me to stop, okay? I’ll stop, and we can try this some other time. It doesn’t all have to happen tonight.”

You nodded and relaxed slightly before giving him a quick kiss. “I trust you,” you replied. And it was true. You did trust him. You trusted him with everything, even if you were a little on edge.

“Okay.” He lined himself up. You could barely feel the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. He slowly entered you, pushing in just the tiniest amount. “Still alright?” he asked.

“Y-yeah…” Your voice was shaky. It didn’t hurt, but it was a bit of a stretch, and it felt…odd. “You can keep going.”

Wilbur nodded and pushed in a little more. He let out a shaky sigh as he did, a sign that he was thoroughly enjoying this. He was over halfway in. After a slight nod from you, silently urging him to go all the way, he did just that.

You let out a soft moan. He filled you completely. “Wil…”

“You’re doing so good for me,” he said quietly. He kissed your forehead. “Does it feel okay? I’m not hurting you?”

You shook your head. “You’re not hurting me.” But as you said that, the anxiety swelled back up within your chest. It was so much. His skin on your skin, the sheets, his cock, the muscles in your legs straining slightly to hold them in a position you weren’t used to. Every sensation felt like a little too much, but you wanted to keep going. Or, at least try. “You can go.”

Wilbur smiled down at you, but there was a hint of anxiety on his features. “Alright. Just relax, and tell me to stop if you need to.” He started moving, slow, languid movements of his hips. You let out a few quiet noises as he did so. Meanwhile, your mind spun.

You hadn’t expected to feel so vulnerable or so nervous. This wasn’t like what you thought it would be. It was simultaneously more and less intense. As Wilbur moved, and you felt every movement both inside and out, the anxiety got more and more prominent.

After a few more thrusts, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Could you please stop?” you asked. Your voice was quiet and shaky, but Wilbur immediately got the message.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course. Are you okay? Do you want me to pull out?” You nodded. To your utter embarrassment, tears were stinging your eyes. Wilbur immediately did as you asked, pulling out and sitting by your side so that your legs could rest.

He took off the condom and tossed it in the trash before quickly settling beside you, a clear sign that he didn’t expect this to continue any time soon. “Hey, darling, can you look at me?” he asked. His voice was soft but worried—there was a slightly higher pitch to it that he only took on when he was nervous. You looked at him despite your tears, and he immediately pressed a few quick kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “There you are, love. You’re safe. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out. “It—I was having fun, but then…it was…it was too much, and I got freaked out, and…” The words got more and more strained as you got closer to tears, and Wilbur ended up quietly shushing you.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s alright. You’re gonna be okay. There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He laid beside you, allowing you the option of cuddling if you wanted it, and of course you did.

You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Deep breaths, darling. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

As you laid in his arms, you knew it was true. Wilbur would never even dream of hurting you. You could still feel the slight tension in his muscles, an unspoken worry that he’d done something wrong and scared you away. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “It’s not your fault, I just…”

“It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead as he ran his fingers through your hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sucked in a small breath. “I…I guess I didn’t realize how overwhelming this would be, being with someone like this. And I know that I’m safe, that it’s just you, and that you’d never hurt me, but it’s just a lot to process. And I feel stupid, because people lose their virginity all the time, and most of them aren’t crying about it.”

“It’s not stupid,” Wilbur said softly. “Not at all.” He continued playing with your hair as he spoke. “You know…I had my first time before I found out I was demisexual.”

You had somehow never thought of that, but it made sense. He’d only figured out his sexuality recently, earlier in your relationship. “Oh,” you said quietly. “And was it…okay?”

“Embarrassing, mostly,” he confessed. “It was awkward. I didn’t know them very well, and I wasn’t really attracted to them, so it took me forever to get hard. It was sort of terrible. Fine and consensual, but really overwhelming.” His eyes met yours as you looked up at him. “I should have gone at my own pace, you know? The last thing I’d want is for you to feel rushed when you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said quietly. You couldn’t imagine that, trying to lose your virginity to someone you weren’t particularly interested in. After all, you’d chosen Wilbur for a reason. “Really, you deserved a better time than that.”

“And so do you,” Wilbur said. “So keep that in mind, okay, love? We can take things at your pace. I don’t mind waiting at all.” He pulled you into a gentle hug. “I love you. Remember that.”

“I love you too.” You settled into his arms, accepting the affection gratefully. After a few moments of silence, you spoke again, still worried that he’d taken offense. “I trust you, I really do. I just…”

“I know you do,” he replied. “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m happy, honestly, that you felt comfortable enough to say something.” A pause. “I would’ve been horrified if I learned later on that you only put up with that to make me happy. Nobody deserves that.”

That finally settled your nerves. “And you’re okay? You’re not disappointed?”

“Nah,” Wilbur said. “There are other things to do.” He ran his fingers through your hair, calm, slow movements to help settle you. “We could cuddle up, watch a movie…? Maybe?”

“Can we focus on the cuddling part first?” you asked, tone slightly teasing.

He smiled, and you could tell that he hadn’t been lying; there truly wasn’t even a hint of disappointment in his expression. It was almost hard to believe. Part of you had assumed that your first time would be uncomfortable, because wasn’t everyone’s? But Wilbur seemed to completely reject that idea. It was reassuring. “We can definitely focus on the cuddling part,” he said.

You pulled a blanket over the two of you and buried your face in his neck. He was right. There were always other things to do. And one day, you’d be ready. For now, the sheets were still warm, and Wilbur’s arms provided a reassuring shelter from the world. You could hear the soft sounds of his breathing and the slow beating of his heart. It was more than enough.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilbur x reader smut #wilbur smut #saccharine writes

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prongsmydeer · 5 months

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Things I liked about My Personal Weatherman (2023):

The much-remarked-upon idea that you can create a Pavlovian response in your partner to find sunny weather erotic if you date a meteorologist who only wants to have sex when it's going to be nice out

The reason for that accidental Pavlovian response being that they didn't have a dryer or extra sheets so the meteorologist wants to be considerate of their bedsheets drying on the clothesline

The absolutely unhinged behaviour of being friends with someone for ages and talking about your fave local celebrity crush with them every day, and never once telling that friend that the celebrity crush is your boyfriend

Two people being so incapable of voicing how they're feeling that despite being in a long-term, committed relationship, sleeping together, going on dates and arguably being engaged, they're still confused about if the other person likes them

The idea that despite all of those communication issues, you can maintain a relationship mostly by merit of being really open to constructive criticism, non-verbal gestures and having an obedience kink

A lot of the non-verbal gestures themselves (holding hands, the buying of extra sheets, smiling more, the feeding each other and caretaking when one person isn't well, the moment where Yoh wants to make a charm to make the rain go away)

The concept of falling in love with someone because you think their cooking is terrible and you find it very endearing and you will never tell them how bad it is

Things I didn't like about My Personal Weatherman (2023):

While it is good that Yoh doesn't actually do everything he is told, having the type of relationship they do (ongoing dynamic of obedience and control) and not talking what your boundaries and needs are is a hard pill to swallow, and can lead to concerns around consent

The repeated themes of jealousy and control without actually interrogating what it means for the characters (i.e. just moving past using a tracking device on your partner, lingering questions about financial and emotional dependence)

Mizuki, like many a protagonist, seems to have no friends in his life beyond his partner, and has a hard time accepting his partner spending time with friends. Get some friends, Mizuki!

Absolutely tired of shows framing interest in someone of the same gender as an exception to the rule rather than a part of a person's orientation

They don't get that much better at communicating as the shows goes on! There's hints of it (establishing desires and needs like being greeted at home, acknowledging the enjoyment of the obedience, asking what traits the other finds most appealing) but by the end, they still have not found a way to be more direct with one another. It leaves the plot feeling a bit listless

#my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #if ur gonna watch it on the basis of this post. please know. it is heavily based on the obedience thing #i would say i enjoyed it overall. but that is in the framework of my choosing to see it in the kindest light possible #a 'babe do you have a crush on me?'/'we're married' situation. but both ways. being insane about who you love and what you like #i could easily see someone else watching it and finding it upsetting #i was going to make the 'what i didn't like' a separate reblog but then i thought. no. u should get the whole picture #ayesha says things #japanese television #television #long post #suggestive #i kept going back and forth about a read more but i added it back in #varied views

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llau-ren-ti-a · 1 year

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Bad Batch Headcanons - Skin Conditions

I’ve had this on my mind for way too long now and I NEED to write it down.

For context: I think that their mutations and “enhancements” had some side effects and actually made them more sensitive or gave them some other issues, this is one of many. Maybe Regs have to deal with this too, but I’m running with the Bad Batch for now.

TW: skin conditions, acne, eczema, a little blood? self-harm and injury

Hunter

first of all - he has like the most sensitive skin ever

I’m talking unscented, only natural ingredients, ph-neutral, everything you can imagine

soap made from ash, lime and oil, like, really specific and gentle shit

but on the other hand worst mixed skin ever, goes from crazy oily to dryer than Tatooine at least once a week

he’s either looking like a glazed donut or a shedding lizard

he’d straight up put cooking oil on his face bc “oil is good for dry skin, right?

someone tell this man how to take care of himself istg

bandana hides his greasy roots

bandana may be tied in different styles to hide his dandruff

he‘s highkey insecure about it

he‘s shedding like a dog, his hair is everywhere

in the shower, on the bed sheets, in the food if he cooks

if he ever shaves, doesn’t matter where or how he’s getting the worst razor burn and ingrown hairs ever

he’s getting all the issues

also, a big candidate for body acne?

he gives me back acne vibes

doesn’t wash his bedsheets or towel nearly often enough

they actually all (accidentally?) share a towel and never wash it, I’m convinced

Tech

his skin is dry af like, eczema / neurodermitis / psoriasis dry

especially his hands and joints, like the inside of knees and elbows

and around his eyes, especially because of his goggles/glasses, but also in the corners

he researched everything but sometimes just can’t help it and almost scratches his skin off

Hunter makes him wear cotton gloves when he goes to bed

that’s why he never sleeps

Crosshair straight up ties his hands with bandages so he can’t scratch himself

also a very dry scalp / dandruff candidate

should spend all of his time moisturising

tinkering around the marauder and getting into contact with motor oils/hydraulic liquids/fuel only makes it so so so much worse

doesn't wear skin protection, especially not gloves because it 'inhabits his motor functions'

don't get me started on his nails and nailbeds, because I can see how inflamed and irritated the skin is

the skin also peels off

sweaty hands

has a lot of moles?

stresses about said moles

Wrecker

has the nicest skin ever

except for a big pore / blackhead here and there

usually around the nose or on his forehead

literally the guy who either doesn't use soap or uses the same bar of soap to wash everything

it works

healthy glow might be mistaken for oily skin but it's actually not

actually gets a sunburn often, especially on his head, but refuses to do anything about it

turns into a lobster on uv-light-intense missions

red skin, really tight and shiny

sometimes, if crosshair is feeling really mean he gives him a brotherly slap on the sunburnt shoulder

he gets mouth sores sometimes, like cold sores?

also very attractive to mosquitos? he sweats a lot

scratches his mosquito bites so there are little scars all over his body

really random but occasionally he gets like one big aggressive butt pimple and can't sit for a few days

is very vocal about said butt pimple

Crosshair

my beloved

he's also getting all the issues

had very bad acne as a cadet

especially around his chin and cheeks to the point he straight up refused to take off his helmet

now that he's done with puberty he has a bunch of acne scars left

still breaks out sometimes

very sensitive to water - he just washes his face like usual and suddenly breaks out because that particular planet's water is 'weird'

so much acne but dry af skin, it's hard to combat

skin picking as self harm

aggressive nail biter; not only the nails but the skin around it

he's actually one big hangnail

and his nailbeds and sides are always inflamed

toothpicks to stop him from picking his skin

or to try to stop him from smoking but this is not a mental health / addiction headcanon

I'm convinced he has the ugliest, driest old man elbows and knees, I just know that they look weird

Echo

technically a reg, I know

but his prosthetics sometimes don't sit right, so there's a lot of friction and a high risk of irritated skin, blisters and sores

he's so pale - not surprised at all if he gets sunburnt quickly

reminds everyone to use lotion / sunscreen

learned the hard way bc he listened to Fives

tries to keep everyone from making stupid mistakes

buir mode activated

Omega

baby

baby skin

for now

Echo attempts to keep her in check

gets one really bad sunburn and learns her lesson

can't move for 3 business days

also, not a skin condition but she spends 5 seconds in direct sunlight and is just covered in freckles

#bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch headcanons #the bad batch headcanons #bad batch hcs #the bad batch hcs #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb omega

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trivialbob · 9 months

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This morning I woke up at the insane time of 3:15 AM. Shockingly, I felt well rested. I read in bed for a while, finally finishing a book the library automatically renewed twice. I did not care for the ending. It seemed like the author looked at his watch or calendar and realized there's a deadline, so time to cram a lot of action and resolution into nine pages and call it done.

Then I got up and started laundry. I like doing laundry. That's why my wife doesn't care what I spend on a washer and dryer. She's relieved of laundry duty.

Of course I don't waste money on some machine that gives me a choice of chimes to signal the end of the cycle. I have a solid, practical washer/dryer combo. If they were cars they'd be Toyota Camrys, the XLE trim level, and probably with the V6.

After brewing and ingesting a fair amount of coffee I washed all the bedding in the house. Sunrise today was 6:56 AM. Any awake neighbors might have laughed at me because I was hanging sheets, a blanket, and a quilt on my clothesline two hours before the darkness left. Even the bats likely thought I was crazy.

When it finally got light outside I took the dogs to the airport dog park. Plane-watching sucked. We saw some other Aussies, which always makes me smile.'

When Ella, Oliver, and Sulley were tired I brought them home, Then I got my Surly Cross Check out for a ride. I did a ten mile loop around the three Minneapolis lakes I enjoy being at. The weather was perfect.

Later, grocery shopping followed by making the beds and cleaning around the house.

Sulley still had energy. He's a year-and-a-half old. Ella is 12 and Oliver is 10. It really pissed off the older dogs when I took only Sulley for a walk around Lake Harriet. The other two would have been too exhausted to complete the 2.8 mile loop, though Ella would have liked a swim.

Now I think I understand why Sulley did poorly in obedience school. He's rarely on a leash. Between our fenced-in back yard and the mostly fenced-in dog park, that boy isn't used to having a leash on except to go from the car to the park gate or when he's in a brewery.

At the lake the first ten minutes were awkward as he and I figured out leash protocol. Then it got easy. He was very well behaved. Now I'm starting to think of trying another obedience class, after I take him on more leashed long walks.

Top picture is a view of Bde Maka Ska from a bike path. That's the Dakota name that replaced Lake Calhoun as the lake's current name. The second picture is the trolley car that runs from Lake Harriet to Bde Maka Ska. The operator rang a bell to warn Sulley and me to not attempt to cross the street as the trolley approached. It was kind of cute.

Now I'm going to eat a Jimmy John's sub and watch the final season of Succession. I don't like waiting week by week for new episodes. I waited for some time and now I can binge watch it.

#I had time to squeeze in a solid nap or even two #But I didn't #It feels good getting a lot done on this normal day of rest

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Note

congrats on 1k!!! 💙💙🌻🌻 I would like to request Eddie and my favorite song of the moment which is 'House Song' by Searows. it's kinda sad but cozy, so feel free to go easy on my heart and not write it angsty. or do. 😭🥰

thank you bluey <3 oh my word, this is my first time hearing this song and it is so terribly cozy and yet so sad in such a familiar way. i chose to focus on the lyric "something inside of me is rotten, i have to find it and cut it out", and also was inspired by the line from Euripides in which Orestes says "it's rotten work." and Pylades replies "not to me. not if it's you."

also, totally unrelated, but if i could lock this piece away in my soul until my days end, i would. i got way too carried away and made a fool of myself i fear.

warnings: none except bad writing and me taking a metaphor too far as i tried too hard though be warned this one is in third person rather than second to switch it up!!!

1k celebration - come party with me!

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

People do not make good homes.

It is a hard lesson Eddie has had to learn in his twenty three years of life.

Wide, innocent eyes are not open windows with billowing curtains. Caressing limbs are not bed sheets to wrap you up on wintry mornings. Pursed lips are not crackling speakers bleeding out familiar tunes as a record turns against a needle. Soft kisses aren’t the scent of clean laundry, tired yawns aren’t creaks from the attic, and ribs are not enough to build up the four walls to make a home.

It happens every time; Eddie lets someone in, he opens himself up and lets the vulnerability drip from him in waves, until the fatal day comes in which suddenly the front door is closed on him, never to open again. The locks have been changed, the windows have been slammed shut, the sheets have been tucked under mattresses to grow cold. All the familiar, comforting old vinyls lay to rest and gather dust in a crate in the corner of abandoned rooms.

People do not make good homes. He has come to accept this. Until she came along.

Maybe her soft eyes weren't open windows to let in a summer’s breeze, but he swore he could still see the sun pouring in through their freshly painted panes. Maybe her steady arms weren’t clean sheets from the dryer, but they still blanket him in warmth all the same when they’d wrap their way around his waist. Whenever she’d open her mouth and give him a glimpse into her mind, it didn’t sound like his uncle’s old albums. It was something new, an unfamiliar melody he could neither tune out nor hum along to. She was a labyrinth of possibilities, a new shiny two-story house with the picket white fence. Bare feet against wooden floors that didn’t creak with protest, shimmering light fixtures that didn’t flicker with uncertainty, a front door swung wide open as if to say, come in. Make yourself at home.

And when he made no move to come inside, when he stayed planted in the pristine front yard clear of weeds and verdant with hope, she had simply left the porch light on for him. She shut the door, but she never turned the lock. A reassurance that her offer still stood, in soft smiles and understanding nods, until he was ready.

People should not make good homes. But then again, people like her existed.

Eddie kept up the battle long enough. But eventually, the war inside his mind had raged long enough, and he walked up those front porch steps. He reached out for the unlocked door, and it was a breath of relief when it opened for him with a gentle click. She never locked him out. She had kept her promise of an offer. And when he finally arrived in the entryway, when he finally breached the threshold, she was waiting there, eager and gentle and beautiful, already reaching for his coat. She had been waiting. Always waiting, always patient. Just for him.

Her walls were fresh with paint, layering over any imperfections left behind by previous tenants. All scuff marks left by kitchen screaming matches had long been buffed out of mahogany boards. There are no ticks in door frames to account for the change of her height over the years, no frames of the ones before him she had let in. No signs of anyone having made her house a home before him. He couldn’t see her history in the way she could see his. Instead, he had to listen to it. Over cups of lukewarm coffee made just the way he likes it, over photo albums she describes that sit in a box in the attic, left to rot but never be forgotten. He learns of her past as she speaks of it as if it didn’t happen to her, as if it had been some movie she’d seen on late night television. And his heart aches. Because as she tells him all this, as she hands over a key to her heart and shows him how to unlatch her bay windows, he can see what her eyes beg of him.

This has never been a home before. Please, make this house a home. Please.

But he’s terrified. His past is a conglomeration of abandoned cookie cutter homes, void of the warmth he feels beneath her surface. A doom town waiting for the atomic explosion. That’s what he is – the atomic explosion. He is the chaos and the destruction, the thing to burn down all that he holds sacred. It wasn’t hard to figure out; he had always been the common denominator in his own rotation of his own tenants. He’s terrified to add her home onto the end of the street, to lay in wait for the day he ruins all that they are. All that she is.

But then she’s kissing him. She’s kissing him, and she’s holding him, and she’s reading her favorite books aloud to him in the afternoon lulls, and he can’t help but indulge. Because she’s home. She’s baked cookies and framed photos of better days. She’s hot chocolate and white Christmas mornings. She’s strong oak trees in the backyard and fresh cut flowers in the kitchen.

People do not make good homes. But she is more than a metaphor.

The key to her hangs heavy on his keyring, but it is worth the weight on nights like tonight. Nights where he watches the rise and fall of her chest as her cheeks presses to his bare shoulder, her hand still curled around his even in her sleep. She loves him, she waits for him, she makes him feel more at home than anyone has in his twenty three years of life. Even after she had discovered the rot deep inside of him, she stayed and persisted as she digs it out and places down new baseboards, prepared to stand by his side as he makes the necessary renovations to himself that have been years in the making. She’s everything to him. She’s his home, his past be damned.

People do not always make good homes. They are nothing more than houses, and just because the lights are on in the windows does not mean they are meant to be the place you lay your head to rest. They do not come prefilled with the love and warmth that is needed to be good homes. It is a process, aching and terrible and hard enough work that most people will not bother. But with her in his arms, Eddie thinks he is finally learning what it means to make a house a home.

It was never about him making her house a home. It was about him finding home in himself, with her picture on his bedside table and her breath on his neck as she rests easy beside him. This lesson, as it turns out, wasn’t quite as hard to learn.

#bluey 💙#thank u ily <3 #1k celebration #i've got no words i think i flew too close to the sun or whatever #it's like when you give friends deep advice but have to end it with 'BUT LIKE IDK'#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #spoiler alert: this is not about houses/homes #almost none of it is #my high school english teacher would have a field day with me huh

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hargrove-mayfields · 1 year

Text

It’s Harringrove Week! Billy’s Birthday Bonanza Edition! @harringroveweek

prompt: Time Rewind (note: this fic is basically a prequel to my other two pieces for Harringrove week! I II)

warnings: lots of discussion of pregnancy in this one, specifically a trans man carrying, so if that makes you uncomfy don’t read

——

In Steve’s lap, there’s a eight month old, and a scrapbook.

Baby Carol is going through her second sleep regression, the poor teary-eyed babe fighting against the tiredness in her body that she can’t beat. Right now she’s chewing on the plush blanket that covers her and Steve as they sit; He allows it only because it came straight out of the dryer to be extra warm on this chilly spring evening, and because he’s taken it out of her mouth about a dozen times already.

He’s been trying to keep her distracted by showing her pictures from his old memory albums, though a lot of the memories are painful to relive, he’s still glad to have them, and to be here now, with his two little girls and another baby on the way.

The walk through his past, a tactic he’s used multiple nights in a row, does good enough distracting her, except for the times when it doesn’t since this little lady is just so unpredictable, but because she’s in an okay mood currently and neither of them are any closer to sleeping, he'll open up another one.

The last two albums have been of his childhood, photos taken by relatives, the school, those kinds of things. This one though, this one is him in his teenaged glory days.

Steve takes baby Carol’s chubby little hand, and guides it to a particular photo, letting her crinkle the protective paper over top. It’s from the house party where his world changed, for what seemed like the worse, and then the better.

In his silly Tom Cruise costume, with his arm around Billy Hargrove in a worse terminator get-up, and a glint in his eye that actually wasn’t from the tears, but from the laughter Billy had gifted him that night.

“This right here, this was the night we met. A long, long time ago.”

The baby prods at the edges of the photo, squeaking out a tiny little giggle. Steve kisses the top of her head, where her striking red hair is starting to grow just a little, “Yeah, he looks funny in his costume, doesn’t he?”

Her response is to put her lips together and blow a spit bubble. Steve isn’t sure what that means, but he nods like he does. He’s learned from parent groups, the kids’ pediatrician, and one extremely helpful nanny Joyce that it’s best to talk to little ones like he can understand every word they try to say.

The next page of the book progresses his life’s storyline, and since Carol is grasping at the heart stickers standing up off of that one, Steve moves on with her.

The first picture is a well-worn Polaroid, that used to be kept in the sun visor of his car.

“It was only a week after that that we went on our first date.” He slips it out of the protective sheet and lets her see, only taking it back when his precious memories almost become a chew toy. Instead of making a big deal of it, he points to the next picture to distract her before the cranky baby can get upset about her current fascination being taken away. “Here. He took me to the diner at 3am for waffles! Who eats breakfast at 3am?”

Another bubbly giggle. Steve kisses her soft little face. She’s so smart already, better at understanding than even he feels he is sometimes. He can tell why this helps her baby brain grow, because she looks at him with all the love and adoration in those precious, light colored eyes as can fit in the whole wide world.

Just like Steve’s heart. And his heart for his past too.

He sighs a little bit, “They had the best food there. We moved away though because I wanted to see his hometown. The beaches and the boardwalks. See how it’s so sunny?”

For that part, he has to skip ahead a few pages, past first kisses and first holidays.

First days in the hospital.

It’s supposed to be good to talk to his little girl, but now Steve doesn’t think he can relive certain moments without crying. That can wait until she’s finally put down for her much needed sleep.

Instead, he just moves on. To some photos from his first trip back to Indiana, to reunite with his friends and family back there. Gas is too expensive to make it too much of a commonality to head home, but he tries when he can. Since Carol was born he hasn’t made a trip down, though he really should. Dustin at least deserves to meet his new niece.

From that trip, he finds one of his favorite photos he has.

Nobody knew it yet, but Carol's older sister was on the way when it was taken.

“But see? Even though we’re smiling, the backgrounds in Hawkins are all dark and dreary. And it rained all over us that day!”

A couple of pages later, on top of the picture of him with a cold from getting wet, there’d be pages upon pages of snapshots from the moment the pregnancy was announced, to the baby shower, to the day little Chrissy was born.

Steve catches an accidental quiver in his voice when he reflects on the photo on this page though. Stuck in the past.

The one of him kissing Billy Hargrove during a Hawkins thunderstorm.

“He always hated the rain. Did you see his silly hair? I always teased that he looked like a little poodle dog when it got frizzy like that.”

A tear runs down his cheek. Baby Carol is none the wiser of what that means, as she looks up at him, probably to see why he got quiet, when his voice was supposed to be putting her to sleep.

“He was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen.”

The photobook isn’t over, but he can’t take anymore. Blame first trimester emotions or something else, he shuts it, and a tear drops on the hard cover.

“Sometimes I miss those days.”

Steve composes himself, enough to wipe his tears away on his shirt sleeve, and readjust so he can set the book down on the floor and hold his baby closer to his chest. His heart is warmed when she snuggles right up to him and almost closes her eyes, finally trying again to get some sleep.

He whispers to her, “But I’m happier now that you’re here, baby girl.”

Then the nursery door opens up, softly so it doesn’t disturb the baby as she nods off slowly, and Steve instantly feels the rain clouds part.

It’s Billy, returning from getting their older daughter back to sleep after the high wailing from Carol woke her up. He asks softly, barely audible to accommodate the need for silence, “You two sweeties gossiping ‘bout me in here?”

Steve looks up at his fiancé, a loving smile adorned on his face, “A little bit.”

Kneeling in front of the chair, Billy kisses his little girl's head, finally getting her to close her eyes fully, and eventually sleep. Watching her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the pink flush of her pale face, Billy’s eyes shine and glimmer like he's meeting her for the first time all over again.

He jokes quietly, maybe to cover for the fact that they’ve both been tearing up, Steve about the photo book and Billy just from seeing his baby girl, “I bet she said she loved me, and that I’m super awesome.”

“I think she actually said- I’m the super best, but she does love both of us.” Steve corrects playfully, after being with Billy for years now, getting good at his teasing games.

It earns a little chuckle out of Billy, that makes baby Carol roll towards him, just a little bit, though her journey into sleep is undisturbed. That softens Billy up right to his core, and has him letting Steve win before their jokes even really started, too busy watching this little human they created in fascination, “Hm. I guess that works.”

Eventually, the chair starts being uncomfortable on Steve’s back, and Billy doesn’t feel great either on the floor anymore, so they carry Carol to her actual bassinet where she’s supposed to sleep, their breaths caught together as they see if being disconnected from her papa will wake her. But she doesn’t stir one bit, so they turn the baby monitor on and leave to their own room, where their older daughter is sleeping until they can finish turning the empty office space down the hall into an appropriate bedroom for their Chrissy, and for Carol too when they nursery has another little resident in six more months.

They crawl into bed, each on their own side because being in his third month of pregnancy with their third child means Steve is basically guaranteed to get up at least once in the night to get sick, or use the toilet, or something random his body decides it needs. Still, Billy reaches over and tucks some of Steve’s messy, needs-trimmed hair behind his ear.

It reminds Steve of something he wanted to say earlier, when they expressed their adoration for their baby but not one another. He declares in a voice that is both passionate and gentle, “Love you too by the way.”

Billy is sleepy, or more like exhausted after a long night trying to get the babies down for bed. That means he doesn’t respond with his words, knowing they’d probably come out in some unintelligible slurring, but rather, just scoots a tiny bit closer so he can extend his next and kiss Steve softly, to wordlessly reiterate his feelings too.

Steve knows that even if it meant getting to go back in time and relive those happy memories he’d reflected on, he would never ever trade this contentment away. Not for any price.

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #transmasc steve harrington #tw pregnancy #my writing #ej writer

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violette-hue · 2 years

Note

Hiii writer, I didn't know how to answer on my own box so I'm gonna write here. It's like Daichi give her a ticket for parking the car where she should not do it. ^^ Sorry for don't explain before. Thank you

Summary: Cop!Daichi gives you a parking ticket, and later they run into each other at a bar. You really don’t like this guy as he tries to justify the ticket. (Request by @misslili265 )

Trigger Warning(s): slight enemies to lovers, cursing, the police, being broke

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! May or may not make a part two 👀 I really liked this idea 😊

Requests are open!

“No, no, no.” You rushed out the building to your car, crossing the busy downtown street. “Shit!”

On your windshield was a small yellow sheet a paper. A fucking parking ticket. You sighed in frustration. The parking meter had only just ran out of time and you were going to fill it back up for another hour. Whoever gave this ticket was an A1 douche.

You looked around to see if you could find the cop, and luckily, he was about several cars down, giving another parking ticket to some poor, poor individual.

“Hey!” you called, shuffling over to him. “Hi, sorry Officer—um—I got a ticket? I was just going to put some extra coins for another hour…”

The officer looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Okay?”

“So, can you take this ticket back? Please?”

At this, the officer fully turned toward you, his eyebrows raised. “No.”

You felt your eye twitch and your fingers spasm around the ticket, crumpling the stupid yellow paper. You bit your tongue as irritation rose in you, but you were insulting the officer before you knew it. “Thanks for nothing, you royal jerk.”

You spun on your heal and sashayed away. Would you regret this later, absolutely. But now you just needed that little sliver of satisfaction the irritation on his face gave you.

That ticket had put a huge dent in your account. You sighed as you slammed your laptop shut. You’d just have to live off ramen until your next paycheck. No biggie. Except you really, really wanted a pizza. Another sigh passed through your lips, this time more aggressive. It couldn’t be helped. That ass hat of a cop screwed this check up for you.

You forced yourself to stand from your ancient couch and grabbed your laundry. There was no use in sulking over something you couldn’t change, and you really needed to do your laundry. You tossed the diluted laundry soap in your hamper and hauled it down the few flights that lead to the laundry room. You had wanted to grab a new bottle of laundry soap on the way home, but then you wouldn’t have been able to pay for the ticket. And you really did not want to get your license suspended.

The laundry room of your apartment building was small, only housing three washers and three dryers. Of those dryers, only one worked properly. The others either left your clothes still wet, or went absolute ham and shrunk all your clothes. Fortunately for you, that dryer was already occupied, as were one of the washer machines. You loaded the washer and went to grab your laundry soap when you noticed whoever was doing their laundry left their own soap. You looked around the small room and even peaked your head out into the hallway. Not a soul was around. You grabbed the fuller, non-diluted laundry soap and poured it over your clothes. You couldn’t be helped with doing things the proper way and filling that small compartment.

“Do you always steal laundry soap from strangers?”

You jumped, quickly screwing the top back on and placed the soap down. You turned to see your accuser, and you really wish you hadn’t. Your face turned into a sour scowl and you turned back to starting the washer.

“I do when they’re an asshole of a cop and robbed me of all my money. Take it as restitution,” you responded, not bothering to hide the disdain in your voice.

“It’s not my fault your meter ran out of money,” the cop from earlier stated, walking over to his own laundry. Fuck that was his laundry in the washer and dryer.

“I told you I was going to refill it.” You slammed the washer shut and turned to your nemesis. “I barely had enough money for the meter, then you slap me with a ticket I definitely did not have the money for. Sorry if I had to steal your expensive soap.”

“Even if I wanted to take back the ticket, I couldn’t. Once it’s in the system, it’s there until you pay it or it gets dismissed by a judge.”

The cop leaned against the dryer facing you, his arms crossed over his chest. You mentally kicked yourself as your eyes lingered a little too long on how thick arms. And wide chest.

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“Let me make it up do you. Keep the soap.”

You turned to the cop, eyes narrowed with annoyance. “How generously chivalrous of you,” you said sarcastically, grabbing his soap. You weren’t going to let this freebie pass you by, even if this guy was a dick.

“And let me take you out to dinner.”

You nearly choked at that. This guy had the nerve to give you a ticket, be a royal jerk, and then ask you out? You shook your head, scoffing. “No.”

“Whatever you want. I’m sure that’s better than ramen, or whatever microwave meals you buy.”

Your eyes were practically almost closed with how hard you were glaring at him. You drummed your fingers on the laundry soap bottle, thinking hard. You could say yes and get a free pizza out of it, but for how much that ticket was, that wasn’t nearly enough compensation. And this cop was cute…maybe even a little too handsome…and buff. He couldn’t be that much of a dick face if he was offering to make it up to you. You chewed on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“Fine. Pizza tonight, then a fancy, expensive dinner this weekend. Bring me flowers,” you finally answered. “And be thankful I’m not making you grovel at my feet.”

The cop raised a brow and a smile graced his features. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement and he nodded. “Alright, your highness. I’ll pick you up at 7:00 Friday.”

You couldn’t help but return the smile. “I prefer goddess. And I like green peppers on my pizza.”

“My type of girl.” The cop smiled wider and pulled out his phone.

You climbed on top of the washer to sit as he ordered the pizza and some garlic knots. You smiled wider. Pizza and garlic knots? He must really be interested.

Once he was finished on the phone, you asked, “So I take it you live here too?”

“Yeah—third floor. Unit 302.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I live in 310. How have I never seen you before?”

He shrugged. “I usually work nights. I just picked up an extra shift for some overtime. Must be fate.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesiness, but for some reason it tugged on your heart. “Mmm. Does Officer Royal Jerk have an actual name?”

The cop laughed, bringing his hands over his heart. “You wound me. I was just doing my job.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s your name?”

The cop moved to stand next to the washer you were seated on. “Daichi.”

You nodded, trying and failing to contain a smile. “Sounds like a jerk’s name.”

Daichi laughed and his thick arm brushed against your bare thigh. You laughed along with him. When the pizza finally arrived, you both ate your fill. Daichi stayed in the laundry room long after his clothes were finished. You thought he was waiting for you to be done. It was sweet and made you smile like an idiot.

That stupid smile stayed on your face as you walked with Daichi up to the third floor and to your apartment.

“Well, this is me,” you said, placing your laundry basket on the floor.

Daichi nodded and shifted his laundry basket. “I’ll see you at 7:00 on Friday. Wear something fancy and expensive.”

You giggled at him using your words against you. You supposed you did have a fancy and expansive looking dress you could bring out of retirement.

“Don’t be late Officer Douche,” you said playfully.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, goddess.”

Requests are open!

#daichi sawamura #daichi imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #daichi #daichi x reader #daichi fluff #daichi imagines #sawamura daichi #daichi x y/n #karasuno #cop!daichi #Daichi in the future #violette hue

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joellesolo · 10 months

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Neurodivergency is wild, everyone.

The neurodivergent urge to NEVER throw anything away, even if it’s broken/torn/ruined in some way, JUST IN CASE it comes in handy.

I have a pajama rotation I have lived by for over five years, and my Thurs-Sun top between showers is this super comfy HU lounge tank. Well, a couple years ago it got a hole in it, so, I went to the HU site and replaced it (and in hindsight, should’ve bought like five of them). Fast forward to now, there are like, five dime sized holes in my current replacement tank, and I was spiraling (because that’s all I’ve been doing lately 🙃) because I can’t really sew, and I can’t just BUY a new shirt that’s a totally different texture (because I did that for my Tues-Thurs pj shirt and it’s been a year and I STILL don’t like the new one, too thick) so I googled how to sew and it was not going well, so I posted on facebook whining about the neurodivergent routines and clothing rotations I have, honestly just hoping someone would offer to fix my shirt for me 😅 (side note: I did try to find the actual shirt, first on poshmark with no luck, then on HU with no luck, then I found it on a super sketchy site which was cool except it was super sketchy and the link wouldn’t even open on my husband’s phone when I sent it to him so, that was a no go 😞)

And, someone commented explaining they totally get it!! and had knowledge of sewing and was trying to ask me about the fabric, if I could patch it, etc., and I’m like, no, it’s pretty lightweight, I don’t have any other shirt that’s similar otherwise it would solve my problem ha, and while they’re trying to talk me through it I get hit by this random thought:

“Wait, what if I saved the original one?? I don’t like to throw things out! I always save stuff! I could use the original as scrap fabric for patches!!”

So I went digging through three boxes of old clothes in my closet, was about to admit defeat, then thought to check my pajama drawer, and, it was the second shirt from the top. SECOND FROM THE TOP. It’s just been hanging out in my pajama drawer for two/three years, I didn’t toss it even though it has a hole!

And I was like, perfect! I can just cut up this one and then patch the other one and don’t have to worry about different textures! And then my brain took it one step further and went, wait a minute, the old shirt has ONE tiny little pea sized hole, the current shirt has five dime sized holes... why not mend the shirt that’s in better shape instead of cutting it up and trying to fix five fucking holes?!

So I threw it in the dryer with a dryer sheet (because it smelled like stale drawer) while I showered, and now I don’t even care about fixing it because it’s my SHIRT and it’s the proper day and it fits just right and is super lightweight and I will worry about mending it when the hole gets bigger (or when someone offers to do it for me 😅) 😂

So, yeah, that was a crazy/chaotic two hours of pure stress for no reason. And DAMN I hate my brain sometimes (like needing a pajama rotation!) but DAMN I love it sometimes (like saving a holey shirt!) and it was just a wild ride.

So here are the shirts, the original on the left (you can tell it was in a drawer cuz the fold lines while the one on the right was on a hanger 😂) and a picture of me being so damn proud of myself for essentially being a hoarder 😅

And if you ever, EVER, happen to see the Her Universe Jedi Napper Yoda Lounge Tank in a Medium on poshmark or ebay or any of those sites, please let me know so I can snatch it up 😂

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hobaworld7 · 1 year

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JJK • You're on your period

Disclaimer : BTS don't belong to me, either does JungKook. That's how i imagine members in situation.

I'm a baby army so please stay nice in the comments and don't forget to gave me ida for futur post! Thank you and i hope you'll enjoy it.

_ _ _

It was a little past 11pm when you woke up in pain. Your period had started this morning and the cramps were so bad thats you had stayed in bed all day. You weren't able to find a comfortable position to sleep because every part of your body was hurting. You decided that a hot shower and some pain meds would be the greatest combo right now. When you got out of bed you saw a little stain of period blood on the sweatpants you borrowed and the sheet.

'fuck fuck fuck' you sighed.

You were staying at your bf's place for the weekend because he was out of town. You were watching his dog because he had a big show tonight. Even tho you've been together for a few months, staining your boyfriends sheet AND sweatpants was never nice. So you took them off the bed and start a laundry run so they could be clean for when he come home in the morning. Bam was sleeping on the floor, unbothered by all your emotions. Because you weren't just hurting from your period but your feelings were a thousand times stronger so you were crying because you felt so bad. After taking a shower (and cry all the water out of your body) you put on some legging from your bag and a hoodie from your bf wardrobe and decided to go sleep on the couch so you didn't stain his mastress. You'll just make the bed in the morning, when you'll feel better.

Except that the pain meds knock you out, and you wake-up on the couch, with JungKook hands on your forehead.

'hey, what are you doing on the couch? is my bed not comfy enough? are you sick?' his soft voice murmured.

And then your eyes filled up with tears. And you start to cry like a baby. Again.

'No... I'm- I'm on my period, and i stain your sheet... I'm so sorry i must have felt asleep when they were in the dryer. I'm sorry Kook, I'll buy new one okay?'

He took a deep breath, not to laugh about all those cru for what seems like nothing for him. He layed beside you and hug you with his strong arms. His hand stroking your hair.

'Hey babe, it's okay. It's human. It happens. Don't worry about the sheet okay? Do you need some pain meds or do you want to take a hot shower to ease your cramps? Something to eat?'

You let out a little sniff, trying to ease the tears with some deep breaths.

'I-I... I stain your sweatpants too. I'm sorryyy..'

You couldn't be angry at the little laugh escaping his lips because, even tho you were crying. You know how stupid it was from you to cry over this. But the tears were just not ready to leave yet.

He lowered his hand on your thighs amd felt your legging.

'Babe, is it why you're aleeping with leggings on? It must not be comfy? You always had my clothes on when you're here. Let's go. Let's get you all freshen up and in my clothes. You'll be more comfy okay.'

Seeing that you weren't moving from the couch, he just lift you, like the princess you were and bring you to the bathroom.

'I'm really pathetic right?' A little laugh got out of your mouth.

'I mean, i can't really understand how you feel but yes it's a little funny to see you like this. But it's okay, don't worry about the sheets or my clothes.'

Kook smiled at you and kissed your forehead. 'Now go in the shower and i'll get you a hot towel and some comfy clothes okay?'

Half an hour has past when you got out of the shower, all freshen up and feeling a little bit better. You uterus was still hurting and you're belly all bloated but some pain meds would do the trick for today. You put on the black sweatpants and the purple hoodie Kookie gave you and got out to find him in the kitchen, cooking some korean chicken porridge, the perfect meal when someone is sick.

'So how about that, we eat and watch your favorite tvshow and after that cuddle all day long in my fresh clean bed with a little belly massage so you feel better?'

You go in the kitchen and decided to hug him like a needy little koala. He lowered the heat from the stove top and turn to you so he can hug you. His arms goes around your shoulder and he kissed the top of your head.

'It sounds amazing.' You said.

'Perfect, I love you my little bear'

'I love you too Kookie'

___

If you want to read more, here is the link of my masterlist : https://www.tumblr.com/kimtaehyung-taetae-writing/710423978560421888/masterlist?source=share

thank you army!

#jungkook #bts #imagine #imagine bts #kookie #jk #bangtan #jeong jungkook #jungkookie

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meditating-dog-lover · 3 months

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New eczema trigger identified - dryer sheets

I was washing my clothes and bed sheets, folding towels and putting away my clothes. I use Tide laundry detergent and Bounce dryer sheets which are terrible for your skin (I bought the Bounce dryer sheets last Sunday).

I woke up this morning with clearish and calm skin. Then I walked my dog, and it was warm outside. Then I started to wash, fold and put away my clothes, bedsheets, and towels. Then my hands turned red and started to itch. My sister said it's the fragrance in the dryer sheets and helped me find more skin friendly alternatives on Amazon.

This is a case of contact dermatitis rather than a food sensitivity related inflammatory response, even though I know tomatoes cause my skin to flare when I consume them. That's why both patch allergy and food sensitivity testing would be essential for me. I'm also wondering if my laundry detergent is irritating my skin. Soaps (both dish and hand soaps) tend to slightly irritate my skin. Except some soap brands.

I saw this video on Amazon about treating eczema by getting to the root causes:

youtube

The doctor talks about various root causes like nutritional deficiencies (I've addressed mine and take vitamin D and omega 3 fatty acids regularly), IgE mediated allergies (both food and environmental which I'm currently working on), and gut disorders that manifest as skin inflammation (microbiome imbalances and leaky gut, I'm not quite there yet and I doubt this is the cause of my eczema because I don't have any obvious gut discomfort).

Just as a note: I'm not an allergy expert, but I think when she is referring to food sensitivities, she means IgG mediation rather than IgE (IgE mediation is triggered by skin irritants like soaps, detergents, fragrances, chemicals, etc... that cause contact dermatitis). Food allergies are also IgE mediated and result in hives, swelling, and anaphylaxis, whereas food sensitivities, which are IgG mediated, cause inflammatory conditions like eczema. But I'm not 100% certain of this. I always saw eczema is IgG mediated rather than IgE (unless it's contact dermatitis).

Also another cause not mentioned in the video is detoxing issues. Either you are constantly exposed to irritants or your detoxing organs (lungs, kidneys, gut, and liver) are not functioning effectively.

Anyways I'm still waiting to do the food sensitivity and allergy patch tests. That should take care of my eczema thankfully. I love proving doctors wrong by addressing my health issues from a root cause perspective, because it always works.

#Youtube

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