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#bill just loves his kids okay
irregularbillcipher · 9 months
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honestly something that is more annoying than "that character would not fucking say that" or "i'm assigning you to actually look at the source material again" type headcanons are when you come across a headcanon where there is nothing technically wrong with it and you can't sit there and say "well you just don't get this like i do" because there is no actual solid evidence that whatever they're saying can't be the case, but it still feels like mischaracterization because of your own way too intense headcanons. and you're aware of that so you just have to sit there silently telling yourself "that is just as valid a read of the character as my interpretation :)" and trying not to go ham because you know you have genuinely no justification for feeling like canon is being ignored
#sorry for me this is whenever someone is like 'birdie is a widower and had a healthy relationship with his boys' mom'#technically until the 18th this is as canon as any other interpretations as to why birdie is a single dad#like nobody is reading anything WRONG here it just feels so fundamentally wrong to ME#(in all honesty though my main reasoning is that his whole character is mourning people he's lost. if he lost a partner he loved deeply#who was the mother of his children who he CANONICALLY loves and misses... he would be a wreck about it. as it is he never mentions the boys#mom and neither does his bio. his entire bio is an explanation of his worst losses and why he feels the need to drink. a loving partner#would probably get a mention. the fact that he was a /widower/ and not just a 'single dad' would get a mention#also considering the fact that there is a HEAVY implication that he's the only one paying for his kids' medical bills it doesn't#seem like a coparenting situation where maybe he just calls himself a single dad because majority custody or w/e. idk not to keep giving#this poor man a bunch of L's but 'birdie with a loving relationship to the boys' mom' just feels incomprehensible. she's clearly not in#their lives so the answers are she's dead or a deadbeat. he doesn't mourn her which takes dead off the table. sooooooooooo)#(okay so i suppose i do have some reasonings but i am aware i'm insane about them)#(.... any thoughts i have about kryptos gravity falls definitely falls under this tho)
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heroes-fading · 11 months
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alright your rockstar anon is back to talk except off anon bc you have provided me with a new set of brain rot
wouldve couldve shouldve?????? being That song was so real and !!!!!!! one of the things I love about it is the universality of the bridge - “give me back my girlhood it was mine first” can apply to SO MANY THINGS, theres so much relatability to it and there’s probably a trend that blows up to Ellie’s song with people resonating with the song
so I’m just imagining the wave of social media support Ellie gets during that law suit, and while the entire situation is horrendous, the public outside of the courts understands and they support Ellie fully
also cant remember if this is on your spotify playlist but may I propose a song rec: praying by Kesha
hmmmm just re-listened to song rec (I only remembered the vibes when suggesting it) and I feel like the religious undertones are either1) ignore the song rec2) a way to say fuck you to handing out bibles at a festival David
---
LOVE thank you so much for being invested in this lil universe it makes me so happy!!! praying is a BANGER and dr l*ke was exactly one of the people I was thinking of when writing this iteration of david. kesha's court battle was really top of mind for me.
tbh I would love to believe in unanimous public support for ellie but after living through the past two years on social media...i think a lot of people would get it and for others it'd take the article and a lot of other women and girls coming forward to break through to them. and it shouldn't have to. but this is the world we live in. it helps that a record producer would be without the built in fanbase of movie stars or directors or big acts, so the backlash to ellie publicly wouldn't be that bad.
the support would probably outweigh the backlash, especially with another big act in her corner (joel's fanbase of random anti mainstream middle aged dudes and the Depressed Community would probably have her back and follow his example) but others would stay entirely silent for fear of retribution until tides really turned.
the saddest part of it is how common it is with women who come forward - and now we suddenly have the precedent of defamation lawsuits for women even daring to speak now even in vague terms. the closest we get to justice is when multiple women speak out and the solidarity that exists there but like...by that point that shit is serial.
the people that get it though fucking get it.
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wavygrayvy · 2 years
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Just finished Under the Banner of Heaven and I gotta say a) watching the lady 3 episodes in one day was emotionally way too much and probably a mistake. b) this is gonna live in my head for a long while and *not* in a fun blorbo way and c) I never want to hear my dad make fun of my taste in media again because there was nothing cute, childish, or comedic about this one.
Oh and bonus thought: very glad they let Jeb say fuck. Poor guy deserved it.
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augustinewrites · 11 months
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does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭
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“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can. 
“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before. 
“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.
“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place. 
“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.
“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”
“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.” 
with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head. 
“satoru, please don’t freak out—”
he freaks out. 
he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”
you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”
“what grade curse was it?”
“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”
“you’re only grade one. why would they—”
“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”
“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently. 
“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.” 
“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”
“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”
“well when you come home hurt, yeah!” 
he regrets it as soon as he says it. 
and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.” 
“hey…”
he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.
_____
freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.
“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.” 
“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket. 
he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”
“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him. 
“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.” 
(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)
“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”
wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat. 
“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.” 
“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”
“ah. about that….”
_____
“alright, dinner’s served!”
you the kids exchange a look.
megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”
“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”
“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.
tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.
“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”
“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.
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marcsburnerphone · 2 months
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And they were roommates
(Captain John price x F!reader)
Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: none yet
Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
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———————
“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.
“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.
“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.
“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.
“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.
“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.
“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.
“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.
“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.
“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.
“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.
“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.
“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.
“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.
“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.
“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet
‘of course’.
“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.
“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.
“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.
“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.
—————-
“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.
“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.
‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.
“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.
—————————-
“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.
“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.
“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.
“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.
“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.
“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.
“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.
“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.
“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.
————————
“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.
“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.
“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.
“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.
“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.
“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.
“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.
“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.
“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.
“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.
But what if?
——————-
“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.
“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.
“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.
“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.
“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.
“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.
“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.
He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.
“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.
“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.
“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.
“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.
“No worries love.” He nods to you.
“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.
He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.
—————————————-
I’m ready for a new story.
Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3
If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.
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Okay time for the PBS Kids essay
Read it under the cut!
:readmore:
In 1968, before there was PBS Kids proper, there was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. While it came several decades before the children’s block, it laid the foundation for the themes and values present in every facet of the network’s history.
Mr. Roger famously hated children’s programming at the time. To him, it all was droll and useless. But he didn’t dissuade the medium entirely— he saw potential. Potential that led to a few smaller television jobs, and eventually the creation of Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.
Rogers didn’t invent educational TV for children, but he did perfect it. He poured real heart and soul into probably the most sincere, heartfelt program in history.
Honestly, he could have his own essay. The more things you learn about the real man of Mr. Rogers, the more you’ll like him.
Anyway, the biggest thing that makes PBS different is the fact that it earns money through grants, fundraisers, and private donors— not through sponsorships and merchandise sales. This way, PBS Kids can push programming that it feels is important, rather than programming that merely sells well.
This also means PBS is less afraid of pushing social boundaries. Money doesn’t go away when their shows become subjects of debate— and Mr. Rogers took full advantage of this.
For context, this was 1969. The Jim Crow era had just barely, barely ended. Pool segregation was still very much legal.
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Mr. Rogers sharing a pool and a towel with the Black Mr. Clemmons was a pretty big deal at the time— especially on a show made for children.
Rogers was far from the untouchable sacred cow of today. When he was alive, he had a large number of detractors. Let’s just say that scene didn’t fly nicely by everyone.
Just one year after the debut of Mr. Roger’s came Sesame Street.
While Mr. Roger’s was made for all children, Sesame Street had the explicit goal of supplementing the education of underserved communities— especially inner-city Black (and later Latino) children.
While it was made to be accessible to children of all races and income levels, they definitely went the extra mile to make it something special for inner-city Black and Brown kids. (Why do you think it it’s “Sesame Street” and not “Sesame Cul-de-Sac”?)
At the time, a wholesome, sweet show set in a brownstone street was practically unheard of.
Jon Stone, the casting director, deliberately sought to make the cast as rich with color as he possibly could, bringing on a huge amount of Black talent such as Loretta Long, Matt Robinson, and Kevin Clash, as well as featuring Black celebrities as guest stars. Later, the show would expand its horizons, bringing on actors from Latino, Asian, Native American, and many more backgrounds.
White actors were and still are a minority on show.
In addition to letters and numbers, the purpose of Sesame Street is clear: make kids of color know that they’re smart, beautiful, and loved.
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It doesn’t get more explicit than this.
I want to point out this comment because it’s funny
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You’re telling me this bitch isn’t Hispanic???
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Anyway, these two were followed up by Reading Rainbow in 1983. And guess what?
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That’s right. Non-white focus.
These three shows, (along with other, lesser-known programs like Lamb-Chops Play Along, Newton’s Apple, and Shining Times Station (who featured Ringo Starr himself?? seriously how did that happen and why does no one talk about it) and some other nostalgic favorites like Bill Nye the Science guy, The Magic Schoolbus, Arthur, and Thomas the Tank Engine) aired on the new PTV block, which evolved into PBS Kids in 1999, bringing along Between the Lions, Dragon Tales, and many more.
Arthur is another stand-out that I’d like to talk about— it doesn’t have the same racial focus of Sesame Street, but it does focus on different income levels. The characters have various housing situations, from apartments to mansions to no home at all.
It also takes cues from Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s in regards to talking about tough topics, though as Arthur has a slightly older target audience, it discusses things through stories rather than talking directly to the audience.
Cancer, religion, workplace discrimination, along with current (at the time) events such as 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina are all discussed on the show.
Another big focus on Arthur is disability. For once, they don’t stick a character in a wheelchair and then pretend he’s not in a wheelchair. A striking number of major characters either develop or get diagnosed with physical disabilities and/or neurodivergences, such as asthma, severe food allergies, and dyslexia, and they deal with them in very realistic ways.
A handful of minor characters have more obvious disabilities, and THANK GOD they go beyond the trite messaging of “disabled people can do everything abled people can do! everyone clap now!”
One episode in particular has the awesome message of “holy shit stop trying to help me all the time— it’s patronizing as fuck. I can get around just fine without you stepping on eggshells and trying to be the hero all the fucking time”
There are sooo many other shows I could talk about, but I can’t write about them all. I’m definitely gonna point out some more standout ones, though.
Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat
Created by Chinese-American woman Amy Tang
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Dragonfly TV
Features a multitude of female and non-white scientists to foster an interest in science with kids in those groups
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Maya & Miguel
One of the network’s first Hispanic-led shows
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SciGirls
I shouldn’t have to explain what the goal of this one was.
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Molly of Denali
When was the last time you saw a show that treated Native Americans as people? Much less a children’s show? 90% of the cast is Athabascan, and the show revolves around Athabascan culture, not shying away from topics like boarding schools and modern-day racism. Most of the writers are also Athabascan, and the show even has an official Gwich’in dub!
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It’s this commitment to real, authentic social justice that makes PBS Kids so much different from its competitors. Could you imagine the Paw Patrol dog looking at the camera and earnestly discussing what happened to George Floyd? I don’t think so— but Arthur talked specifically about it, Sesame Street did an hour long special about race in general, and the network itself made a 30 minute special.
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Disney Jr. could never. (Other than trying to teach colorblindness, of course.)
I’m gonna have to cut this into two parts, since I just hit the image limit
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cheeseceli · 7 months
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SKZ arguing over the bill
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Pairing: ot8!skz × gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff
Request: yes!
Warning: mentions of food, reader never pays lmao. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin's were heavily inspired by "Telling your Stray Kids boyfriend you can’t afford to eat out with them" by @ronnierites . If you don't allow this pls lemme know and I'll delete this post. Not proofread
A/n: that's kinda a new format, hope you guys like it! And this have been on my to do list since forever lol sorry for the wait
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Bang Chan
Doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable
But he wants to spoil you so badly
Would let you pay if you were uncomfortable but he wants to make sure you get it he would love to pay for you as well
"You know Chris, I can pay for it."
"I know."
"So?"
"I'd rather do it. But thank you baby."
"But-" you stopped talking once you saw his card swiping. You truly should be used at this point "oh."
"Why do I feel like you're unhappy?"
"It's not that I am not happy, it's just that you always pay."
"It's my pleasure."
"But I don't know, I don't want you to think you're being pressured or something like that."
"Babe, I don't feel like that at all. Don't you worry. You're always doing so much for me, that's just a little 'thank you' of mine."
You gave him a little smile and proceeded to hug him, feeling safe in his warmth.
"I'm so lucky to have you."
"I should be the one saying it."
Lee Know
Bro you don't even spare a chance
He's paying before you even have a chance to take your wallet out of your pocket
I'm surprised you even try tbh
"Should we ask for the bill?"
"Oh, I already paid for it, don't worry."
You looked dumbfounded at him while he was finishing his food. You didn't see him talk to a waiter and you're sure he didn't pay for it before you two had your meal.
"What? When?"
"When we were asking for the dishes. Didn't you see it?"
"No?" you tried to recall the moment with no success "Why would you pay? I feel bad that you pay for everything all the time. I don't feel like reciprocating enough."
His eyes soften and a little smile comes to his lips while he watches you pout. If only you knew how much you did for him.
"Hey, look at me. It's okay. You already reciprocate with everything you do. That's already perfect"
Changbin
He pays with the money, you pay back with kisses
Sorry but that's his boyfriend duty
He is physically incapable of not paying for everything
"Hey baby. I'm off work in 40 minutes. I'll pick you up so we can have lunch, okay?"
You were glad that for once you were on a voice call with him instead of being in a face time like you'd usually do. This way he didn't see the way your smile dropped so quickly.
"Um, I don't think I'll be able to."
"Oh? Why?"
"I'm kinda... broke right now. I haven't received my last payment yet."
"Okay? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't want you to be the one who always pays for our things. I should be able to pay sometimes."
"You don't need to. That's my boyfriend duty. You know I don't mind, I actually enjoy it quite a lot."
"Still bothers me though. I'd hate to not contribute at all."
"You can always cuddle with me and shower me with kisses. That will make me happier than anything money can buy."
Hyunjin
Stop he'll be like genuinely so sad if he can't pay
He would let you pay if you were really insistent
But then he'll go like :( and you would let him take the bill out of pity lmao
"Hyunjin, stop looking at me like that."
"But darling, I can pay. You know it doesn't bother me."
"Just this once, let me pay, okay?"
"Okay"
"...Jinnie I really need you to stop that."
"I'm not even doing anything."
"Oh God" you sigh and let your head fall, knowing the man beside you won the argument once more "Fine. You can pay."
He didn't waste a second, swiping his card as fast as possible just so you couldn't have the time to change your mind. After he payed the meal, he took your hand in his and started to walk in the direction of the restaurant's exit with a triumphant (and really sweet) smile.
"I swear I don't get why you like to pay so much."
"My love should be treated as royalty, and that includes me paying for everything you wish for."
Han
Bro is offended
Believes with all his heart that he should be the one paying
Tries to distract you when the time to pay comes
"Were you paying while I was in the restroom?"
"... perhaps."
"Han."
"Baby. You know I like to pay for you."
"But you do that all the time."
"It's my way of showing love! If you ask me, I actually don't think it's enough. It's the least I can do."
He could see in your eyes that you weren't convinced. Unfortunately (for you), he only saw that as an opportunity to spend even more money. Maybe then you would believe him.
"C'mon, lemme show you a little bit of love. You can pay me back with thousands of kisses if that's what's bothering you."
Felix
He loves to pay.
If he could, he would pay for absolutely everything that you could ever want or need.
But if that's something which really bothers you, he will let you pay as well
Tries to do that "the one who invites is the one who pays" thing and fails
"Felix. Don't even dare."
He looked at you confused until he realised you were staring at the credit card in his hand, probably hoping that it could disappear before the waiter came back with the bill.
"C'mon, it's just a small lunch. I can pay for it."
"No. I invited you. I pay."
"Actually, if you think about it, I'm the one who suggested this place."
"Two years ago."
"Still counts."
"Not as an invitation though. I'm the one who asked if you wanted to come here."
Felix sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince you of otherwise. If only he could.
"Okay. Next time it's on me."
Seungmin
LMAO sorry you're 100% not paying
Don't even try
Boyfriend duty pt 2 except he is even more dedicated somehow
"Why did you bring your wallet?"
"I wanted to pay for this one."
"... why?"
"You always pay for everything."
"And I don't plan on stopping so you can take your wallet away."
"Minnie, please. I don't want you to be the one who always end up paying for everything."
"But I want to. I wouldn't mind paying for every single thing for the rest of our lives. So you can't take your money away of my sight because I'm paying."
"For the rest of our lives huh?"
"Don't tease." But you didn't miss how the corners of his lips lifted once he thought you weren't looking anymore.
I.N
Rock, paper, scissors. The winner is the one who pays
It's funny and neither of you can complain about the outcome of it because it's technically fair
Except you always throw scissors first and never noticed it
And Jeongin doesn't have the heart to tell you
"We should change this game."
"No way" he said while giving the money to the cashier whilst trying to hide his grin from you "Not my fault you are horrible at this."
"Seriously though, I think you're cheating. It's impossible for you to win every single time."
"How does one cheat at 'rock, paper, scissors'? Besides, you won yesterday."
"After losing at least 50 times. And I got to pay for some ice cream. It's not the same as paying for a whole meal."
"Get better at this and maybe you get to pay for a whole meal one day. C'mon, we can have some milkshake now. Maybe you'll win this time."
You had a feeling you wouldn't though. He was sure you wouldn't.
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Dividers by @cafekitsune
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wynnyfryd · 5 months
Text
Trailer Park Steve AU part 4
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
September
He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.
One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.
“Stab anyone today?”
“Eat glass, Harrington.”
So it goes.
Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.
Things with his mom are weird.
They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.
And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)
Anyway.
Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…
It’s just not the same.
Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.
Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.
“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?
Yeah.
He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.
Fucking absurd.
…Five more minutes.
Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.
He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:
“STEVE!!!”
And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.
His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.
“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”
Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”
“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”
Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”
Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.
Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”
“I was working.”
“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”
Goddammit.
Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”
Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.
“Man, don’t—”
“Bull. Shit.”
Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”
part 5
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esquen · 5 months
Note
Omg please do if the reader got pregnant and Mike’s reaction and Abby’s reaction I just think that would be so cute
i think we all collectively agree mike would be so happy to be a dad (if he was stable mentally and financially)
you were starting to worry mike. you couldn’t keep your dinner from last night down in the morning, and he had to patiently hold your hair up and away from your face as you coughed it all out.
he felt that it was somehow his fault (it was), thinking he’d accidentally given you food poisoning. he called you out of work and kept the fan pointed in your direction with a bucket and a glass of water on the night stand.
abby joined you in his bed a few hours after he left. she’d only recently woken up and noticed you weren’t in the kitchen making breakfast.
she slept a little longer than you did, trying your best to leave the bed without waking her up. you felt like you knew what was wrong, but you wanted to make sure.
as you silently walked towards the phone in the kitchen, you dialed mike’s office number. you called him atleast once everyday, to ask what he wanted for dinner or just to check in on him.
“hello?” mike asks. the sound of him typing on the keyboard drowns out the chatter of his co-workers. “hi baby.” you mumble, crossing your arms.
“hey, babe. how are you?” he asks, stopping his fingers as he holds the phone eagerly against his ear. “i’m better. could you stop by the pharmacy and pick up a few things?” you licked your lips nervously. you didn’t know how to tell him you thought you were pregnant.
“yeah, hold on,” he mumbles, tearing a piece of paper and clicking a pen from what you could hear. “alright, what do you need?”
“a gatorade and a pregnancy test.” you kept it short, just wanting to get the conversation over with.
mike went silent for a few seconds before you heard him scribble down your request. “okay. i’ll be home at 5.”
“i love you.” you mutter. “i love you more.” he whispers back, hanging up the phone. you sighed anxiously, deciding to get started on lunch.
the next 6 hours were painfully long as you waited for your boyfriend. you were scared— not only because you’d have a new addition to the family, but because you didn’t know how mike would react.
when he came through the door with the small white plastic bag, his eyebrows were furrowed as you came to meet him at the door.
“hey baby.” he greets, hand coming to cradle your back as he presses a kiss to your lips, holding up the bag to you. “thanks.” you mumble, opening the bag and taking out the gatorade.
you smiled up at him and put it on the counter, making your way towards the bathroom with the pregnancy tests.
mike and abby talked in a whisper for some reason as you waited for your results. the test was flipped over so you couldn’t see what it said, thoughts racing as you tapped your fingers against the counter.
the alarm on your watch went off, signifying that it was time to flip the test over. swallowing all your guilt and worry, you flipped the stick over.
the two red lines from hell.
you weren’t particularly mad at the result, you just didn’t plan on it happening like this. or this early.
you sighed at the sight, turning around to unlock the bathroom door and towards the living room again.
abby was curled up on the couch, her cartoon’s playing quietly as mike wrote through his bills.
you pressed your lips together until he noticed you, putting his pen down as he stared at you with more love than anyone has before.
you put the test on the table, sliding it towards him. he picks it up feverishly and studies it, pupils dilating at the result.
he wants to jump up and scream, cheer— whatever. but he didn’t want to wake abby up. he chewed at his bottom lip and tried to shy away a smile, standing up and hugging you. “i’m gonna take such good care of you.” he muttered into your ear.
revealing it to abby was the least of your worries. she was a kid, so you had no fear of getting judged by her.
“abby?” mike calls out from her door frame. she turns around, looking at her brother. “yeah?” she responds. mike swallows and looks over at you.
“uhm.. y/n and i— we’re gonna have a baby.” he sighs, eyes never leaving yours until he had to turn and look at abby’s reaction.
her eyelids shot open at the reveal, sitting upright to look at her brothers girlfriend. “serious?” she asks, hopping off the bed.
“serious.” you nod with a laugh. she’s throwing herself into your arms so fast, you didn’t even see it coming.
you look up at mike from the squatting position you were in, staring at you as you chat about the baby to his little sister.
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lovebugism · 2 months
Note
I had this idea about eddie dating reader who is obsessed with pop boy bands! tysmm
i'm so obsessed with this idea bless you anon — the town freak tries to impress the local cool girl and, in true eddie munson fashion, it doesn't go as quite expected (friends to lovers, fluff, shameless it reference, 1.1k)
bug's one year celebration ♡
Eddie stands across the counter at Family Video and lays a collection of cassettes on top of it. 
Steve blinks once at the tapes, then twice up at him. “…What is this?” he wonders, visibly dumbfounded.
“Do you interrogate every customer that comes in here?” the wild-haired boy quips, digging into the pockets of his leather jacket for some wadded-up bills. “Just scan it.”
“New Kids on the Block? New Edition?” Steve announces as he bags each plastic case. His chiseled features twist in confusion. “Who are you, and what did you do with Eddie Munson?”
“It’s not for me, dingus.”
“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, who the hell is it for then?”
“Someone. No one,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging and shifting his weight on his feet, doing a terrible job of hiding his sudden sheepishness. “Don’t worry about it.”
Steve’s eyes narrow. “A girl?”
“…Maybe.”
“A pretty girl?”
Eddie scoffs an unamusing laugh. “Sure. If that’s the only way your pea brain knows how to describe someone as… uncanny, and demonic, and fascinating as she is.”
Steve’s brows pinch in a subtle horror. He’s not sure what most of those words mean, but they don’t really sound like compliments. He just shrugs and decides not to press it any further. “…Okay.”
“She’s just into this stuff, okay?” Eddie confesses, gesticulating wildly with his ringed hands. “And I wanna like the things that she likes— Is that so bad?”
“Yeah, actually. It’s very, very bad,” Steve answers without thinking twice. He passes him the plastic bag full of tapes with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “’Cause that means you’re in love.”
————— 
Eddie stands outside the arcade in wait for you. He knows you always come to The Palace on Fridays — right before the school day ends, so you have a couple hours of peace before the snotty middle schoolers run you out with their post-P.E. stench.
He wears a set of headphones over his untamed curls and a walkman clipped to his jeans. It plays a pop song he’s only ever heard on the car radio. Steve’s radio, specifically. He’s heard you hum it a time or two, and it’s the only time he’s ever been able to stand it — as if he needed another reason to prove Steve right. 
He was head over heels, disgustingly, wretchedly, completely, utterly, and totally in love with you.
Propped against the driver’s side door of his van, he exhales smoke from his lungs and sees you walking down the sidewalk. 
Your pink tights swish at the knees while your plaid skirt, in a grass green color, flutters around your thighs. Your sweater’s bright blue, and the only thing halfway matching the rest of your outfit is the bright emerald dinosaur pictured on the front of it.
You beam at the sight of him. “Teddy? What are you doing here?”
“I’d guess the same thing you’re doing here, sweetheart,” he quips, playing cool as he snuffs out his cigarette with the heel of his worn sneaker.
“Normally, you’re busy on Fridays… I’m starting to feel like you’re stalking me.”
Eddie’s deep brown eyes narrow, twinkling with dark chocolate. “And how would you know that I’m busy on Fridays?” he teases, tilting his wild head to his shoulder.
You shrug, faltering for a blink of a moment. “Corroded Coffin always performs on Fridays. Everyone knows that.”
“Well, maybe just you and the… four other drunks that happento come to the Hideout on Fridays,” he jokes with a boyish laugh.
“Touché,” you concede, smiling wider. “Whatcha listening to?”
You reach out for him, taking the headphones from his ears like you always do. You place them over your own head and expect to hear something loud and heavy — that’s what you usually catch him listening to, anyway. A wide smile blooms on your lips when a familiar song fills your ears.
“New Kids on the Block?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, voice distant with disbelief.
Eddie had been expecting this. He’d spent ten minutes praying this exact moment would happen, but he stumbles over himself about it anyway. “Yeah. Uh, Family Video— They’re selling tapes and stuff now— To keep from going out of business, I guess,” he stammers, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I don’t know. I guess, I thought I’d—”
“Buy it for yourself?” you finish for him, with a knowing grin on your petaled mouth. “And then try to impress me by waiting outside the arcade I go to every Friday? Even though you’re usually busy practicing?”
You see right through him with little effort. Mostly because you’re one and the same — hopelessly in love and tripping over yourselves with it.
Eddie nods, then laughs. “Yeah, actually. That’s— That’s the half of it, yeah.”
Your smile quietens when you slip the headphones back over his head, fingers brushing his curls and palms grazing his flushed cheeks. “Maybe we can go together sometime?” you offer and step back from him again. “I can show you where they kept the real music. You know, make sure they got the right stuff to listen to.”
His chest swells. He almost forgets to breathe. 
He never, in a million years, would’ve expected his first unofficial date with you to be at Family Video, of all places — but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He figures he could go just about anywhere and be happy as long as he could look over and see you standing right beside him.
Eddie nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. That sounds— That sounds good.”
“I’ll call you when I’m free,” you tease and walk on by him. 
You’re always free. He knows that. You’re always everywhere and nowhere all at once. Even now, standing right in front of him, you’ll disappear like you’d never been there at all. You just like to keep him guessing, really, and he knows that, too. It’s why he melts for you so easy.
“Okay,” he nods, rapid and utterly dumb.
“I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”
He watches you meander towards the entrance of the arcade. Words start to bubble in his throat. They spill out before his brain can decide whether or not to actually say them. “Please don’t go girl,” he blurts while the lyrics of the same song croon in his ears.
You spin around and blink wordlessly at him. You don’t look confused, but you don’t look impressed either. Eddie can’t gauge the emotion on your face, and he falters.
“That’s the... That’s the name of… of one of their songs,” he stammers.
He blinks, and you’re beaming again. A golden laugh spills from your lips, like honey and summer and sunshine. “I know, Teddy,” you grin — voice as warm and as fond as your glittering gaze. 
He grieves when you turn away again, walking into the arcade without looking back at him once.
Eddie doesn’t breathe again until you’re gone, forgets how to until you’re done clouding his vision.
You’ll be the death of him yet.
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roosterforme · 3 months
Text
The Younger Kind Part 45 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley is loving his life at home. Skittles continues to fit right in while you inadvertently insist on nearly finding the one thing Bradley wants to keep hidden. A family day at the beach followed by a night alone with you are the only things he wants to focus on right now. It would be great if that's what he was allowed to do.
Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)
Length: 4000 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.
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It was late by the time Bradley got home with Skittles, and you were pretty tired after assisting with an emergency at work. But Noah must have heard him pull into the driveway as he called out, "Daddy's back!" in the middle of coloring a rainbow turtle. He was out of his seat and heading for the front door before you could stop him, but it didn't matter, because you were anxious to see Bradley, too.
When you rounded the corner, he was kneeling on the floor and collecting Noah in his arms, a light blue bakery box on the floor next to him. You were used to seeing him with one arm around Noah while he held Skittles, but right now he was looking up at you like you were the only thing in the room worth his attention. It was remarkable that he still made you feel this giddy.
"Hey, Baby," he rasped. "You had a good day? Your emergency patient doing okay?" Then he stood up with his arms full and leaned down to kiss your forehead. He was still in his uniform, tall and strong, holding everything you cared about against his chest. 
"Yeah. I had a good day," you replied, somehow managing to squeeze your way between Noah and Skittles to give him a kiss on the neck while he chuckled. 
"Me too. Skittles got a clean bill of health," he whispered, and you could hear his stomach growling. It had probably been seven or eight hours since he had lunch, so you bent to pick up the bakery box, already craving a donut.
"That's good. Come on," you coaxed, tucking your index finger inside the top of his pants and earning a raised eyebrow as you tugged him toward the kitchen. "We already ate, but I'll heat up some leftovers for you while the two of you color."
"Daddy, is Skittles your best friend?" Noah asked as you set the box on the counter and took a peek. You gasped, because it was filled with crown donuts. You looked at Bradley over your shoulder where he was now sitting with his son on his lap.
"I think technically either Mommy or Aunt Natasha is my best friend, Bub."
You smiled as Noah sternly said, "No. It's Skittles. Mommy and Aunts don't count."
"Right. My bad," Bradley replied as he fiddled with something in his pocket. When he met your eyes, you noticed his cheeks were a little flushed as you bit into one of the donuts. "I got you a whole dozen this time."
"I see that," you replied, setting it down again so you could heat up a plate of food. "Did you run into Casey?"
"I did not," he replied as Noah handed him a green crayon. "It was just Skittles and I running up the credit card bill. That animal clinic is expensive."
"I believe it," you replied, taking a bite of potato from his plate to make sure it was hot enough. You'd always wanted a dog, but according to your parents, everything to do with pets was too pricey. They wouldn't even let you have a goldfish when you were a kid. 
You set Bradley's dinner in front of him before grabbing the container of ants on logs out of the refrigerator for Noah. You arranged them on a plate in a zigzag shape before giving them to him, and he had one in his mouth before the plate was all the way set down. When you turned to get your donut, Bradley reached out and wrapped his hand around your thigh, pulling you back to him. 
"Princess," he whispered. "I love you."
He looked tired, and he was clearly in a bit of a soft mood. Maybe even sentimental. The way he called you his best friend a few minutes ago made you smile even now. But his dark eyes held so much devotion as he examined your face that you ran your fingers down along his cheek and let your forehead rest against his. You knew he was starving; you could still hear his stomach growling, but he made no move to release your leg to take a bite of his dinner. So you just stayed there, your lips brushing his every time you moved.
"I love you too, Daddy."
You grinned against his kiss as Noah crunched loudly on his carrot sticks. This was where you belonged. You could barely even remember the details of your tiny rental because of all of the richness of your home with Bradley. It was overpowering. Living with Bradley and Noah had a dreamlike quality that made everything better. 
"You need to eat," you whispered, kissing Bradley one more time before returning to your donut. 
-----------------------------
"I want Skittles to sleep in my bed!" Noah was practically crying, his cheeks bright red with frustration as Bradley tried to get him ready to go to sleep. He was overtired and cranky, and right now he was inconsolable. "You said after she got her cast off, she could sleep in my bed!"
"Noah," Bradley said in his softest tone as his son's arms flailed in his pajama shirt. "I said we can try, but we can't force Skittles to do things. Do you understand?"
But he just whined, "I want her to sleep in my bed!" 
Bradley sighed where he sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor, the engagement ring still tucked in his khaki uniform pants pocket. He didn't know where to put it. He didn't even know exactly when he wanted to give it to you. But he desperately needed to get it stashed away somewhere before he just proposed to you tonight, because having it on his person was making him feel a certain way about you. Maybe it was a good thing that Noah was kind of killing the vibe.
"Just get in bed," Bradley told him. "If you get in bed right now, I'll bring Skittles in."
He watched Noah launch himself into his twin bed and pull the blankets up to his chin. The odds that the pup would stay in Noah's room even for a few minutes were pretty slim. You had her out in the backyard right now so she could go to the bathroom, but the little pooch was almost glued to Bradley's side whenever he was home. 
As soon as you walked back inside in your cute little shorts and tank top set with Skittles at your feet, Bradley bent and scooped her up. "Noah is losing his mind. Wish me luck." He turned away from you with a smirk and kissed Skittles on her head. "If you stay in there until Noah falls asleep and long enough for me to fuck my Princess, I'll give you a treat."
You were cracking up in the kitchen as he walked away. "You're bargaining with the dog!" But he knew better. Skittles wasn't just a dog, she was his best friend after all.
Noah's eyes lit up in the soft glow from the nightlight when Bradley entered his bedroom with the pup. "She got used to her own bed, okay? So if she doesn't want to stay, we can't make her." But Noah's arms were outstretched, ready to hold his pet, and Bradley got her nestled in under the blankets next to his little body. 
As the dog looked up at him, concern for her new sleeping arrangement in her puppy eyes, Bradley bent to kiss Noah on the forehead and Skittles next to her bow. "Try to go right to sleep," he whispered to Noah. "I'm serious."
He just giggled in response as the dog licked his face, and Bradley did not see this little experiment ending well as he exited the room. He patted his pants pocket just as he had been doing all night. It took all he had within him not to open up the box and check to make sure your ring was secure, and he still didn't know where to put it for safekeeping.
When he entered his bedroom, he abandoned the idea of finding a good hiding spot when he found you in the middle of the bed wearing your paper crown. You looked so young and impossibly innocent with your glossy lips and your pajama set, but your filthy words betrayed you. "I heard you wanted to fuck a Princess."
He ran his fingers through his hair and smirked as he stood next to the side of the bed while you crawled toward him. "I always want my Princess," he whispered as your lips hovered just inches away from his zipper. When you looked up at him, every trace of innocence was completely gone, and you leaned in until your lips met his tip through his khakis. "Baby," he moaned, but before you could get his zipper down, he reached for your hands. 
"What's wrong?" you asked as he pulled you up so you were kneeling in front of him. 
"Nothing's wrong. Everything is very right."
You smiled up at him as he kissed your lips softly. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, as plainly evidenced by the ring in his pocket right next to where your hand just settled. So as he guided your fingers up to his chest, he asked, "Do you want to go on a date with me?"
You laughed against his lips. "You're asking me on a date? We're already in a relationship."
Bradley's hands settled on your hips as he nipped along your jaw until his mouth was next to your ear. "Doesn't mean I can't ask you out. I got selected to fly in the air show, and I want you to be my date for the weekend."
"Really?" you gasped, your fingers tightening around his shirt buttons. "Noah and I get to watch you fly? And you and I can tour the children's hospital?"
"Mmhmm. I wasn't about to let you go with Jake. That man only has one thing on his mind when it comes to you."
"Oh yeah?" you asked, feigning pure innocence once again through your voice. "What does he have on his mind?" When Bradley responded by tucking his hand inside your tiny shorts and stroking your bare pussy, first you gasped, and then you laughed.
His touch remained soft and tentative as he slipped one finger down to tease your opening. "You see, he doesn't want you the way I want you."
"How do you want me?" you whimpered softly, kissing his lips. 
"I want you with me for the rest of my life."
"Daddy!" you whined, kissing him desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew nobody else had ever spoken to you the way he did, but he also knew he'd never been in love like this before. This time, when you reached for his zipper, he let you have him. His shirt and pants ended up on the floor along with your tiny pajamas, and you welcomed him into your tight pussy as you told him you loved him.
"I have everything," he groaned as he made love to you as you peppered kisses along his flushed cheeks. "You're everything."
After you came for him, Bradley let himself indulge in filling you up while thinking about your belly all swollen and pregnant, and you reached for him just as Skittle came trotting back into the bedroom. Your soft laughter as Bradley curled up behind you had him laughing, too.
"The dog will literally do anything you ask," you whispered as she walked across the room and turned three circles around her dog bed before plopping down. "She stayed in bed with Noah long enough for you to fuck me."
"Dogs are man's best friend for a reason, Princess."
You snuggled in his arms for a few minutes, fingers laced with his as you kissed his forearm. Just as Bradley was starting to doze off, you said, "I'll check on Noah before I get ready for bed." He squeezed you tight one time before releasing you and rolling onto his back to stretch. "Ow!" you gasped when you climbed out of bed. "Shit! I just stepped on something hard in your uniform pants."
His eyes went wide as you started to bend down to investigate, but he vaulted out of bed. "I'll take care of it," he practically yelled, and you dropped his pants. The ring box made a soft thud as it hit the floor, and you gave him a strange look. 
"Okay," you replied, glancing at him one more time before pulling your pajamas on and heading out of the room.
"Fuck," Bradley grunted, picking up the pants and rooting around in the pocket until the box was in his hand. He turned away from the door and snapped it open, revealing the most perfect ring he had ever seen. He was already obsessed with imagining it on your finger. But he snapped it closed again quickly and ran for the dresser. 
He could leave it with his undershirts, but when he opened that drawer, he realized you were in that one a lot, often borrowing from him. He opened the next drawer down, but it was filled with your cute underwear, so that definitely wouldn't work. He reached for the bottom drawer which was filled with his socks, but he heard you coming back down the hallway, so he dropped the box and kicked it shut.
"Aren't you going to get ready for bed?" you asked as you plugged your phone into the charger, still eyeing him a little cautiously. Bradley realized he was just awkwardly standing there naked in front of the dresser for seemingly no reason, so he was definitely going to have to move the ring later. 
"Yeah," he agreed, grabbing some clean underwear and kissing you as he walked past. "Getting ready for bed."
--------------------------
On Thursday, Bradley let you know that everyone was insisting on a beach day on Saturday, but when you texted Natasha about what kind of bathing suit she was planning on wearing, she claimed she might not even go. 
"Well I don't know if I want to go if Nat isn't going," you complained to Bradley while you made dinner. "I don't want to be the only female there. In a bathing suit. That would be weird."
"She's going," Bradley said with an eye roll. "She's just being difficult, because she's trying to pretend nothing is going on with Javy. Besides, I'm not going unless you're going." He took the spoon you were holding out of your hand and spun you around to face him. "I don't want to go anywhere without my Princess."
You let him kiss you and slip his hands underneath your top, trying not to moan as his calloused hands danced softly along your skin. When his lips skimmed along your cheek, you whispered, "You just want me there to help you walk safely across the uneven rocks and sand." You bit your lip as he eased his face away from yours to give you a cautionary look. So of course you immediately added, "Because you're such an old man."
One big hand slipped down and softly spanked you on the butt as you laughed. "Old or not, I can still get the job done. And that includes walking across the beach."
"Sure, Daddy. But I'll go, too. Just in case."
"Thank you. Now if you think you can be nice for a minute, I have something to tell you."
"I can be very nice," you said, kissing him on the tip of his nose before spinning around to check on dinner. 
Bradley patted you on the butt before reaching into the refrigerator to get two beers out. "Penny offered to take Noah home after the beach and keep him for the night."
As he opened both bottles, your gaze drifted to where Noah was sitting on the kitchen floor, building blocks while Skittles basked in the last rays of the setting sun. You licked your lips as you watched Bradley press his mouth to his beer and take a long drink, the bob of his Adam's apple capturing your attention. "We'd have the house to ourselves for the night?"
He winked at you as he set his beer on the counter and pressed the other one into your hand. "Just you and me," he rasped, pecking your cheek. "And I can think of a few fun ways to pass the time."
Then he was on the floor with Noah, and Skittles was in his lap, but he kept shooting you his smug smile that you liked so much.
On Friday night, after Noah was in bed, you started to get things packed up for the following day. "Why do we need so much stuff to go anywhere?" you mused out loud as you found sunblock and beach towels.
"Oh, hell no," Bradley said, taking you by the hips and pulling you away from the tote bag you were packing. "First of all, you used to bring your textbooks over in that bag when you were babysitting, so it gives me an instant boner." You erupted into laughter as he held you against his chest. "But second, you drastically over packed when we went to the lakehouse."
You looked up at him over your shoulder. "I know," you whispered. "But I want Noah to have anything he might need or want. And you know how my parents were." You didn't like talking about them. They never understood you when you were a child, and that's why you'd moved out as soon as you could. They were also the reason you had a hard time spending Bradley's money even though he wanted you to be comfortable.
"I know, Baby," Bradley crooned, and you melted back against him. "I love how much you love Noah. And I hate that you never got to do anything or ask for anything when you were his age, but there's no need to go overboard for a beach day."
You nodded. "Well then why don't you help me pack?"
"I'd be happy to."
But you and Bradley spent more time kissing and laughing softly than anything else. His hands were all over you, just pulling you closer and trying to keep you there. "Let's go to bed," he whined for the third time, convinced you'd packed everything the three of you could possibly need. "I want to cuddle with you."
You nearly shrieked as he picked you up, leaving the pile of gear for the beach next to the front door, and carried you back to the bedroom. "Oh, you want to cuddle?"
He hummed and nodded against your shoulder. "Yeah. Let's save all the nasty shit for when we're home alone tomorrow night." Butterflies erupted in your belly as he set you down on the bed and climbed in next to you. "Let's cuddle."
You were wrapped up tight in his arms, Bradley's soft, even breaths tickling your neck as he whispered that he loved you. This was perhaps the safest you'd ever felt in your life. Nobody was going to hurt you here. Not now. Bradley would take care of that. And you would take care of him. 
As you snuggled in to go to sleep, your eyes caught on the items lined up on the dresser. "What's all of that out for?" you asked softly.
"Huh?" Bradley grunted, probably already part way asleep. But you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at the purple USB drive, a pile of your underwear, your purple plug, your paper crown, and the bottle of lube. All sitting in a tidy row.
"On the dresser, Bradley."
"Oh," he said with a chuckle as he pulled you down flat again. "I started packing for the weekend, too. So to speak."
-------------------------
Bradley grunted, trying his best not to let you see how awkwardly he was walking across the sand. Not after you made the claim that he'd need you to hold his hand and guide him. You and Noah pranced ahead of him, but he was stuck carrying two bags, a cooler, an umbrella and a beach chair. And the temperature of the sand was roughly that of the surface of the sun. 
"Fuck," he growled as the sand rushed into his flip flops and his aviators slid down his nose. How you were managing was literally beyond him. He just wanted to get this afternoon over with and get you back home and into bed. He had some plans for you, all of which were becoming more explicit by the moment as he watched your ass swaying in your purple bikini bottoms. 
Literally the last thing he needed right now was to become aroused, so he just pushed your delicious looking rear end from his mind. Apparently you found the perfect spot, because you finally stopped and turned around to look for him. Then you laughed and left Noah with Nat while you made your way back to him. 
"This sand is fucking hot," he complained before you could say anything at all. 
You took one of the bags and the umbrella from him as you said, "It's August, Daddy. Of course the sand is hot. Do you need me to help you along? Or, I could run back to the Bronco and get your walker?" You started to turn in the direction of the parking lot with an innocent look on your face.
"You're really looking to get it tonight, aren't you?" Bradley replied, dumping everything next to where Noah was burying Nat's legs in the sand. You looked so pleased with yourself, and he thought about the ring that he had moved to the pocket of his dress whites that he'd picked up from the dry cleaner. They were hanging in the back of the closet, and he figured you'd have no reason to look there. Before you could run off, he pulled you in for a tight hug and said, "Stay out of trouble. Be a good girl. And I'll give you anything you want later."
Your lips met his ear, nudging his aviators crooked. "I love you." His fingers skimmed your skimpy bathing suit bottom as you joined Noah who had Nat covered to her thighs. 
Javy was trying his best to casually toss a football around with Mickey and Mav, but he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. It was a good thing Bradley was absolutely convinced he was looking at Nat and not you, otherwise he'd have a problem. He left you next to the pile of everything you packed, intending to simply join the little football scrimmage that was going on, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder. 
"Hey, that's really nice, Bradshaw," Jake drawled. "You brought the family today. The little ball and chain, and the big ball and chain."
Bradley hooked his sunglasses with his index finger and dragged them roughly down his nose. "Funny," he said without emotion. "But you weren't calling her a ball and chain back in April when you tried to hook up with her in my kitchen."
Jake hooted with laughter, and it made Bradley's skin crawl. He was such a dick most of the time, and it was always intentional. "There's a difference between hitting a tight pussy and inviting it to live with you. I know the difference. You don't seem to. I'm surprised you didn't bring your dog along, too."
Bradley snapped. "What the fuck is your problem, man?" 
Jake met his gaze, and Bradley was reminded without a doubt that Jake would love to get inside your little bikini bottoms just to say he could. "I don't have a problem, but it looks like you do." He jerked his chin toward the volleyball nets, and Bradley turned to investigate. You were standing there, holding hands with Noah while you talked to a guy with blond hair. Upon further inspection, Bradley realized it was your ex boyfriend, Greyson.
--------------------------
Well, well, well. We actually hate you, Grey. If Daddy and Princess can manage to make it to their sexy night home alone, what would you like to read about? And I really hope that ring is well hidden until Daddy comes up with a plan. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 46
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666 notes · View notes
blue-mood-blue · 4 months
Text
I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.
And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.
What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?
Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.
Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”
They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.
Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.
Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.
It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.
(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)
Death feels very real after that.
The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.
The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.
(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)
Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?
(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)
Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...
…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…
And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.
“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.
Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.
(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)
“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”
Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”
766 notes · View notes
delulujuls · 1 month
Text
i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18
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am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me
he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him
summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way
warnings: none
pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll
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The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.
Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.
"Here, you can have mine."
The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.
"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."
"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."
The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.
"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."
"Really?"
While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.
"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"
"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."
The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.
"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."
She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.
"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"
Y/N scoffed and shook her head.
"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."
"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."
She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.
"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"
"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."
Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.
"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."
She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.
"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."
"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."
She sighed and shook her head.
"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."
"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"
He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.
"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"
"I'll try to meet that condition."
Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.
At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.
Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.
However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.
"There she is."
Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.
"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.
"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."
"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"
She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.
"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."
Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."
Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.
"Lance..."
Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.
"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."
He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Open the gift."
He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.
She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.
"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"
Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."
Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.
"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."
Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.
"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."
Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.
The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.
Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.
"Here you are."
The girl jumped, hearing his voice.
"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."
"I needed some fresh air."
Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.
"I can't believe we got tipsy."
Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.
"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."
Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.
"I'm glad you came."
"I'm glad you invited me."
"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."
Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."
Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."
The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
"You could be my girlfriend."
Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.
"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."
The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.
"I love you, Lance."
With love.
869 notes · View notes
entitled-fangirl · 2 months
Text
Two idiots in love (P2)
Joel Miller x anemic!reader
Summary: the three survivors try to find the supplies they left behind. The two lovebirds bond over the reader passing out.
Words: 2,135
Warnings: anemia, cursing, passing out, lots of bickering
Part 1 and Part 3
Masterlist <3
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............................................................
She woke up long after Joel had gotten up. 
So, she didn't see the way he held her in their sleep. Or the slight smile on his face as he slumbered.
But Ellie did.
Now, the three were packed up, and ready to continue their journey.
They walked along a gravel road, gravel crunching under their feet being the only sound they could hear in the forest. 
"Have you gone this way a lot? No infected?" Ellie asked.
Joel was in a much calmer mood today, his voice soft, but his body still very much tense, his eyes scanning the area constantly, "Not a lot, no."
"What are you looking for?"
"People."
More silence. 
Joel started to notice Y/N taking smaller, slower steps. Her lungs expanded more than his. It was hard to keep up with his long strides, regardless of her illness. Joel was very long-legged, and the two girls were very much not.
But Joel's head turned to see her slowly fall behind. 
He looked forward once more, his steps naturally slowing until she was next to him again.
"Oh.... thank you, Joel."
He turned, "…You doing alright?"
She nodded, "Yeah, I feel okay."
He rests a hand on her shoulder, "Then don't thank me."
More silence.
The silence could be nice, if you made it so. Y/N certainly enjoyed it. It meant she could focus on her breathing and not the constant bickering of the teen and her partner.
Her smuggling partner.
But, as usual, Ellie broke the silence again.
"Are Bill and Frank nice?"
Y/N nodded her head, Joel answering, "Frank is."
"How'd you get that scar on your head?"
Joel let out a sigh, causing Ellie to smile.
"What? Is it something lame? Like you feel down the stairs or something?"
Y/N looked over Joel, "Ellie…"
"I didn't fall down any stairs."
"Okay, so what then?"
"Someone shot at me and missed."
"See, that's cool. You shoot back?"
"Yeah."
"You get him?"
Another sigh comes from Joel, "No, I missed, too. It happens more often than you think."
"'Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?"
Y/N stepped in again, "Hey…"
Joel looked over to Ellie with a glare, "…in general."
More silence.
Y/N got a smirk on her face, "Be glad that they both missed."
Ellie immediately moved to walk by Y/N instead, interested in her story, "…what? What do you mean?"
Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, the other hand kept on his gun holster. 
Y/N leaned in towards Ellie, "…why do YOU think, Ellie? You're a smart girl."
Ellie thought for a while before a huge grin appeared on her face. She pointed back and forth between Y/N and Joel, "You mean… you two… and that…?"
Y/N let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, we did."
"That's so fucking cool! See, Joel? That's not lame, that's cool as fuck!"
Joel grunted, his voice dropping slightly, "I'm glad me almost fucking killing her is cool to you, kid."
Y/N grabbed Ellie's arm, giving her a small wink.
Ellie noticed the two different guns in Joel's holsters. "With it just being us, I was thinking I should pro-"
"No."
Y/N let out a breath, holding back a laugh. Laughing would slow her down- slow them all down. She was the weak link. She couldn't let things get the best of her. 
More silence.
"Cumberland Farms."
The three approached an old convenience store, the building covered in vines and broken cement.
Joel turned around to look at Ellie, "Hang back a minute. I gotta grab some stuff I stashed."
Ellie's head tilted, "Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?"
"You ask a lot of goddamn questions."
"Yes, yes I do."
Joel opened the door, poking his head in to check for people.
"…so…. Are you gonna answer me or what?"
Joel sighs again, "We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear, which I currently am 'cause-"
"-No way!"
Ellie immediately runs in, approaching a mortal combat arcade machine. "You ever play this one? I had a friend who knew everything about this game."
Joel tugged at Y/N, pulling her to one of the tables, pushing on it to ensure it was strong, "Sit. You need to rest."
She huffed, pulling her self up to sit on the table, her legs swinging as she watched the girl.
"…there's this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones! Oh, man."
The two girls turn their head when Joel kicks at a rack.
Ellie sighs, "You forgot where you put your stuff."
Joel looked up, "No, I'm just zeroing in on it. It's been a couple of years."
"Okay, well… I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything good."
"Trust me, it's all been picked over already."
Ellie's feet crunch over the glass on the ground, "Maybe, maybe not."
Joel pushes on one of the aisles against the wall.
Ellie moves further away from the two, "Is there anything bad in here?"
"Just you."
"Getting funnier."
Ellie then goes to the back part of the store, away from Joel and Y/N.
Joel mutters a quiet, "Fuck."
Y/N pushes herself off the table, moving towards him to help.
He looks up, "No. No, you go back. I'm fine."
She sighs, "I don't think you are."
He stands straight, his hands on his hips, "Alright, then, sweet girl, tell me where the fuck we left it?"
"I don't know, Joel. Ju-"
Ellie zones out on their bickering as she starts to get further and further away from them. She pushes on a door, opening it with a loud creak. She kicks at the stuff on the ground, inspecting it with her shoe. Eventually, she finds a trap door. She moves everything off it, opening it slowly.
She hears Joel's voice from the front of the store, "You all right back there?"
She jumps, "Uh, yep!"
She hears the two begin to bicker quietly again, prompting her to continue.
Y/N let out a light sigh, "Listen, Joel. It's been years. The odds that no one has taken our stuff isn't realistic. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"
He shakes his head, not even looking at her, "no. That's not an option."
"Not an option? Joel, everything we're doing now is a fucking option! It's not gonna be here!"
"IT HAS TO BE!"
She steps back from him slightly, an involuntary breath leaving her throat. Her breathing picks up, hurting her lungs. 
His eyes soften at her reaction, his voice dropping again, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I… Fuck."
She puts some distance between them, giving them both room to breathe. "I… what…. What's so important about what you left here, Joel?"
He looks up towards the ceiling, his hands moving back to his hips as he slowed his breathing. His voice became a low whisper, "…it's…. It's for you… your medication…"
Her face became one of surprise, "…what?"
"When… when we left stuff here… I left some of your medication because I knew… fuck, I KNEW something like this would happen and you'd need it."
She was speechless. He came here for her. To get her more medication. "…uh… thank you…"
He nodded, "Don't thank me, honey. Don't thank me yet."
But that moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of an infected's scratchy growl.
The two turned their head towards the noise. 
Ellie.
Joel immediately turned to Y/N, "You're gonna stay here."
She grimaced, but listened anyway.
He pulled out his knife, walking toward where he last saw the girl go. "Ellie…?"
She quickly came through the doorway, "Picked over, my ass."
A breath of relief came from both adults.
"Holy shit!"
The two turned to the hill Ellie was looking at, a plane crash's remains laid there, scattered over the land.
"You fly in one of those?"
Joel shrugged, "Few time, sure."
"So lucky."
"Didn't feel like it at the time. Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich."
Y/N let out a laugh, Joel turning to her, "What, sweetheart? You find that funny?"
"Fuck yeah, I do."
He felt a smile grow on his face, "Jesus, you're something else."
Ellie jumped back in, "Dude, you got to go up in the sky."
Joel turned back to the crash, "Yeah, well, so did they."
A silence fell over them before Joel grabbed Y/N's wrist, pulling her with him. And they began the grueling walk again.
A little while later, Joel puts a hand out in front of both girls, stopping them, "We'll cut across the woods here."
Ellie tilted her head, "Isn't the road easier?"
"Yeah, it's just- There's stuff up there you shouldn't see."
"Well, now I want to."
"I don't want you to."
Ellie began to walk forward, Joel following, "Serious. Ellie."
"You're too honest, man."
Y/N sighed, starting to walk behind them, "Jesus, you two…"
Then she stopped. 
She was losing her vision, "Oh, fuck."
Joel turned immediately, "Hey. Ellie, stop. Sweetheart?"
Y/N brought a hand up to her head, as if it could stop the black clouding her vision.
Joel watched with a worried look in his eye, "You alright?"
She looked up, "I… I don't know…"
She fell to her knees.
"Oh Fuck!" Joel ran to her quickly, squatting down next to her.
Ellie watched the two from afar, not sure how to help.
"Sweetheart. You gotta lay down. C'mon. Lay down."
Y/N let out a groan, not wanting to move in fear of making things worse.
Ellie began to walk towards them, "what's going on? Is she gonna die?"
Joel's voice turned to stone, "SHE'S NOT GONNA FUCKING DIE!"
Ellie stopped walking, deciding to give them privacy.
Joel let out a sigh, his focus entirely on Y/N, "You gotta lay down, Sweetheart."
She sighed, "….help me… please."
Joel didn't need to be asked twice. 
He immediately shrugged off his jacket, getting his plan in motion.
He moved behind her, pushing her torso backwards towards him. He played his jacket on the ground in front of him, right where her back would meet the ground. 
He pulled her hair to the side, letting her head rest on his leg. 
"Alright, honey. How do you feel?"
"I… can't see… anything…"
He sighed, "that's alright. You need to sleep?"
She shook her head, but stopped seeing as it made things worse, "No… I….I'm…. Fine..." She was slowly losing consciousness.
"Shit. Shh…. Just.... Let it happen…."
He held her face with one hand, the other still resting on the gun on his hip in case of an emergency.
Half an hour later, her eyes opened to see Joel hadn't moved since she had passed out. One hand still held her jaw, his thumb brushing her skin lightly, but his other had moved to her hair, lightly playing with it. 
She saw Joel give a relieved look before his hands disappeared from her completely. "Oh, thank god. How you feeling, Sweetheart?"
She let out a groan, "achy."
He smiled, "Well, do we need to stop?"
She shook her head, "No. I can do this."
She sat up slowly, letting her body adjust to the feeling. Joel stood up, moving in front of her. He then held out a hand, offering to help her up.
She took it, of course. His other arm snaked around her waist for stability. When he decided she was stable enough, his moved his hands back, letting her adjust the rest of the way herself. 
She leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "…thank you."
He felt a little color come to his cheeks, "Don't thank-"
"Take my fucking gratitude for once, Joel."
He laughed, "Alright. Just this once. You're welcome."
Her head immediately looked around, trying to find Ellie.
She was not too far, her famous shit eating grin on her face. 
Joel knew he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Alright. Get up, Ellie. We go at Y/N's speed, got that?"
Ellie nodded, mumbling under her breath, "Yeah, you do everything her way, don'tcha?"
His head turned, "What the fuck did you just say?"
Her eyes shuffled between the two, "Nothing, sir."
He huffed, beginning to let Y/N take the lead on their walk. 
Ellie caught up with Y/N, "Say… you think you can tell me that story?"
Y/N's eyebrows furrowed, "…what story?"
"The one where you almost shot Joel."
She laughed, "Yeah… yeah, I can do that."
They heard Joel's voice behind them, "Hey. Watch it."
They giggled, continuing their journey with a smile.
..........................................................
part 3
619 notes · View notes
macfrog · 10 months
Text
moneyball cowboy like me chapter four
part iv of dbf!joel is yours!!! check out my masterlist to find the first three chapters for all your dbf needs. as always, thank you all so much for all the love n support. you guys make writing this series so much fun!! 🤍 i lowkey don't know whether or not i hate this chapter but i had to write it once the idea was in my head 🤷‍♀️ enJOY
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pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader
summary: when joel double-books you and your dad, you decide to teach him a lesson
warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (f receiving), praise kink, lotsa teasing, lil bit of bratty reader, lil bit of dom!joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing
word count: 4.2k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him. He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap. “I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.
How slutty is too slutty? When you’re going over to your dad’s best friend’s to…Well, you’re not quite sure what yet. You’ve picked out a short blue summer dress, strappy back, with black lace panties underneath. If you’re looking, and the light is right, you can see them through the blue fabric.
Joel would, you know that much. That’s all you really care about.
You’re putting earrings on in the mirror when your dad knocks and edges into your room.
“Where you headed, kiddo?”
“Just out for a drink with Sam. Said we’d have a catch-up at the barbecue, so.”
He narrows his eyes.
“It’s not a date.”
“Hey,” he lifts his hands, “I didn’t say anything. When will you be home?”
“Dunno. Why?”
“I’ll be at Joel’s, so remember your key. Just in case.”
Excuse me? Did he just say –
“Joel’s?”
He nods, sitting down on your bed behind you. You stare at him in the mirror.
“What’s happening at Joel’s?”
“Rangers game. He’s having Bill and Hank and me.”
Just then, your phone buzzes. You subtly lean over and catch a glimpse of the screen before it fades to black again.
Joel: Call me when you’re alone. ASAP
You roll your eyes and let out a low sigh.
“Can you give me a sec, Dad? I think I wanna change my outfit.”
“Sure. I’ll give you a holler when I’m leavin’.”
He shuts your door behind him and you wait until you hear his footsteps recede to call Joel.
“Hey, baby, listen, I’m gonna have to raincheck.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Something’s come up.”
“Right.” Your tone is muted and flat. On purpose. Joel notices.
“So…we’ll figure somethin’ out, right? You workin’ much this week?”
You scoff. “I dunno, depends on when the next Rangers game is, doesn’t it?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath. “Kid, I’m so sorry–”
“Here I am,” you throw your arms up and march around your room, though you know he can’t see you, “getting ready, putting together the sluttiest-within-reason outfit I own, and all the while you’re gearing up to host my dad and your buddies.”
“…You’re wearing somethin’ slutty?”
“Not anymore,” you huff as you pull the dress off. “I’m changin’ into sweatpants.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’d still be into you in the sweatpants.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs. “I will have them out and gone as soon as the game’s done, and then you can come over, okay? Sound good?”
“And you’ll make it up to me?”
“I intend to.”
“’kay. Just know you’re gonna pay for this.”
He says through a chuckle, “See you later, baby.”
You hang up.
You rake through your drawers for something a little more comfortable to wear, settling for a floral skirt and off-shoulder top. Equal parts casual and suggestive. Perfect for payback.
Joel knows he’s gonna pay. He just doesn’t know when.
“Hey, hon, that’s me headin!” your dad calls up the stairs.
“Wait up!” you reply, grabbing your shoes and hopping out of your room. “I’m comin’.”
“You want a ride to Frank’s?”
“No, I’m coming to Joel’s.”
He watches you struggle down the stairs with one shoe on, brows furrowed. “You wanna…come watch the game? What about Sam?”
“He just cancelled.”
Your dad looks tickled. “Cheatin’ on ya, is he?”
You stand straight, finally having pulled your shoe on, and punch his arm. “I’ll be in the car.”
“Alright…” he mumbles, following you out.
----------
Joel’s face when he opens the door is a picture you never want to forget.
“Hey– I – did not know you were comin’.” He ushers you both in.
“Neither did I,” your dad replies, “she decided last minute. Blew off some date with that boy from Frank’s for this.”
“It was not a…” Your sentence ends with a sigh as you follow him inside, looking up at Joel as you pass. He knows damn well you didn’t even have plans with Sam, never mind a date.
“Big Rangers fan?” Joel calls from behind as the three of you head for the living room.
“Yes,” you reply, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.
“Big enough to schedule a date during the game?”
“I’m sure I’m not the first to do that,” you hiss through your teeth, and he gives you an amused grin.
Bill and Hank haven’t arrived yet. Your dad sits in his usual recliner seat and sighs. You and Joel share the couch, where he turns on you to interrogate you more.
“So, what’s with the change of heart?”
“I, uh…I didn’t know it was this game.”
“And what game’s that?”
“The…Uh…You know. Rangers.” You shrug.
“Name three players.”
“That’s sexist,” you reply, pointing a finger at him.
Your dad cackles, rocking back and forth in the chair. “Beers, Joel?”
“In the fridge,” Joel answers, eyes still on you.
Your dad, who’d be oblivious to a hurricane outside if it weren’t for the warnings on the news, waltzes past the pair of you, locked in a death stare.
“You’re here to cause tr–”
“Trouble, yeah.” You flash him an innocent smile. “You caused it first.”
The doorbell rings and Joel doesn’t move, eyes still dancing all over your body; your shoulders, your hips, your thighs peeking through the slit in your skirt.
Your dad calls through from the kitchen, offering to get it, and you hear the rumble of Hank and Bill’s voices.
When Joel’s eyes meander back up to meet yours, a dangerous look in them, he leans in close. You tilt your jaw to allow him access, but his lips never touch you.
Breath hot on your skin, his Southern drawl whispers, “I started it, and I know how to finish it, pretty girl.”
Then he stands and heads to the hallway to meet his guests. You clamp your legs together.
Bill roars your name when he sees you. “I didn’t fuckin’ know you liked the Rangers!”
You stand and nervously accept his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you so tight it takes your breath away. Joel stifles a laugh in the doorway.
“I just wanted to be around for all the fun,” you almost gasp when he releases you.
Hank is older and smaller in frame, and he gives your hand a little squeeze as he passes by to the couch. “We’re up for it tonight, kiddo,” he smiles sweetly, “it’ll be a good’un.”
“Bill, beer? Hank?”
“Bourbon for me, Joel. Brought my own bottle.” He hands it over.
As your dad squeezes past to join his friends, Joel clicks his fingers at you and jerks his head toward the kitchen. Your jaw falls open with mock offense.
“Dick,” you whisper as you pass.
“Needed help from my waitress with the drinks,” Joel murmurs with a smirk, the two of you heading through.
He opens the fridge and reaches up to grab three beers – Buds, you notice – from the top shelf. His shirt lifts a sliver from the waistband of his jeans, exposing the tan skin beneath.
Your head cocks as you stare at him, gripping onto the worktop, probably more to stop yourself from approaching him than to look casual. But when Joel turns back around, he reads you like an open book.
“Quit starin’,” he mutters, nudging you to shift out of his way.
You don’t budge, so Joel shifts further up the counter. When you slide up to follow him, pinning yourself between him and the marble surface, he scoffs.
“Stop that,” he whispers.
“Stop what? Thought you knew how to finish this?”
“Alright,” he hums, arms reaching around yours to crack the beers open in front of you. Your back is flush against his chest.
“Then,” he mumbles, chin hooked over your shoulder, “we take this,” he reaches for a whiskey glass and Hank’s bottle of Yellow Rose, sliding them over in front of you with one hand. He takes your hands in his, using you like a puppet to pour Hank’s drink.
You can’t help but giggle as his stubble grazes your cheek.
When you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, you feel an unmistakable swell behind your ass. Joel’s breath falters for a brief second.
You want more. To be frank, you’d take him here and now if it weren’t for his buddies in the next room. But this isn’t about what you want right now. Not yet.
You push off the counter gently, your ass touching Joel’s crotch, grinding into him. His jaw tightens, teeth lock together, and he emits a low growl. He doesn’t move; just stands with his arms around you, hands gripping the worktop, holding you in place as your hips rut on his hardening bulge.
The TV is switched on and you hear a familiar commentator’s voice.
“Joel!” your dad yells from the living room.
“Had your fun?” he grumbles in your ear.
You shake your head. “Not yet.”
He moves his arms then, letting you go, taking his and Bill’s beers and Hank’s bourbon, and backs away. His eyebrows are cocked, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.
You watch him until he disappears into the living room, and snap out of your daze. I’m not here to be wooed by him.
I’m here to make him finish what he started.
When you enter the living room, beer in hand, all four men are literally on the edge of their seats, as far forward as they can get without actually sliding off of Joel’s couch.
You notice a space between Joel and Hank, and slip between the coffee table and Hank’s legs. He moves back to allow you the space to squeeze by and slot in on Joel’s left.
As you fall down into your seat, all eyes glued on the TV screen, your right hand comes up to balance yourself – Who are you kidding? – on Joel’s thigh. The inside of Joel’s thigh.
His head jerks down to stare at your fingers, locked around his leg. Checking nobody’s looking, you move it slightly upward. Closer to his –
“What are you doin’?” he whispers through gritted teeth, low enough that the other men don’t hear.
“Watchin’ the game,” you reply, innocent and sweeter than sugar.
His free hand takes hold of yours and slides it off of his thigh without looking, eyes always on the room around him.
You breathe a laugh as he readjusts in his seat, sitting up awkwardly straight and keeping his legs a safe distance away, parallel to yours.
You’re just getting started.
----------
Let’s be frank about it: baseball is fucking boring.
Well, let’s rephrase. It’s not that you don’t like watching it; you’re sure that, in more appropriate circumstances – relaxing on a lazy Sunday, or at an actual game, where the atmosphere buzzes with excitement – you could enjoy it.
But right now, you’re sat with your dad’s buddies, an ache between your legs that you can’t fix, and the only person who can fix it, is refusing to even look at you.
Given the situation at hand, you can’t really fault him for that. But you’re still a little mad.
When they roar at the screen for what feels like the thousandth time, you decide to take yourself for a quiet jaunt to the kitchen.
“You got snacks?” you ask Joel.
“Cupboard above the microwave,” he replies, gaze locked on the game.
You saunter out of the living room, finishing the dregs of your beer, and place the bottle in Joel’s sink.
Reaching up to search his cupboards, you find one bag of Cheetos and another bag of pretzels. You toss them both on the counter, and they land a little bit away from Hank’s bottle of bourbon.
You pick it up, reading the label. You’ve never really been much of a whiskey drinker, but you’re bored, and it’s here, so you may as well.
You pour a little into the bottom of a glass and lift it to your lips, giving it a good sniff before you take a sip. Your face screws up immediately, swallowing just to get the liquid off of your tongue, feeling it burn its way down your throat.
“You okay in there, kiddo?” your dad calls, hearing your coughing, and you splutter a “Yep!” in response.
Would it taste better with ice, you think? Maybe if you could get used to it, it wouldn’t be that bad. You amble over to Joel’s refrigerator and haul the freezer door open, in search of ice cubes, but finding something even better.
You lift the box, sliding one of them out and unwrapping it. When you knock the freezer door closed with your hip, you strut through to the living room and stand behind the couch in the doorway.
No one notices you sneak in; they’re all waving their fists and yelling curses at the TV.
“What’s goin’ on?”
Four heads turn to give you an update on the game, and three hastily turn back when the crowd suddenly begins cheering.
One head, though, whips straight back to you. Stood in his living room doorway. Sucking on a popsicle.
You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him.
He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap.
“I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.
“Yeah? Good.” He twists back around to face the television, a hand running across his jaw. He shuffles in his seat again, just as awkward as he is uncomfortable.
You let out a quiet giggle and meander gleefully back through to the kitchen.
Not long after, you’re at Joel’s counter eating some of his pretzels when he and your dad stalk through, followed by Bill and Hank.
“Game over?”
“No, kid,” Bill chuckles, “seventh-inning stretch.” He yanks open Joel’s refrigerator and takes three more beers, passing them around.
He perches on a bar stool next to you, bringing a hand down on your back – loving, of course, but in typical Bill nature, kinda painful.
“We ain’t doin’ too bad,” Hank muses as he pours another whiskey, and your dad nods silently.
Your eyes flit between the men, now deep in conversation about the game, then land on Joel, leaning against the doorframe sipping on a beer, his eyes on you.
You lean over the counter, popping your ass out, and make him watch as you open your mouth, extend your tongue, and place a salty pretzel on it, closing your lips around your finger and licking it clean.
His expression never changes. Just watches like you want him to, beer bottle clutched in his fist.
“I’ll take these.” Bill’s hand swings across and scoops up the Cheetos, and before you know it, they’re making their way back out of the kitchen.
Joel’s eyes bore into yours as your dad, Bill, and Hank filter out past him. He’s mad, you can tell that much. He paces over to you.
“Knock. It. Off.” His voice is a low growl.
You shake your head. “No can do.”
He sighs, gripping your wrist. Before you can take a breath, he’s dragging you out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he makes a right and almost shoves you down the dim hallway.
“The hell is your game?” he hisses when you’re out of earshot of the others.
“Having fun, what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to keep everybody from seeing the fun you’re having. Touchin’ and rubbin’, lookin’ at me like that in front of everyone. The damn popsicle.”
“You liked that, huh?”
“You gettin’ off on this?”
“Mhm.” You nod a little too desperately.
“Well, quit it. When we’re alone, fine, do whatever you want. Not when your dad’s watchin’.”
“My dad ain’t seeing none of it and you know it.”
He runs a hand through his hair and brings it down over his eyes. Seeing him this stressed and undone over you, over what you’re doing to him, sends pulses of electricity through your body.
“What the hell am I gonna do with you, girl?”
You shrug. “Maybe you should punish me.”
“Maybe I fuckin’ should,” he spits, turning away from you.
As if just hearing what you said, he turns on his heel, staring you down with an expression you read to mean one thing: he’s fucking considering it.
“Maybe I fuckin’ should…” he whispers again.
You try to keep your cool façade up, but the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark, jaw clenched, towering over you and cornering you against the wall, has you so wet and needy that you can’t pretend anymore.
“Joel…”
Whatever you were about to say is cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Joel reacts before you do, reaching behind you to pull a door open and backing you into his linen closet, quietly following you in and closing the door again.
There are just inches between you both, pressed chest to chest in the tiny confines of the closet. Joel’s head tilts and listens for Hank’s figure, stumbling back and forth across the landing in pursuit of the bathroom.
“Where’d you say it was, Bill?” he calls downstairs.
“First door on the right, dumbass!” Bill’s voice shouts back up.
Joel’s fist suddenly wraps around the handle, his eyes glued to the wall above your head, listening intently. He’s making sure Hank doesn’t try the wrong door.
Which, of course, he inevitably does.
It rattles some, but Joel’s grip stops the handle from turning. He glares up, shaking his head, mouthing profanities. First door, you fuckin’ moron. You stifle a laugh behind both hands.
“Hank!” your dad’s voice shouts from downstairs. “Not that one, idiot, the one next to it!”
Finally, the door stops trembling.
“I see it now, sure enough,” Hank mumbles, and you both listen to him spill into the bathroom next door.
You let out the breath you’ve been holding in your chest. Joel lifts his hand off of the door handle and places it around your jaw.
“You’re gonna be real quiet, alright?”
He’s speaking so low and so quiet that your eyes track his lips to read the words he’s saying.
“Gonna do what I say and keep that pretty little mouth shut.”
You squirm under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders, desperate for him to kiss you.
Instead, he holds your jaw tight and forces you to look at him.
“Say it.”
“I’ll be quiet,” you breathe, “I’ll be good. Just fucking touch me.”
He runs his tongue along your bottom lip then, asking it to part, and when it does, pulls you roughly against him, free hand dropping to your ass. His tongue battles strong against yours, bittersweet with the taste of beer.
You feel yourself intoxicated with the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling as his hips purposefully rut into yours. You want him to mark you again, give you something to hide, something to make half-assed excuses over when people spot it. You want him to make you his.
You moan into his mouth, hands finding his hair, and he grips you tighter.
“Shut – the fuck – up,” he snaps between kisses.
He pauses only to listen to Hank tumble out of the bathroom and back downstairs, then gives you a peck on the lips with a cocky smile.
Suddenly he’s at your neck, lips kissing, tongue licking, teeth grazing, and then he’s making his way down, over your breasts, breath hot and unsteady on your heaving chest.
You can hear the booming laughter of the men downstairs. Their shouts and calls at the television. It all echoes up the stairs, floating in under the slit of light from the hallway outside.
Joel’s on his knees now, placing delicate kisses up your thighs. His hands pull your weight onto his shoulders, fingers taking hold of the hem of your skirt and hiking it up. When he reaches your underwear, he looks up, a dark look in his eyes. A question.
“Quiet,” you mutter, nodding, and buck your hips toward him in attempt to hurry him the fuck up.
He smirks at your neediness and kisses you over the lacey fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping your lips. Joel’s eyebrows raise, waiting for you to make a sound. When you don’t, he pulls the fabric back.
He positions himself perfectly at your sex, pulling your thighs a little wider apart over his shoulders. Your head falls against the wall behind you, but your eyes stay locked on him, watching every little move he makes.
He starts by placing his lips against your clit gently, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s soft, warm, but with a hunger for more.
He sucks there for a minute, your hips rolling against his mouth, vision becoming clouded with stars in the darkness of the closet. Your hands tease his hair, gripping and pulling harder the more pressure he applies to your core, the closer he drags you to your high.
When he pulls away, a tiny gasp passes your lips. You expect him to get mad, punish you for making noise, but he just grins to himself and dives back in.
His tongue licks along your folds and you have to bite down on your sleeve this time. It’s no use, your moan breaks free and fills the tiny space, but Joel’s groaning too as he tastes you for the second time in three days.
“So – fucking – good for me, darlin’,” he whispers when he comes up for air, then gets right back to it.
His fingers grip your thighs so tight it almost hurts, keeping you steady. His head drops a little lower, and you feel his breath across your lips.
“Joel,” you moan, and he looks up. “Need your tongue.”
When he drags it between your folds and dips ever so slightly inside you, your back arches, shoulders digging into the wall. You’re doing everything not to scream, his tongue lapping you up, nose rubbing against your clit, but you’re nearing closer and closer to your orgasm.
“Keep – going – fuck, Joel,” you breathe, eyes screwed shut, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer against you.
“Shh,” he’s cooing now against your cunt, pulling a hand under your thigh to insert two fingers as his tongue massages your clit. “I know, I know,” he says, lifting his chin. “Poor baby just wanted some attention, huh?”
You smile, eyes closing in bliss as his tongue reattaches to your core. You whimper his name as your walls start to close around him.
Just then, a roar lets out from the living room, and the coil snaps. You cry out, moaning Joel’s name as you cum on his tongue, your sweet noises drowned out by the thunderous cheers from downstairs.
You swear you feel Joel smirk against your wetness as you unravel for him.
You’re panting, hands still clinging onto his hair for stability, as he pulls away from your cunt and leans back. He gently rolls your thighs off of his shoulders and helps you to stand, before his tall figure straightens up in front of you.
You instinctively grab his shirt and pull his lips against yours, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue. Joel’s breath hitches when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you pull away, releasing it.
“I fucking love this,” you mutter, and he laughs.
“Yeah? I just missed a whole inning ‘cause of you.”
“Worth it.” You smile as he opens the door, checking the coast is clear before letting you out first.
“Where the hell you two been?” your dad asks as you both rejoin the group.
“Missed one hell of a play, you pair.” Hank raises his glass toward the television.
You sit a little distance from each other on the couch, your needs fully satisfied, and Joel clears his throat.
“Was showin’ her my new six-string.”
You notice him out of the corner of your eye licking his lips. Fucker.
Your dad shakes his head with a laugh, spinning the recliner back to face the screen. “First baseball, now guitars. What has gotten into you, lately, hon?”
“Hey, Joel?” Bill sits forward, leaning over the coffee table to Joel, who lifts his head in reply. “You mind showin’ me that six-string after the game?”
You choke on your beer and Hank’s hand comes up to clap you on the back. “You alright, girl?”
“Maybe, maybe,” Joel replies, trying to ignore you, coughing and spluttering at his side.
With a few more good whacks from Hank and a clean sip of your drink, you recover just enough to join the conversation.
“It’s a really neat guitar, Bill.”
----------
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cottonconnielvr · 9 months
Note
can you write plug!connie but he yo baby daddy, love your work btw <3
WARNINGS ✩ — mom!reader(i got insane baby fever n i wanna be a stay at home mom so bad 😔), fluff, nothing honestlyyy
YOU woke up to the blaring sun in your face, causing you to scrunch your eyes up. It was 8:45 am. The usual time you wake up on the weekends. Yes the weekends. Being a stay at home mom, you were always up on your feet. Taking care of things at home while Connie took care of everything else.
Your body was locked in place from moving. Your daughter, Celeste, was wrapped around you from the back, squished between Connie who was facing you, his long arm wrapped around you both. You shook your head, assuming Celeste climbed in the bed in the middle of the night like she always does.
You slowly pried their arms off of you, leaving them quietly sleeping in bed. You headed to the bathroom, getting yourself ready for the day.
After a steamy shower and you’re 5-step skincare routine, you went to go make breakfast, deciding to make a standard breakfast.
Meanwhile, an hour and a half later, Celeste walked down the stairs, her teddy bear locked in her arms. The sound of Destiny’s Child filled her ears as she approached the kitchen island, struggling to lift her five year old body onto the chair.
“Morning mama, want some fruit?” Your daughter immediately smiled at the kiss pressed onto her forehead.
Celeste loves both of her parents, of course. Even as a five year old she knows all the stress you endure. But she’s never seen you cry, well she’s seen you cry over heels but that’s besides the point. She’s never seen either of her parents give up or argue. Even if she saw you upset at her dad, you always resolved the issue.You and Connie set your daughters standards very high.
“Yes pleaseee” She flashes a smile, very similar to Connie’s.
After preparing breakfast, you finally prepared the plates. “Mommy can I give daddy breakfast” Celeste speaks from across the island, now standing. But you can only see her puff of hair as it shows over the island.
You nod, grabbing a tray from the pantry and putting Connie’s plate on it. “Be careful” You warned, handing her the tray.
“Of courseeee” She dragged out. Man was she obsessed with that word.
Celeste carefully walked up the stairs, walking very slowly and steadily. She made sure his fruit wasn’t touching his bacon and his bacon didn’t touch the whipped cream on his waffles, just how he likes it.
“Daddyyy it’s morning time” She sung out as she stood next to the bed. Connie stirred in the bed, feeling it empty.
He looked over to his daughter, seeing her hold a tray with food and a huge smile on her face. Always smiling.. “Thank you babygirl” He grabbed the tray from her, immediately digging in. “Where’s your mom?” Connie asked Celeste as she climbed into bed beside him, stealing a piece of bacon from Connie’s plate , earning a side eye.
“She’s probably in the garden now but like um..um..are we still going to the mall today?” She took her time, smacking her teeth multiple times.
Connie shook his head at the little girl, “You are just like your mom mhm”
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“DONT step on my shoes. My dad bought them and they’re custom made.” Celeste sassily crossed her arms over her chest, yelling at her distant “cousins”.
You and Connie decided to stop by the cookout Ony was throwing, Connie doing a couple of drops as well. There were kids there so nothing crazy would happen, Connie trusted his best guys with his two favorite girls so he felt okay with leaving.
“Oh yeah? My dad is like the biggest strongiest coolest ever!” One of the kids of a family friend argued. “Strongiest isn’t even a word” Celeste rolled her eyes. “That’s why my dad gave me this!” Celeste pulled out an one hundred dollar bill out of her pocket, causing the kids the gasp.
“Woah she’s like rich” One boy said from his spot on the floor. Celeste smiled, stuffing it back into her pocket. “Yeah so don’t act like I don’t have motion!” Celeste copied the word that she always heard her dad say around her.
Truth be told, Celeste was a bit….egotistical. I mean come on Connie Springer is her father. To her parents she’s an angel but once she’s around kids her age, she’s talking about how big the Eiffel tower really is and how clear the water is in Fiji.
She’s a spoiled brat, just like you, in every single way.
After playing for hours, Celeste dramatically laid across your lap. “When is dad coming back” Just then she jumped up, seeing the sight of her father.
“Hi daddy!” He lifted her up into the air before just holding her on the side of his waist. “Hey princess, you have fun?” She hummed, nodding her head before he placed her down.
“Hi A-armin” Celeste waved while looking up, her face growing hot. Armin was Celeste’s first crush. “Hey little one” Armin smiled down at the child, patting her head before handing her a $5 bill. “I hear the ice cream truck, why don’t you get yourself something”
Celeste couldn’t stop her smile, her kiddy crush feeling much more like true love. She ignored her fathers scowl and hugged the blonde’s legs before running off to the front yard with Onyankopon and a group of kids.
“Calm down boy, it’s just a silly little crush” You walked over to Connie, handing him your cup to sip out of. Your hand went around his waist, pulling him into a side hug.
“She’s only five. She doesn’t need any crushes, especially on Armin” Armin jerks his head back at the emphasis on his name.
“Acting like i’m ugly or something” He shook his head before greeting some other people. “Y’know she thinks he looks like a disney prince or something. Anyways how was your run?” You walk infront of Connie, grabbing his hand. He trailed behind you with the cup still in his hand. His eyes were glued to your butt in the skin tight sundress. “Hm baby?” You ask completely unaware. The weather was breezy and dawn had settled in, painting the sky purple and blue.
“Y’know I still want a son as well?” Connie completely ignored your question, his front pressing up against your back as his hand trailed down to your butt, lightly squeezing.
You jumped, gasping out “Connie there are innocent children here!”
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