#THEN i burnt the FUCK out of my lasagna i made for dinner

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

if there's one thing imma do, it's post something, hyperventilate for ten seconds until I make sure I posed it under the right request, and then feel like a fucking IDIOT because I double-check everything before I even post it 💀

[sundrop-writes]

if Mike fell asleep with you...

Word Count: 750

Horror Characters Masterlist

Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.

A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.

...

Mike was exhausted when he came in the door. 

He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way. 

You knew that sound anywhere. 

“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him. 

He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response. 

You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around. 

And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not. 

As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later. 

“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.” 

You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can. 

Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up. 

He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck. 

“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you. 

It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed. 

“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.” 

Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot. 

“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.” 

“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed. 

You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch. 

He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place. 

“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently. 

“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out. 

You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact. 

You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it. 

...

A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖

[steddieas-shegoes]

oh love, i'm terrified

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is terrifying'

rated t | 1,585 words | cw: negative self views | tags: falling in love, getting together, love confessions, sappy and fluffy

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

He thought he was being obvious.

He doesn't do this stuff for everyone else. He doesn't show up after work to hang out for no reason other than just wanting to be around the other person. He doesn't talk on the phone for three hours in the middle of the night to comfort the other person after nightmares. He doesn't fucking stargaze with anyone.

But with Eddie he does. Steve always goes out of his way for Eddie.

He knows why, and he feels like everyone can see it too: he loves him.

But somehow, Eddie doesn't see it, or chooses not to.

Even Dustin, oblivious to human emotion as anyone else Steve's ever met, pulled him aside after Hellfire one night --yes, he even attends Hellfire now-- to ask if he knew he was flirting with Eddie so much.

Robin and Nancy had called him out on two different occasions for touching him too much in public, but he hadn't even realized his hand had gone to his waist!

And Eddie still seemed clueless.

Or at least, most of the time he seemed clueless.

Sometimes, though, Steve could swear he looked at him in a specific way, a way that Steve would think is understanding and maybe even returned feelings. But he never said anything, never did anything out of the ordinary for Eddie.

Months of wondering what the hell he could do differently, months of being less and less subtle every day, months of showing how much he loved him without actually saying it.

All for Eddie to still be oblivious.

But not tonight,

Tonight, he was going to Eddie's to have dinner and watch a movie. Wayne was on a fishing trip with his buddies from work, and all the kids were at the same summer camp, probably torturing underpaid teenage counselors.

No interruptions were possible.

He could bring out all his moves, and if Eddie still didn't get it by the end of the night, maybe he could even use his words.

"Dinner's almost ready!" Eddie yelled from the kitchen as Steve let himself in. "I didn't burn anything!"

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. "Sounds like something someone who burnt dinner would say."

"I didn't! I mean one edge is a little crispy on the lasagna, but I think that's because our oven is older than Wayne. You think the government could've given us a better oven for my troubles, but apparently not," Eddie turned to Steve standing in the doorway. "You look...nice."

Steve always liked to look nice, but he'd decided to dress up a little bit tonight, try to make his intentions clear right from the start. His hair was done as usual, but he was wearing his khaki slacks instead of jeans and his nicest navy polo instead of the t-shirts he'd mostly been wearing outside of work. He even sprung for his watch that his dad gave him as a graduation gift. He hated to know how much money was wasted on it, but it did look nice.

"Thanks. You do too," Steve replied.

Eddie looked down at his own clothes and back up at Steve. "Dude, I'm wearing sweats and a t-shirt that has more holes than cloth. You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying. You always look best when you're comfy," Steve shrugged. "Need help with anything?"

Eddie shook his head. "Not unless you wanna grab beers from the fridge. I forgot to get some this afternoon so they're just Wayne's PBRs, but a cold beer's a good beer, right?"

"Right," Steve agreed, walking to the fridge to grab the beers.

Dinner went as dinner usually does, except they actually sat at the table this time instead of the couch. Eddie seemed surprised when Steve set his things down in front of the chair he only sat in to keep Eddie company while he planned for campaigns, but just silently joined him.

They talked and joked, they made themselves laugh so hard beer almost came out of Eddie's nose. It was perfect.

After, Steve started working on the dishes, Eddie standing by the counter watching.

He was quiet, which was unusual, especially when no one else was around to fill the silence.

"Everything okay, Eds?" Steve asked as he scrubbed a particularly difficult area on a fork.

"What? Oh. Yeah."

Steve turned to look at him, suddenly worried when he saw Eddie's face turned down to the floor. This wasn't them. They'd just had a nice dinner, and now Eddie was being...shy?

Now was his chance. He could say it. Robin would be proud of him for finally just doing it.

Hell, he'd be proud of himself for doing it.

But something seemed wrong, and the last thing Steve wanted was to turn a good night bad because he couldn't reign in his feelings for a bit.

He wiped his hands on the towel by the sink and turned fully towards Eddie.

"What's wrong?"

Eddie shook his head once, then sighed. "I kind of feel like I've been wined and dined tonight. And that's ridiculous because you're just one of my best friends, and you're straight, and it's all been in my head for months, but-"

"Woah. Wait." Steve interrupted. "You've been noticing that for months? And you didn't say anything?"

"Well, no. I didn't wanna ruin our friendship because I can't handle my own hopes getting up." Eddie leaned away from Steve further. "I know you don't mean it that way. I don't want you to change anything."

"Eds-"

"And if you do want to, that's fine! Whatever would make you comfortable. I just have to say it's feeling very 'I have romantic feelings' for you territory and I know you don't so."

"Eddie."

"I'm also not good at that though. No one's ever shown interest in me other than one girl in high school who ended up moving away a week later so I didn't even have to break her heart."

Steve crashed his lips to Eddie's, half hoping it would shut him up, and half hoping he would somehow keep rambling. He kind of loved watching him ramble.

It did shut him up. Even when Steve pulled away, Eddie's silence was deafening.

"Sorry. I should've asked if I could first, but I don't think you would have even heard me. Was that okay?" Steve asked.

"Why did you do that?" Eddie sounded heartbroken.

That's not what Steve wanted at all.

"I wanted to. I have wanted to."

"No you don't."

This was not going the way Steve had hoped for. "How would you know I don't?"

"Because I'm me! I'm just the dude who gets the good weed, and says funny shit, and cooks dinner sometimes. I'm not a girl Steve Harrington falls in love with, or even takes on a date. I'm not the type you build a relationship and future with. I'm just the guy who gets to watch everyone else do that. I'm not good for that."

"What the hell do you mean?" Steve was angry now. Who had convinced Eddie he couldn't have good things, couldn't be loved or love someone, couldn't be important? "You're Eddie Munson. You saved us all from an evil wizard dude and nearly died doing it. You're the guy who makes me a sandwich when I come over for Hellfire even though there's strict no eating during the campaign rules because you know I've been working all day and need to eat. You turn all my bad days good, and make my life better just because you're you."

"Steve-"

"My turn." Steve crowded him against the counter, hands cupping his cheeks and eyes boring into Eddie's. "I need you to understand something. I've been trying to show how much I care about you, how much I love you, for months, and I've been thinking I've just been terrible at it. I thought I truly did lose all my charm. I've been pulling all my moves out for you. I was starting to think maybe you just were trying to ignore it all to let me down easy, but it isn't that. It's because you don't see how fucking amazing you are, isn't it?"

Eddie's eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Because you are. You're incredible. Maybe the best person I've ever known other than Robin. I find excuses to be near you. I find reasons to talk to you. I didn't even have a nightmare the other night, I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm in love with you. Like, the real stupid, do anything for you even if it hurts me kind. And if you don't feel anything for me besides friendship, I'll leave right now and I'll do my best to get over it so we can be friends."

"And if I do?"

"If you do love me, then you should kiss me."

"I've never kissed anyone."

"That's not true. We kissed two minutes ago," Steve smirked, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'm scared," Eddie's whispered admittance nearly broke Steve's heart.

"Oh love, I'm terrified. Love is like that. But we've faced scarier things, haven't we?"

Eddie's soft lips against his own was the only answer he needed.

Love was terrifying, even for Steve, maybe especially for Steve, who was used to giving a lot more love than he received back. But as they kissed in Eddie's kitchen for seconds that turned to minutes, minutes that turned to hours, they got just a bit less scared.

[whispy-juniper]

I'm not a big Thanksgiving or Christmas fan (and i used to LOVE christmas) not just bc of the food but due to all the travelling my wife and I do between our family and the toxic atrocity that is my egg donor we have to visit. This year I just feel dread...

Big ass vent under the cut

The dogs are being babysat by my parents for a day as we visit my wife's parents. I hope they'll be fine I just always worry when someone else cares for them. They do have a dog of their own so it will be a big training session for my male dog, who LOVES all other dogs so much that he gets super excited and forgets pack manners... and thus cant take a hint to chill out and realize not all dogs enjoy being straight up tackled and rough housed before theres even a chance to sniff each other. Hes not aggressive AT ALL hes just hyper and dumb as a brick. My dad is confident he can work with them to get them to calm down and have manners. So I hope he can get a thought rolling in my dogs big empty head. I've been trying for 2 years and hes gotten better but it's still not great. My female dog is honestly totally fine I'm not worried about her.

But that's the most minor stress area.

Honestly visiting my wife's family is fine. Their holiday dinners always consist of a lot of healthy foods (wifes sister is vegetarian) and they're all nice so its really not so bad.

Then theres my parents. Well. My egg donor. My dad's fine for the most part. I'm happy they arent doing a turkey this year bc their turkey always tastes - and has the dryness of - sand. My mother is a terrible cook. Shes never been good. I swear shes got a phobia of the stove and uses the microwave for fucking everything. Also a phobia of all seasoning and sauces. And somehow everything is burnt or dry. I'm sorry I know that's bad to say but shes never been good and as shes gotten older it's gone from "not good" to "downright terrible".

My wife admitted to just taking small bites and putting the food in the back of her mouth and swallowing whole bc she cant stand to chew any of it. Honestly I do the same.

Last time we had breakfast there she made scrambled eggs and idk how you fuck up scrambled eggs so badly that my wife snuck hers onto my plate and then I snuck them to the dog bc they tasted and smelled so bad we were almost gagging and throwing up trying to eat them. And they were farm fresh so the eggs themselves werent bad.

Egg donor is making a lasagna this thanksgiving I guess???? I dont even like lasagna but okay. I told my wife about the lasagna and the first thing she said was "oh god". We arent sure how we are going to eat anything there.

I know that's weird to hear. "But you have an 3d? So just dont eat it."

HAHAHAHAHA

I can get away with not eating much at my wifes parents house. My parents? Not so much?

They will straight up HARASS us. Commenting how we didnt eat and shoving food at us and demanding we eat more more more. They were the type growing up that would just SCREAM at me if I didnt clear my plate no matter what was on it or how much. Even in a restaurant they would just full on SCREAM and berate me and tell me what a horrible POS I was. (Yes a child is full and doesnt want to eat anymore how dare)

Gee I wonder where my anxiety around food and binge eating came from (before the restrictive took over and replaced it to counteract the trauma).

So imma be forced to eat way too much that I dont want to eat or even stomach that much on food that can barely be qualified as "sorta edible".

I dont understand why she cant just GOOGLE RECIPES instead of like winging it and it turns out horribly every time.

If I'm going to be forced to overeat at least make the food GOOD goddamn.

I know this sounds so ungrateful bc oh but they dont have to feed you at all. Or whatever. But when we are forced to overeat food that makes us legit feel sick bc its cooked so badly...

Also if you're new here and made it this far... my egg donor is hella toxic and abusive and I  could write multiple novels on the shit she's done to me ranging from telling me starting from when I was literally still a toddler she hopes shes dies (usually in a car crash) so I realize what a horrible person I am. To Munchausen syndrome by proxy (hello most of my medical trauma) from the ages of 2-14. To trying to set me up in an arranged marriage for my 18th birthday to a guy shes STILL obsessed with (shes married). To trying to sabotage my relationship to my wife and get her to breakup with me (obvs it didn't work and my wife just hates her even more now).

Anyways...

Last year when we left we got 20 minutes from the house and pulled in a restaurant to get some to go salads bc we felt like such shit we tried to counteract it with fruits and veggies.

Oh we also never sleep there bc 1. My mother likes to wake the whole house up at 4am and throughout the night periodically. And 2. Their house/property is hella haunted so we always have restless nights. We always have to drug ourselves and sleep with a light on.

So yeah. I'm super fucking dreading Thanksgiving this year more than ever.

[togrowoldinv]

The Good Stuff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Natasha tries to cook a Valentine’s Day dinner for you.

Warnings: a curse word or two, it’s cheesy

Note: Another Valentine’s Day story! I just had to write this one because I made lasagna for my family tonight and I kind of burned it 😂 I hope you enjoy this one!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Natasha never really cooked anything. She would put some simple things in the oven or microwave, but cooking was way more in your wheelhouse.

But for your first Valentine’s Day as a married couple, Natasha wanted to cook you something special. She conferred with Wanda and Sam on how she should prepare a lasagna for you. It was a bold entrance into cooking for her, but she would do anything for you.

When you get home from work, you smell the food cooking and the sound of your wife singing in the kitchen.

You note the song is Careless Whisper and you aren’t surprised. Ever since you played Natasha that song a few months ago, she’s been humming or singing it nonstop.

“Hey baby,” you announce your presence and she turns around to greet you with a huge smile. This is your favorite Natasha.

“Hey, detka,” she crosses the room to kiss your lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Nat,” you say once she pulls away and she kisses your cheek. “Whatcha cooking?”

“It’s more like what I’m trying to cook. And it’s lasagna, but I’m sure I didn’t make it right. The recipe was complicated,” Natasha explains.

“Hm yeah, lasagna is a tough one. But I’m sure it’s great, love,” you assure her. She moves to open the oven and take the lasagna out. The top is a bit burnt, and Natasha sighs.

“Shit,” Nat says as she sits it on the stovetop. “I’m sorry, detka.”

“No need to be sorry, Nat. It looks great!”

“It’s burnt,” she pouts and you kiss her frown away. “I seem to really lack the skill set to cook.”

“It’s perfect, Natasha. Let’s try some and you’ll see,” you wrap an arm around her waist as she plates some of the lasagna for you.

You take the plate from her with a kiss to her cheek. You take a bite and it’s objectively not a great lasagna, but you smile and nod at Natasha.

She makes a plate of her own and you two move to the table. Natasha takes a bite and her nose crinkles up in disgust.

“Y/n! You lied,” she says, barely getting her bite down. She doesn’t sound angry, more like touched with how you tried to spare her feelings.

“I know how much you tried, Nat. And I like it,” you say, eating another bite. It’s somehow worse tasting than the first.

“It fucking sucks, y/n. Admit it, detka,” Natasha says. She almost smirks at her words.

“Okay, it’s not the best.”

“I know.”

“But- no it’s- I’m sorry,” you say and Natasha starts laughing. You laugh along with her and it’s a few moments of just pure bliss.

“Let’s order some takeout?” Natasha suggests and you nod in agreement.

“I love that you tried, baby. And I’d eat this entire pan of the most interesting tasting lasagna to show you how much I love you,” you tell your wife.

“I love you enough to not make you do that,” Natasha says.

She takes a minute to order a pizza and you settle on the couch with a glass of wine.

“Pizza will be here in ten minutes and hopefully not burnt,” Natasha says as she sits next to you. You lean your head on her shoulder and her hand plays with your hair.

“I love you so much, Natasha. Next time you try cooking I’ll be here to help you. As they say, teamwork makes the dream work,” you say.

“I love you more, detka. And I look forward to that. We do make a pretty great team,” Nat agrees.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @be-missed @likefirenrain @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @romanoffscottage @b0r3d-s1mp1ng-b1tch @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom

Let me know if you want to be added to Natasha tag list! And feel free to send in any requests you may have for her 😁

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[chilling-seavey]

What if Florence and Daniel got into a fight bc both of them are stressed out worrying about money and taking care of the kids?? How would my OTP resolve their fight??? 🤔

This was lowkey emotionally draining to write...wowey. 3.3k words later, here’s some proof that Florence and Daniel’s relationship isn’t as perfect and flawless as it seems... x

Monday, November 4th, 2024

Daniel let out a heavy breath as he got into his car after another shift, having spent most of it with his supervisor never being satisfied but that wasn’t new. He turned on the car and connected his phone to Bluetooth to call Florence as he always did before leaving. Strangely, he was sent to voicemail but a text came through instead.

Can you pick up diapers on your way home?

He sighed and replied with a quick ‘ok’ before pocketing his phone and putting the car in reverse. Closer to home, he parked outside the drugstore and headed inside, rushing down the aisles to find the diapers and grabbed the biggest package before bringing it to the cash.

“$37.45.” the cashier said after ringing up the item.

Daniel waved his card and was directed to the machine. He typed in his pin and waited a moment only to be met with card declined: insufficient funds. The glance from the cashier made Daniel feel even worse and he cleared his throat nervously, brushing a hand through his hair before shuffling through his wallet to only be met with a $10 bill and a few loose coins.

“Sorry… I, uh, left my other card at home.” Daniel said softly before leaving the store empty handed.

He sat behind the wheel of his car and tried to steady his breathing after being unable to afford diapers for his baby daughter. After a few moments of trying to calm down and trying not to cry, Daniel turned on the car and headed towards home.

The apartment smelt like burnt supper when he walked in and the noise was insane, the baby’s piecing screams topping it all. No one even heard him come in. Daniel set his guitar case and backpack on the floor in the doorway to the living room, taking in the messy kitchen and loud TV with Clementine sat admits a pile of toys trying to watch it, Penelope on the couch with her face in a pillow and her hands over her ears as she cried, and screaming Lucy in Florence’s arms as the dishevelled looking mother tried to put the dishes in the sink.

“Hey.” Daniel finally spoke, earning the glances of Florence and Clementine.

Clementine jumped up and ran for him as if he was her saviour from the chaos and he picked her up with a tired grunt.

“What’s going on here?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mommy burnt the house down!” Clementine said with a giggle as Daniel carried her towards the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Penelope on the couch for a moment.

“I just burnt the lasagna a bit.” Florence sighed, wiping her damp hand on her shirt that was already covered in tomato sauce and baby drool. Her hair was pulled back but still almost completely falling out of its tie and her makeup-less face looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “Did you pick up the diapers?”

Daniel cleared his throat nervously, setting Clementine back on the ground to let her run back off to the TV, “No, my-”

“Goddammit, Daniel, I ask you to do one thing.” Florence snapped as quietly as she could, tossing the pan in the sink a bit too hard, making Lucy scream louder in her arms.

“I tried, I just-”

“It’s not that hard to remember. Your daughter needs diapers. We have, like, four left but that’s fine; when we run out I’ll just tie one of your shirts around her like a freaking monkey at the zoo.”

“Florence, what is going on?” Daniel asked at her obvious stressed out state.

“I had to pick up Penelope only an hour after dropping her off this morning because the teacher called and said she had a meltdown and wouldn’t relax and everything is setting her off today. The damn oven beeped and she lost her mind. Of course Lucy’s crying only makes it worse and she won’t shut up because she’s teething.” Florence pushed her finger in the five-month-old’s mouth to get a look at her swollen gums and the baby just cried louder. “She also pooped all over everything today which is why we needed new diapers earlier than planned because her personal nuclear bomb ruined half the things on the change table.”

Daniel watched with wide eyes as she rushed over to grab the last two plates from the dining room table and tossed them in the sink too before turning on the tap and letting the water run over everything.

“And Clementine is demanding that she gets this new set for her doll that everyone has at school. She won’t even hear of it for Christmas because she needs it now.” Florence continued. “And she keeps testing me! Judging everything I do like she’s the adult. ‘Mommy, the lasagna’s burnt’. Like I didn’t know!”

“Okay.” Daniel sighed softly, reaching over the counter to take the crying baby from her and made his way to the freezer to take the cold teething ring out and held it out to Lucy. “I’ll take the girls and get them ready for bed and then we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I wanted you to get the diapers like I fucking asked.” Florence grumbled.

“Flora.” Daniel snapped sharply to shut her up.

His glare certainly helped, and she clenched her jaw before looking back to the dishes without another word. Daniel bounced the baby lightly as she kept screaming through the teething ring he desperately tried to put in her mouth as he headed back to the living room.

“Clem, angel, can you tidy up your toys and go get your pyjamas on please?” Daniel asked softly as he turned off the TV.

The almost six-year-old nodded and got up from the rug, starting to gather her things, “There’s a new set you can buy for my dolls, Daddy. It’s a whole car they can ride in and the radio even plays music! It’s really nice and all the girls in my class has it. I wanna get it so we can play together at school.”

“We’ll think about it.” Daniel said, trying to hold back his nausea from the harsh inset of reality. He wanted nothing more than to buy that stupid toy car for his daughter but it was no where near realistic. He set Lucy in her playpen with the teething ring before moving to tend to his middle daughter who was still face down on the couch with her hands over her ears. When he set his hand on her back she startled. “Just me, bug.”

Penelope rolled over, giving him a good look of her swollen red eyes and matted dark hair and tear streaked cheeks, and she held her arms up to him through a hiccup.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Daniel pouted as he bent down and scooped her up, the four-year-old cuddling right into him through her sniffles as he took her to her room to get her cleaned up for bed. He sung softly as he wiped her face clean with a damp cloth and got her into her pyjamas, something that always helped calm her down, and he took his time to help both her and Clementine brush their teeth and comb their hair before tucking them into bed.

Daniel grabbed Lucy for story time, all three girls cuddled up with him as he read them a bedtime story. Lucy fell asleep quickly, probably tired out from all her crying – same with Penelope – and he kissed the oldest two good-night before taking the baby down the hall to bed too. He let his eyes linger on the remaining three diapers in the basket before letting out a small sigh and took one out so he could change her into her pyjamas. Lucy was tucked into her crib with the teething ring beside her just in case and he pushed a pacifier past her lips, watching her for a second as she sleepily sucked on it for a moment, the plastic bumping lightly against her tiny nose.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Daniel closed the nursey door, baby monitor in hand, and made his way back down the hallway for a conversation he really did not want to have.

Florence had the kitchen cleaned up by the time he was back, and they shared expressionless glances as she closed the last cupboard.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” Daniel said, placing the baby monitor on the counter between them, “but you don’t need to take it out on me.”

“Maybe if you did what I asked, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“I tried.” Daniel protested. “It was a hard day and to top it off my card-”

Florence held up her hand to cut him off, “You go to work to play music for eight hours and then come home to a good meal that you don’t have to cook. You have it easy.”

“Easy?” Daniel gaped. “Are you kidding me? You know how much shit I do in my job and how many late nights and early mornings and weekends I put into this. It’s no where near easy.”

“Oh yeah.” Florence chuckled humourlessly. “When you don’t have to lift a finger around here, leaving me to practically raise your children.”

“You think I like never seeing my wife or kids?!” Daniel frowned. “It was bad when Lucy was first born, yeah, but we even had a whole discussion and I got much more time freed up. But I can’t just sit at home all day with you guys, this isn’t a fairy-tale.”

“I know but you act like I’m a psychotic bitch when I let it all get to me! I got shit on today! And walked over and hit and kicked and bitten and screamed at and I burnt my arm trying to get the charred dinner out of the oven. You just don’t understand what it’s like to stay home!”

“You have no idea what it’s like to work! To go out and earn a salary! You could have gone to school and gotten a degree and then figured out what you wanted to do with your life but instead you chose to cruise off everyone else. You didn’t even pay for your first apartment! Callum did! You have no freaking idea the value of money!”

“I was raising my daughter.” Florence seethed. “Fuck you for even saying that.”

“You could have made it work.”

“Sorry I chose to focus on her rather than shoving her in daycare to be pretty much raised by a stranger for the first four years of her life. I didn’t have the money for any of that. I barely had money to put food on the fucking table half the time and you know that.”

“So get over yourself! Stop being so goddamn selfish if you’re so finically-aware!”

“Fuck you!” Florence shouted, walking around the counter as if she were going to leave the room but she stopped in the middle of the living room and turned back to him. “I get that you have to work and I am thankful that you even have a job, but a little compassion isn’t a lot to ask of you.”

“Compassion? Are you serious?” Daniel scoffed loudly, taking a few quick strides across the room to stand in front of her, shouting back his rebuttal, “I nearly wait on you hand and foot and I drop everything whenever you need me and for years I always have! I have done nothing but work my ass off for you and our kids and you still have the audacity to say that it’s still not enough? I work too much and now I don’t work enough and then I don’t ‘understand what you’re going through’. Well, dammit, Florence, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to care about other things than your work!”

“I already cut my hours! We’re nearly fucking broke, Florence, I don’t know why you can’t understand that! We literally cannot afford for me to lose one more hour a week! Last months rent virtually drained us and we are surviving on a $10 bill and my fucking shoelace right now! I’m pushed to the fucking brim half the time trying to get all the shit done so I don’t have to work overtime so I can still come home to you and the girls and all I’m met with is attitude and snark and an ungrateful wife who scolds me like my goddamn mother when I walk in the door!”

Florence didn’t reply for a beat and the silence lingered heavy over the apartment. Her eyebrows furrowed first before her face scrunched up in anger and she jabbed a finger in Daniel’s face before yelling, “Fuck you! I am not staying home just to make you a supper and serve you a beer in a pretty pink dress and heels with a face full of makeup and a fake smile when you get in from work. This isn’t the 19-fucking-50s! I am allowed to have emotions, Daniel James, and right now you are tugging at every single last one of them! How dare you say these things to me!”

“You are freaking out for no reason!” Daniel shouted louder to top her. “You’re twisting everything I’m saying! Do you even hear yourself?”

“All I can hear is you being a selfish and ungrateful son of a bitch!” Florence screamed, throwing a couch cushion at him.

“Throwing things at me? Real mature, Florence. Real fucking mature! God, why don’t you understand?!” Daniel shut his eyes and threw his hands into his hair and tugged hard to try and rid his frustrations. “You’re so naïve sometimes, you drive me fucking crazy!”

They were already even listening to each other anymore, simply off on their own tangents trying to out-volume the other. Daniel and Florence didn’t fight often, priding themselves on their open communication, but everything eventually hits a bump and when they did, they really did.

“Just go play your pretty music, Daniel! Make some pretty music with your friends and put it online for everyone rave over and shut up. I’ll be here taking care of and being hit like a punching bag by your children.”

“You know what, I would appreciate it if you stopped fucking accusing me of being a shitty father because I have a job! I have been trying my best and if that’s not enough for you then I don’t know what to tell you!” Daniel put his hands up.

“What? You’re gonna leave?” Florence laughed humourlessly, throwing her finger in the direction of the door. “Fine! Go on! Wouldn’t be the first time! Leave when it gets hard Daniel!” She cut her screams, leaning in closer to him to whisper sharply, “Just like Matt did.”

Their fight seemed to echo through the apartment as silence fell again, her angry expression still glaring at him as his face melted into neutrality.

“Don’t say that.” Daniel said softly, trying to each for her.

“Don’t touch me.” Florence stepped back before walking quickly down the hallway.

“Flora, I’m not gonna-” Daniel started after her but the slamming of the bedroom door startled him to stop in place. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face to try and calm down, leaning back against the wall of the hallway. It was surprising that the baby wasn’t crying given the fact they just had a ten-minute-long screaming match.

Daniel composed himself enough to open the girls’ bedroom door and peak in, finding them both huddled up together in Clementine’s bed, frightened looks on their faces.

“Hey, my loves.” Daniel sighed, sitting himself on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry if we scared you. Mommy and I haven’t been talking as much as we should have been, and we got a little crazy. Do you forgive us?”

Clementine and Penelope nodded. Daniel kissed each of their heads and got them tucked in again in their own beds.

“No more yelling tonight?” Penelope asked.

“No more yelling.” Daniel promised, smiling sadly between his two eldest. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on Clementine a moment longer, remembering the night Matt walked out, leaving nineteen-year-old Florence and baby Clementine alone and a mess in their small apartment. She stared up at him with those same blue eyes he always remembered, and he gave her an extra kiss on the cheek, staying with them until they were drifting back to sleep, “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Daniel found himself back outside the master bedroom door with his hand on the knob and his forehead against the cool wood, taking slow breaths to keep himself calm to try the conversation again. He finally opened the door and slipped inside before closing it silently behind him. The light was on in the ensuite and he stopped in the doorway.

Florence glanced up at him from where she stood in front of the vanity brushing her hair. She silently turned back and continued what she was doing.

“Come here.” Daniel whispered, stepping closer and gently pulled her arms down from her hair to wrap around his shoulders and he tucked his own tightly around her waist, peppering a few kisses over her cheek and across her shoulder. “I love you. So fucking much. Even when you scream at me and swear at me and throw things at me.”

Florence sniffled a little, holding him tighter. “I love you too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Daniel rubbed a hand over her back. “No matter what.”

“I’m sorry.” Florence mumbled, wrapping her fingers around the material of his shirt and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m sorry too.” Daniel sighed. “My card got declined today. It scared me.”

“What?” Florence leaned back with concern, holding her hands on his biceps to keep him close as she stared at his flushed face.

“$37 for diapers and my card was declined. I felt like a fucking idiot, like an absolute joke of a father…can’t even buy the necessities for my kid.” Daniel sighed, turning to lean back against the counter and hung his head. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, Flora. I’m scared.”

“I know.” Florence mumbled, petting her hand through his hair. “Maybe we should talk to someone? Get a budget figured out until we get back on our feet. Worst case scenario, we ask your parents for a bit of a loan. We’re not going to lose anything from this.”

Daniel nodded, biting his lip as he stared at the floor, fingers holding tightly onto the edge of the counter behind him.

“I’m sorry.” his voice broke and he struggled to hold back a small sob, quickly hiding his face in his hands.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Florence frowned, wrapping her arms around him to let him cry against her shoulder, “I know how hard you work. You’re such a good dad and an amazing husband. I know you’re trying your best and I also know it’s slowly starting to destroy you.”

Daniel whimpered as he nodded, clinging onto her tighter through his tears as he muffled a sob into her neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Florence sighed, running her hand up and down his back. “I took my own shit out on you. I needed any excuse to yell, I guess.”

“Better me than at the girls.” Daniel chuckled lightly, pulling back from their hug a little to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I love you.” Florence said strongly, taking his face in her hands. “$0 in your pocket or millions. Doesn’t matter. Don’t you forget it, okay?”

Daniel nodded and leaned in to kiss her once, lingering there a moment longer before pulling back.

“Now no more tears.” Florence said, taking a deep breath herself as she started to feel herself start to cry. “There have been to many tears in this house today.”

[imaginationcemetary]

I'm enjoying what I've seen so far of your imagines and all that! Can I ask where some or all the boys you first listed would take someone on a first date who's shy and quiet, who might not like to talk very much?

Awww sure, this is such a cute ask! I’ll give a quick answer for all most of the skellie boys. (I worked for seven days straight and lost my progress on this twice. I was starting to feel a bit demoralized and stopped after the main group.) Feel free to send in another ask if anyone you want to see isn’t on the list!

Tale (Undertale Sans):

Tale is a great guy to go on a first date with when you’re the quiet shy, type. He’ll suggest a simple stay at home take out and movie night if you want it to just be the two of you. If you’d rather go out, he’ll take you somewhere you’re both comfortable at and enjoy eating; so, probably Grillby’s. Either way, he’s going to spend the whole night telling you jokes just to hear you giggle. He won’t care that you don’t talk much, but he will do his best to make sure you’re comfortable and having a good time. If you do go out together somewhere, he won’t mind drawing the spotlight away from you if you start getting nervous talking to a waiter/ess or some random passerby that makes comments directed at you.

Papaya (Undertale Papyrus):

Papaya would be the type to insist you come over for a first date, stating that home is the most comfortable place to get to know someone. He would make the two of you something home made to share, though it would be safer for you to offer to help him cook it under the guise of bonding, unless you like burnt or underdone food. He worries that you don’t talk a lot during the date, but when he realizes that you’re just shy and not having a bad time, he’ll be glad to do most of the talking, telling you stories and hoping that sharing things about himself will encourage you to do the same.

Fell (Underfell Sans):

Fell is the type to take his date to the bar. He hopes a few drinks will make his shy date open up a bit and act more confident with him. He’ll be at odds with himself if they aren’t a drinker, trying to find ways to get them more comfortable talking to him. He’ll probably tease them a lot for being so shy and flustered and likely won’t stop unless his date tells him to knock it off or he sees it’s bothering them more than it’s flustering them.

Bamf (Underfell Papyrus):

Bamf will either be a total gentleman and cook you a homemade lasagna with a glass of wine, beware vinegar or glass shards in your pasta, or he will take you out to a nice restaurant with a low key atmosphere. Either way, soft piano music will be playing in the background and he will take the opportunity to tell you stories about himself until feel comfortable having a two sided conversation. If you have the homemade dinner, he may even be the one playing the piano for you!

Blueberry (Underswap Sans)

Blue gets so excited planning the perfect first date with you that he forgets to factor in how shy you are. He’ll take you to his favorite cafe where coincidentally just so happens to be open mike poetry night. He will one hundred percent get up on stage and read you something and then hope to encourage you to be brave enough to get up on stage and recite something too. He won’t be disappointed if you don’t though, he just hopes that seeing everyone taking a shot and opening themselves up to total strangers will help you feel comfortable doing the same with him.

Marmalade (Underswap Papyrus):

Marm will take you somewhere nice and relaxed, like the park or a garden walk. It’ll be nice and quiet and the two of you can walk together just enjoying the sights. He’ll let his arm hang down at his side, hand brushing against yours in case you ever feel like holding it and point out some neat things you might have missed if you weren’t paying attention. If you go to the park, the two of you will feed ducks together and he might fall asleep in the grass pointing out cloud shapes for you. If you go to the garden, you might wind up with a flower tucked behind your ear when he tells you his favorite kind of flower is a ‘wallflower’ as a joke. A surprise picnic basket may be involved at some point.

Blackberry (Swapfell Purple Sans):

Berry will take his shy date to one of those combination cafe book stores, and he will walk around with them perusing the books, quietly making conversation with them. He’ll pick out a book and have his date do the same, and then they’ll order lunch together and read quietly while they wait for their food. When it comes time to eat, he’ll ask questions about his date’s book until they’re talking so animatedly about it that they forget to be shy with him, and then he’ll move the conversation on to learning more about them. He’s also definitely the kind of person to ask his date out with a handwritten letter.

Syrup (Swapfell Purple Papyrus):

Syrup is going to drag you to Endgame, no ifs ands or buts. It’s a gaming bar. It has almost every console you can imagine free for play, and it serves drinks and food. It’s basically paradise for him. He’s so fucking bad at dating and romance, but he figures he can make a bet with you; for every game he beats you at, you have to tell him something about yourself and vice versa. Either way he wins. He keeps beating you? He gets to learn all he wants about you. You beat him? He gets a date who can keep up with him and he’ll be more eager to beat you or swap to a coop game.

Razzberry (Swapfell RedSans):

If you’re the quiet shy type, Razz will bring you somewhere more activity focused than conversation focused, like the mall, or the arcade, or bowling, or a movie theater. That way the two of you will have something to focus on rather than try to fill the silence unnaturally.

Rust (Swapfell Red Papyrus):

It depends what you’re interested in, but if you let him choose, Rus is going to take you for a ride on his motorcycle to a bar with live music, and then he’ll take you out for a quiet night of stargazing cuddled up on a blanket together. There will never be a point in time you feel like you have to do or say more than you’re comfortable with and he’ll be down for whatever you’re open to suggesting to make you more comfortable. He’s all about enjoying the moments as they come, so you might find your quietness helps you notice and appreciate them more too.

[ubernoxa]

The Dare: A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 32: The First Aftershock

Story Summary: A stupid harmless dare, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be something they would do, and never revisit. For Delilah, little did she know that visiting the strip wasn’t going to be a one time thing when she made the choice to accept the dare. Life is full of choices. Some choices can mean absolutely nothing, while others can change your entire world. Delilah had heard many rumors about the Sunset Strip or Devil’s Strip. Teenagers would whisper stories about how the Devil walks the streets of the strips without a care in the world. It was known as a place untouched by God. After years of hearing rumors about the Devil’s Strip, Delilah wants to see it for herself. Thus a Dare was born.

Chapter Summary: Drew publishes the article, and the first aftershock occurs.

Author’s Note: Well...here goes nothing. Sorry for the shorter chapter.

Masterlist

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks @str4nge-haze @queen-crue

The office was filled with the chatter as Drew read through his article one last time. He pat himself on his back as he found his golden ticket. His chance to truly make a name for himself. Maybe one day he might actually leave this trash no name magazine article company, and work at Rolling Stone.

“Hey, good luck today Drew!”

“Thanks Jerry, good luck to you too!” Drew never let the smile escape his lips. He submitted his article this morning and ever since there had been murmurings of some newbie writer finding the new it story. Only one hour ago his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he overheard some of his coworkers whispering about his article possibly not only making the cover page of the magazine, but being the cover article.

“Drew can I speak to you in my office?” Drew’s head shot up the moment his manager said his name. Drew practically bolted from his desk when he heard his manager summon him to the office. This was it, he was going to make the cover page!

Once Drew closed the door, he was met with an entirely different situation.

“What the hell is this?” All confidence left Drew at his manager’s words.

“My story,” Drew quickly replied while trying to keep his ground.

“No, your story was about the struggle of making it big on the strip and who the unsung heroes were. Not an article about a bunch of sluts and whores,” Drew tried to steady his breath as he was being lectured by his manager.

“You said find the sorry, so I found it.” Drew’s manager let a sigh escape him as he took off his glasses.

“What happened to the article you showed me a couple days ago about these same women? Drew this article is slander,” his manager sounded defeated as he spoke.

“Not if it’s the truth,” Drew replied earning some cuss words from his manager.

“I just..Drew, I’m not speaking to you as a manager, but as a friend. This has caught a lot of...attention. If you go through with it, there is no turning back,” his manager’s voice was sharp as he spoke.

“I don’t know why you brought this up? Do the higher ups not like it?” Drew sassed back.

“No, they like it...You’re going to make enemies when you post this. You’re going to ruin these girls’ lives,” His manager messaged the bridge of his nose as he talked.

“They told me this, they let me interview them. I didn’t force them to take those photos,” Drew snapped back.

Drew’s manager went silent for several moments before he broke the silence, “Fine, I will let you present this article. I will sign off on publishing it, BUT you have to tell me this isn’t personal. This article is all business and is not motivated by anything else.”

“Nothing personal, just business,” Drew shrugged back. No lie had ever come off his tongue so easily. Mags was going to pay for lying about having his baby. He wanted to make sure her world was destroyed just like she tried to destroy his.

———————————

Duff couldn’t have propelled himself up the stairs faster. Delilah had teased him the night before about a home cooked meal and a present, and he couldn’t get him mind off of it.

“Where the hell is he in a rush to?” Axl groaned as he dragged himself up another flight.

“Delilah told him last night that she had a surprise for him,” Slash mumbled as he followed the red head. All Slash wanted was a quiet night sleeping in an actual bed, but he wasn’t getting that tonight. Duff had practically begged him to spend the night on the couch in hopes that she would have sex with him. Little did Duff know that the present was a new banner, and not sex.

“Ohh Jesus Christ,” Axl mumbled under his breath earning some chuckles from Steven and Izzy.

“Atleast we’ll get some sort of home cooked meal,” Izzy said thoughts of Delilah’s cooking filled his mind, but his thoughts disappeared when he entered the small apartment. The stench of a burnt dinner still lingered in the air, suffocating him.

“Did Delilah burn something?” Axl whispered as he went to investigate the kitchen. He couldn’t remember a time when she had. Izzy followed him right at his heals missing the scene in the small living room.

The small living room was filled with their girls sleeping on the floors or couches. Delilah had cocooned in one of Duff’s blankets. Mags was right next to her fast asleep with her head on Delilah’s side. Tonya and Stef shared the other couch in a similar position. Upon first glance everything seemed normal, there was no cause for concern for the dark of night hid their smudged makeup and tear stained cheeks.

“They look cute don’t they,” Duff smiled at Steven’s comment. It had only been a couple weeks, but it felt like ages since he had seen her.

“Is that a new banner?” Duff asked, smiling at the purple banner that hung above the rotting couch. It was a soft lilac with their logo painted on in a deep purple. It looked screen printed or done by a professional, god she was talented.

“Yeah, Del must have made it,” Steven said before placing a kiss on Stef’s forehead and picking her up bridal style heading to bed.

“Burnt?” Axl nodded at Izzy’s words as he looked at the blackened lasagna. Izzy began to poke around the lasagna to see if any of it was edibles. Axl would have been lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to Del’s cooking.

“What the hell?” Izzy picked up a magazine page that was ripped in half.

“Maybe they used it for painting or some shit...to keep the paint from getting on the rotting floor?” Axl shrugged disassembling the lasagna hoping to find an unburnt layer. Relief passed him as he did and cut a piece out of the center. He was going to get a home cooked meal after all.

“Is that Duff and Del?” Izzy motioned towards the cover of one of the trash magazines that he’d see by the checkout line.

It was, there was no denying it. On the cover of a magazine was Delilah lying on Duff’s lap with his hand up her floral dress.

“The real stories of the strip: the drugs, sex, and whores of an up and coming Rock & Roll band,” Axl mumbled as he read the title on the cover out loud. He shot Izzy a confused look once he finished reading it out loud. What the actual fuck?

“Wasn’t this article supposed to be about how they helped us or putting them in a good light? A feel good story type of thing?”

“That’s what I was told,” Izzy watched as Axl began to clench his fists, and breathe deeper.

Izzy was sure of one thing, Drew was going to pay for writing this damn article.

Izzy watched as Duff picked Delilah up bridal style and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. Izzy contemplated on showing Duff the article, about the reason for Delilah’s tear stained cheeks. He didn’t. He was going to, but as he saw Duff’s tired face covered with the joy of having Delilah in his arms again, he couldn’t do it.

————————-

Cold, that was the first thing Duff noticed when he woke up the following morning. He sighed as he tried to fight the sunlight that was prying his eyes open. He eventually gave in. His heart sunk when he wasn’t welcomed by Delilah’s cinnamon smell or her cute giggle. He shrugged assuming that she must have just began to make breakfast.

Duff leapt out of bed and immediately headed for the kitchen trying to see if Delilah had begun to make breakfast. He walked into the small kitchen hoping to see Delilah, but the kitchen was empty. The usual smell of bacon and eggs or pancakes that usually filled their apartment has been erased. He sauntered his way into the living room to be greeted by an annoyed Slash and Axl.

“Where’s Del,” Duff pulled Axl and Slash out of their discussion as he spoke. Part of him wondered what the hell they were bickering about, but at the same time he was more concerned about Delilah.

“Don’t know, she left with Stef, Mags, and Steven like a half hour ago to go to the store or some shit,” Slash replied taking another sip of his drink.

Axl just shook his head and hid a laugh as he lounged on one of the torn up couches. He couldn’t believe that Duff was bale to sleep through the fight that had happened between Stef, Steven, and Mags not even an hour ago.

“Why?”

“Have you read the article yet?” Axl shot back in a cocky tone.

“What article?”

“The one that fucker Drew James wrote,” Slash’s blunt tone caught him off guard. While Drew hadn’t discussed Slash’s sex life as much as the others, he was still pissed at the comments Drew made about his love of snakes.

“No you’re not gonna watch me fucking pee on it you jackass because that’s a damn violation of my personal privacy,” Mag’s voice echoed through the small apparent as she stormed in. She flung the door open, practically throwing it off his hinges. Slash and Axl went silent the moment Mags walked into the room, curious to see how the scene would unfold.

“No, but I have a right to know if it’s your pee or not!” Steven shouted right back.

“Oh my ducking god Steven! You think I’m going to stoop that fucking low??” Mags shot back.

“Hey hey hey, Steven. Breathe okay breathe,” Delilah held onto Steven wrists while trying to hold him back from following Mags. Stef and Tonya bolted past the two of them to help Mags.

“Del”

“Steven, please,” Delilah’s voice was no louder than a whisper. She was a lost for words for how to calm him down, but after Stef and Steven’s fight this morning she knew that she was the only one with hope of calming him down. The only problem was that she had no idea what she was doing.

“Del, that bastard got her pregnant,” guilt was tearing Steven apart as tears began to cascade down his face. He continued to torture himself with blaming himself. She met Drew because of his band, because of him. She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for him. He couldn’t protect her and it was all his fault.

“Shhh shhh shhh,” Delilah pulled him in for a hug as she tried calming him down.

“Del, is she pregnant with that bastard’s child?” Delilah couldn’t answer, all she could do was pull him in tighter for a hug.

She mumbled, “I’m sorry” before she let go of him and walked towards to moldy bathroom that was at the end of the hall. Duff remained frozen as Delilah hurried past him rushing down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Delly,” Steven turned towards Duff’s soft wine that Delilah had clearly ignored. Duff’s eyes never lingered from Delilah as she ran into the bathroom.

“What the fuck is going on,” Duff turned towards his band.

“Drew fucking James,” Axl tossed Duff the trash magazine with the infamous article in it.

Duff’s heart stopped as he saw the cover of the magazine. Under any other circumstance, he would of loved to see a photo of Delilah lying on top of him. Her smile and the look in her eyes would have melted his heart any other day. The longer he looked at the photo the angrier he became. He looked at his hand that had bunched up Delilah’s dress, so he could grab at her underwear. If this was any other girl with him on the cover he would have shrugged it off, but this wasn’t any other girl. This was Del, and this photo made her look like a damn whore.

[hollandroos]

How Could I Not? | Seven

Playlist | Wattpad | Series masterlist

Summary: You and Tom are only supposed to be friends... friends who sometimes take things a step further and friends who can’t seem to spend longer then a few days apart. But that can all change with a positive pregnancy test and Suddenly you have to work together more then ever to prepare for the new life you created. But is it really that easy?

Words: 3361

Warnings: Lots of talk of adoption. Please don't read if that is a sensitive topic for you and hold back any nasty comments until you read future chapters, thank you!!

Please remember to reblog/comment/send an ask if you enjoyed this!!

Read the previous chapter here!

It wasn’t really anyone's fault that you forgot there was food in the oven – what, with the gentle tune of the Beatles playing overtop of a chorus of everlasting laughter between the two of you, not to mention the snoring dog in the corner of the room. Something was bound to happen – it was you and Tom, for crying out loud.

“Dance with me,”

Tom says it as a statement, not a question. He wants – no, he needs you to dance with him. He needs to feel his arms wrapped securely around your waist, to feel your feet move in time with his. It was so cliche, really, but Tom lived for cliche.

He was the type of go out of his way to surprise his love with roses on his way home from work, one for every time he’d wanted to send a quick ‘I love you’ text that day but hadn’t been able to. The type to spend hours perfecting the best meal he could muster up and additionally, plate it with a glass of the best wine he could afford. The type to kiss in the rain, if he had the chance.

You open your mouth in protest, the smell of the cheesy pasta dish wafting around the kitchen. “The dinner–”

“Dance with me.” Tom all but smiles, words slipping from his mouth with such ease and suddenly you’re putty in the palm of his hand. And you don’t hesitate to mould into his body, allowing yourself to fall into him.

“Why did you want to dance with me?” You chuckle, leaning your head against him. You give in, allowing Tom to take you wherever he wants to go. That seemed to be nowhere and you find yourself swaying gently in the comfort of the area between the kitchen and the living room.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Jus’ felt like it.”

You hum, breathing in the scent of his cologne. You’d learnt that it was some kind of axe spray that he had cans of hidden around the apartment – such as in the kitchen cupboards and tucked away in his car. The song finishes and a new one begins, one Tom wasn’t aware of but the last thing he wants to do is complain about the pre-nineties tune when he has you right there, humming gently along with the lyrics.

Your eyes are closed and you look at peace as he rocks you two back and forth, feet both stuck to the floor as you sway. 

His heart beats prominently in his chest and it’s nearly impossible not to count every beat. Every beat tells you that he’s there with you, reminding you of the fact that you’re beyond lucky to have him. And funny enough, Tom was thinking the same about you. 

Your peace is short-lived, however, as mere minutes later there’s a horrid – god awful smell and you can’t even hide your disgust with your face in his chest.

“What’s that smell?” Tom mumbles, screwing his nose up.

And you want to ask the same question – before you gasp, eyes widening and you push yourself away from Tom making him stumble back slightly. For a few moments, the brunette stands in confusion before he himself is hit with the realisation.

“The food, Tom, we burnt it!” You exclaim, rushing to the oven. You hardly have time to slip the oven mitt over your hands but that doesn’t matter – because the second you open the oven door black smoke drifts out, flooding the kitchen. “Fuck, I told you we were going to burn it.” You curse under your breath, resisting the urge to cough as you turn the oven off.

“Sorry, love,” Tom says half-heartedly, resisting the urge to laugh at the sight of you looking so frantic. If it weren’t for the clouds of smoke painting your kitchen darker hues of grey then he would’ve laughed. Surely. “Got too distracted, maybe next time I’ll listen.”

He was distracted by your humming, and thoughts he couldn't simply shove away such as the thought that you fit against him so easily. Like two pieces of a wazzgij puzzle. 

“Maybe,” You taunt, bringing the meal out of the oven. It didn't take a second opinion to tell that it belonged in the bin, right ontop of the expired cat food. “Should we just order pizza?” You speak between coughs.

You continue to wave the towel around the living room, praying the smoke detectors won’t go off again. Toms antics had already set the alarms off once, nearly three months ago now and he seemed to be the only one in the entire evacuated building that found it amusing. He had stifled his chuckles in the rain, cheeks tinted red and hair flat against his forehead.

But now, the room stunk. The smell makes you screw your face up in disgust. That was definitely going to be the last time you were going to attempt to make a fancy meal.

“Pizza sounds good.” Tom agrees, feeling his stomach begin to rumble. And to think, the smell of the charcoal lasagna stole his appetite for a solid minute. “I’ll see to it, can I use your laptop?”

“Yeah, it’s sitting on the couch, I think.” You speak, raising your voice so he can hear from the living room. “Get me the cheesy one with the stuffed crust! That’s my favourite.”

“I already knew that,” Tom calls back, typing in the six letter password. “Dominos or pizza hut?” He asks, looking up briefly.

You’re humming a song in the kitchen, competing with the buzzing fridge but Tom can make out the lyrics to Hey Jude by the Beatles. The smell of the burnt lasagne barely bothers you anymore as you sway your hips to the song playing through the speakers and your lips. He smiles to himself, watching you prance carelessly around the kitchen with a flannel shirt pulled over you, tucked into a pair of denim shorts. Laptop and rumbling stomach forgotten, his eyes sparkle with joy at the sight.

He makes a small note to let you play your music more often, even if it wasn’t his favourite – because the light that adorns your eyes is simply captivating. He’s stuck in the best kind of trance.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid You were made to go out and get her

“Dominos. Pizza hut is nowhere near as good.” You tell him, testing the water with your fingertips. You wince when it’s too hot, pulling your hand to your chest and decide that the awaiting dishes can simmer a little longer. Tom grimaces and looks back at the screen. There’s a picture of you and Laura taken last summer, wearing matching dresses and oversized sunglasses hugging your noses. He can’t remember if he took that photo – it may have been Harrison.

That was the same holiday that the set of you took a road trip and found yourselves renting a caravan and setting it up next to the beach. Mornings were spent sleeping in – or for you and Tom, hiding beneath the sheets with childish grins on your faces while your friends slept and nights were spent sitting by the ocean, threatening to push one another in and sharing chicken and vegetable kebabs.

The minute you let her under your skin Then you begin to make it better

You were getting under his skin, making your way into his heart and you were yet to realise it. That had happened long before your holiday trip. But he liked it. He liked the way your mere presence could make him feel like he was on top of the world and somehow – somehow, the glint in your eyes reminded him of the stars that he could and would stare at endlessly every night before bed.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

“So cheese with a stuffed crust and Hawaiian for me?” He finds himself asking, cursor hovering over the ‘add to cart’ button. He was thankful for twenty-four seven delivery – a new addition that he often found himself succumbing too at one am. Maybe it was becoming a bad habit but he couldn’t say no. His self-control was discarded in the am.

“Garlic bread too.” You remind him, dipping your hand into the soapy water. Suds end where your wrist begins.

Tom directs the mouse over to the tabs, squinting his eyes at the bright light and nothing can stop him from pressing the extra tab, his pure curiosity overriding the fact that the two of you had an unspoken rule about invading the other's privacy. But he couldn’t stop himself when the eight letter word caught his eyes.

It started with an A and ended in N. The second letter was D, third O.

Tom bites his lip, switching tabs and silently deciding that the pizza can wait another moment.

‘Looking at adoption. Things you must know.’ ‘Adoption agencies UK.’

You know when people say that they felt their breathing stop? well, Tom did then – for sure. There’s also the feeling of his heart dropping out of his chest, plummeting into his chest.

One second it’s there, beating, pumping blood throughout his body and the next he’s stuck staring. Unmoving. There are not enough words in the human language to describe the confusion Tom experiences as he tries to read the page with hazy eyes.

There’s a feeling of disbelief because Tom swore you wanted this as badly as he did – maybe not at first, but maybe the excitement hit after the first ultrasound. Or maybe it was when he dreamt about taking his little girl to the beach for the first time or coming home to a chorus of soft, baby giggles.

Toms had photos of outfit ideas for his little one already. He had a Pinterest board of parenting tips and had even started listing a couple of names. He liked Emilia for a girl and Sutton for a boy. Marlowe was on the list too, and Starlette. Harrison had suggested Luna and his mother had suggested Max. Maybe he’d fallen too deep into his own world and forgotten that you had your own.

The song finishes, the soothing voice of the Beatles fading out slowly. Just slow enough for your humming to fade out with it, and you look over to see your best friend unmoving in his spot and while you can only see him from the side on, you notice his hand, stiff over the cursor. Suddenly the burnt lasagna and boiling sink seems unimportant.

“Tom?” You prompt, stepping around the kitchen table. Bubbles drip off of your hand and land on the floorboards, a safety risk you’d remember to look at later.

He blinks once before scrolling, seeing a series of previously opened articles and his heart succumbs to nothing but broken, confused pieces.

“What’s this?”

He picks up the laptop and shows you what’s on the screen and you tense. Be it from frustration because he invaded your privacy or the fact that you’d been caught – the bench suddenly seems so cold beneath tense fingers.

“Why are you looking through my stuff–” You snap, biting into your gum to keep you from going off at him.

He grits his teeth, placing the computer down on the table and stands up. He’s tense, clearly, and knuckles are clenched at his side with so much might. Tom rarely got angry, in fact, he hardly ever found himself fuming but here he was. And here you were a mere few meters away.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Tom,” You sigh, letting out a breathe as tears glisten in his eyes. Tom looked a good concoction of angry and deflated. Shocked too. “Of course I was going to tell you but I just needed… I needed more time to wrap my mind about this entire thing.”

“Were you going to tell me?” He asks again, only this time the words are more muffled and less coherent then before.

A sigh leaves your lips. One that said more then words could. On one hand, you want to run into his arms and mutter apologies – admittedly Tom looked really cosy right now. You’d much rather be bundled up in his arms, a warm blanket thrown over your shoulders then argue with him. But you also know that you need to stand up for yourself and what you were doing.

“You were so excited. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“You can’t just… you can’t just consider other options and not tell me, not when you were so ready to go through with this.” He struggles to form words, finding that everything he wanted to say he probably shouldn’t.

The pets seemed to be completely unaware of what was happening. Both lay still, the cat purring softly against Tessa as if using her as a pillow. Much like Tom did when he was sleeping, Tess snores lightly. You and Tom both secretly wish that you could be as chilled as your pets, but don’t voice your thoughts.

It’s crazy that – how everything can fall apart so suddenly. One second you’re laughing over burnt lasagna, praying that the smoke detector won’t blare at any moment and arguing over what takeouts you’ll get instead because neither are you are decent cooks and the next you’re admitting that you probably tested your trust. And that now there may not be much to rebuild.

Swallowing back your nerves, you clench your fists at your side. “Don’t tell me not to consider other options. You don’t get to tell me not to do that.”

“But that baby is mine too,” Tom was seething with anger and you were about to collapse from feeling all too many things at once. You’d gone from a giggling mess to outright fearful of losing everything you’d built. “We’re in this together, remember that? We both agreed on that.” Tom lets out a shaky breath.

“We are in this together but we need to look at the fact that we do have other options too–”

Tom interrupts you abruptly. “You moved in here so that we could look after our baby together! I asked you to move in here to make things easier, that’s what we agreed on, was it not?”

“You asked me to move in because you wanted me closer in case anything happened to me or the baby while he or she is still inside me.” You correct, practically seething with frustration as he speaks. Every word made you feel smaller then the last. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t love the baby, Tom, of course not. How could I not love him? I’ve been tracking the growth, watching for signs that something could be wrong. Shit, I’ve been doing what I can, when I can.”

For a few moments, your words simmer in silence – at least what silence was possible overtop of the radio which played another one of your songs, only quieter this time and you weren’t in the mood to hum.

Tom was too busy trying to come up with the best thing to say but all he could come up with was eight words.

“I won’t let you give up our baby up,” Tom says, quietly but harshly. Bitterness laces every word, dripping from his lips like venom and you’re more then aware of it – as well as the fact that Tom had never spoken to you in that tone before and you were more then sure that you didn’t like it.

Our baby.

“We need to talk about this properly.” You try, far from fed up over arguing like children.

Tom agrees, but he can’t see much beyond the feeling of betrayal. If he could even call it that.

“I thought you wanted this, you know? You led me to believe that you wanted this and you were going behind my back–”

“You think I want to give the baby up? You think it doesn’t break my heart to consider other options?” You speak up, the urge to breakdown growing stronger. But you wouldn’t in front of him. “Jesus, Tom, we told your parents about the baby and they embraced us with open arms and promised to do what they could. We told mine and they walked out. I’ve texted my mum every day but I’ve heard nothing. I want my family back.”

“I think that you’re being selfish.”

You scoff. 

“Did you really just go there?” He doesn’t respond, swimming in his own guilt. “I’m not selfish for considering other options when I’ve given up so much already and if you can’t support me then so be it… but don’t tell me that I don’t have other choices here.”

Tom doesn’t know what else to say. He feels frozen in his spot, trying to take in and accept every word that falls from your lips but he can’t find it in him to respond. The sickly smell of burnt lasagna was long forgotten by either of you, as was his hunger that had since subside and was replaced by an overwhelming amount of frustration.

You, on the other hand, want to yell at him for not answering you. You want to demand an answer because the silence was deafening and you just needed an apology or at least the knowledge that you can talk about this with him instead of yelling and having to defend your side.

Gritting your teeth, you pick up the nearest coat which happened to be strewn over the chair and wrap it around you, then going back to the kitchen counter where you hastily grab your phone and car keys. The gentle jingling of the keys snaps Tom out of whatever haze he was in.

“I’m leaving, Tom, call me when you actually want to talk like adults – like two adults who are supposed to be bringing a baby into the world.” You spit, missing the remorse that crosses his face at lightning speed.

“Don’t go, we need to talk about this.” He extends an arm and tries to grab yours and for a second, he succeeds, right before you tug yourself from his grasp and glare.

“Why? So we can continue to argue?” You stop, waiting for Tom to answer but he doesn’t. He knows you’re right. “I don’t want to have this conversation like this and I won’t be made to feel like the bad guy when you refuse to even hear me out without losing your temper.”

A large part of you wants him to tell you not to leave, to say that you can sort this out in the morning when you’re both not angry about the invasion of privacy and about him getting mad at you for considering other options and additionally, for calling you selfish. And then maybe you’d apologise for not telling him.

Admittedly, you could admit your mistakes.

And if Tom told you again not to leave, then maybe you wouldn’t have stormed out of the apartment but instead to your bedroom where you’d stay until dusk. Then, you’d creep into his room and you’d discuss this when you were both calm and steam – highlighting your anger, wasn’t making its way out of your ears.

Tom is left in the apartment. He couldn’t necessarily say that he was by himself because he had Oscar and he had Tessa. And it’s Oscar that crawls onto his lap when he throws himself down onto the couch, head in his hands as he runs over every word thrown across the living room to the kitchen.

The cat brushes himself up against Tom, begging the man for a head rub and Tom does so without complaint – hand falling to the cats head. Usually, he would’ve grumbled about the cat... shoved him off and groaned but this time Tom gives in. 

Maybe it’s the guilt that suddenly turns him into a temporary cat person.

“She’ll come back, Osc,” Tom says, more or less trying to reassure himself then the cat. “She’s just going to Laura's for a bit.”

He chews on his bottom lip, fingers running through ginger fur.

You were going to come back. And until then, Tom would grovel.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad Take a sad song and make it better

Let’s talk about this chapter!

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[ships4you]

short lived touches || peter parker

Summary: (y/n) Stark deals with the death of her father and recalls moments shared him.

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader!Stark (I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, please let me know if there is any way I could make if better :))

Requested by: @imawriterthatsings 

Warning: cursing & WATCH ENDGAME BEFORE READING

I’ve decided to make this into two parts-- give me a hollar if you’d like to be tagged in part 2.

“(y/n) can you sit sweetheart I need to talk to you.” You looked up at your dad, who was anxiously waiting for you to join him at the kitchen table. Carefully putting down the dish you had just been so vigorously scrubbing, you sat down next to him, “Yeah dad, what’s up?”

You knew these talks all too well. You grew up with Tony Stark, Iron Man, as a father. If you had a dollar for every “I have to go save the world” and “Daddy might not make it home” talks you’d be rich as your dad himself. The last one of these was around five years ago--before the so called ‘blip’. He had called you over the phone leaving a voicemail with a quick I love you and I promise I’ll be back. And for the most part he lived up to his promise--he did come back, but you couldn’t help but feel he left a part of himself back on that planet. Even as a 10 year old, you noticed the sad look in his eyes when watching the news or the aimlessly wandering around in the middle of the night as if he were trying to run away from something or when he’d immediately disappear from any room when a certain teenager was mentioned.

You had met Peter Parker once or twice, but both times had been merely an introduction followed by you shyly running away to the safety of your room. The teen boy seemed nice enough, but you didn’t think he’d be around for long anyways. About two years ago, your dad explained what happened to Peter and who he really was. He told you everything about the fight and about his relationship with the boy. Ever since that night you and Tony became inseparable.

“Baby I found a way to bring everyone back.” he stated, gazing down at your hand that he kept tightly grasped in his. “And if I do this... If I help them there’s a chance I might screw up what we have here. With Pepper and your sister.” You leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek, “Pops if you don’t help save the world I will make sure to guilt trip you into doing the dishes nightly.” A smiled bloomed across his face as he pulled you into his chest, “I love ya kid, you set me straight.” 

“I love you too” you murmured into his shirt, “Just promise you’ll be home for dinner. Pepper’s teaching me how to make veggie lasagna.”

“Of course sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss your burnt lasagna for the world.”

“(y/n) could you get Morgan, it’s time for dinner.” you simply nodded at Peppers comment with a quick hum before going out to the front yard. Morgan was standing by the lake looking off into the distance, “Hey Mo c’mon your moms got dinner ready” you knelt down next to her hugging her small frame, “Your favorite, mac and chees-“ you stopped your sentence short and watched her arm raise to point at the scene taking place miles and miles away. A huge cloud of thick black smoke erupted from the land slowly enveloping a large ship that had been hovering over the Earths surface. You immediately knew that was where he was. You swiftly scooped Morgan up into you arms andjogged towards the house, “Pepper!” you yelled. You walked past her in the doorway whispering, “Look outside”

Within five minutes Pepper had ran back in, got her ‘suit’ and left. Not before mumbling her apologies and giving Morgan a loving kiss on the head. She had squeezed your hand promising to go get him and be back before you knew it. After dinner, you tucked Morgan into bed, whispering comforting words, and proceeded to sit on the couch—waiting. Around 3am you found Happy walking into your home much to your surprise. You quickly carried your half-asleep step-sister to the car as he drove off. When you realized Happy was nearing the local hospital your heart sank.

They directed you towards a room and you immediately recognized Peppers muted orange locks while she sat on the hospital bed. The sleepy girl in your arms recognized the presence of her mother and instinctively reached out to her. You handed her off to Pepper who hugged her child tightly, tears dripping onto Morgan’s hair. “Pepper... Where’s Tony?” you questioned looking around. The look in her eyes told you everything, “(y/n) I-“

“No it’s ok.” you felt your heart drop, “I’m just gonna go find some coffee.” when did it get so hard to breath in here, “and probably go for a walk.” you blurted before speed walking down the hallway. Your chest got tighter and tighter till it felt like your lung capacity was the size of a water balloon. Bursting through the doors you kneeled down next the planter, gripping its edge. “Hey, he-he-hey woah there are you okay?” You felt a hand clasp around your arm and one start to rub comforting circles on your back. You focused on the strangers hand—up, and around, up, and around, up... You took a deep breath in, finally getting the air you so desperately needed. His palm went around one more time while he mumbled, “Are you okay miss?” You glanced over at the boy immediately recognizing the familiar face. He did it. He really brought them back...

“Ya know Peter you should really find your Aunt I’m sure she’s worried sick about you.” you said quietly. He shrugged, “I had Happy get a hold of her,” he started to guide you upwards to try standing “poor guy has been running around all-“ he stopped, and started examining your face—trying to recognize any distinct features. “Sorry, do I know you?” he asked. Of course, it had been five years since he last saw you. He knew you as the 10 year old daughter that would steal her dad away from working to make chocolate milk. Now that you were his age, you were the one entertaining Morgan in the fine art of chocolate milk making. You held out your hand, “Oh right, (y/n) Stark. It’s been a while Peter...” he looked you up and down for a second, completely flabbergasted. Finally when he regained his composure he shook your hand.

“I guess the snap really messed everything up,” he said running his fingers through his hair “last I remember you were re-building a computer dressed as princess Jasmine.” You nodded sitting on the planters edge. “The snap changed a lot of things...” you said brushing a strand of hair from your face and holding back the tears. He wouldn’t have wanted you to cry. He would never had wanted to be the reason you were crying. If he were here he would-

“I guess you’ve heard then, huh?” Peter interrupted your thoughts, keeping you anchored to reality. You nodded, “Yea. No one has said it out loud but you can just feel it in their eyes ya know.” you sighed “Everyone has had this look of pity, like he’s the one that’s gone but it’s my life that just ended ya know? Like now without him I can do nothing and that is what will forever define me; the girl with the dead father...” you hadn’t even realized you had rambled on until you noticed Peter staring, not a pitiful stare, just staring. You mumbled a quick apology. “No, no-no- no don’t be sorry. I just, I get it.” he said scratching the back of his neck. “At school I was always the one that had his Aunt and Uncle coming to parents night—it’s something I made peace with a long time ago, but kids can’t seem to look past it.” he sat down next to you, “But now with my uncle gone, it’s just even more so ya know. I was still accepting my peace with him—heck, I still am. And now with Mr. Stark...” you noticed the crack in his voice at the mention of your fathers name. You tentatively reached for his hand, folding it into your lap. “Now without him I really don’t know what to do.” He started back up as you brushed the his fingernails, something you hand done with your father countless times when he needed to relax. In a way it calmed you down as well.

“(y/n)?” Peter croaked after moments of scilence. “Yea?”

“I know this whole situation is so fucking weird and we don’t know each other all that well but, well can I hug you?” you smiled sweetly at his offer and stood up, pulling his hand with you to guide it to your waist. He slowly sunk into the embrace pulling your hip closer to him and sliding his hand across the top of your back. You looped your arms around his shoulders, pressing the side of your cheek again the hard bone.

“Thank you Peter.”

“Anytime (y/n).”

[video-killed-the-radio-host]

Father Dearest

With the help of the ever amazing @acealex-blueiguana , we wrote some angst about Cecil’s not very nice father.

TW: racism against Carlos, homophobia, deadnaming, misgendering

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Cecil puts the phone down, his face paler than usual. He leans on the counter and presses a hand over his mouth.

Carlos looks up from his work at the table. "Cecil? What is it?" He stands. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Cecil turns, burying his face in Carlos's shoulder.

"Love, I need you to talk to me." Carlos says softly, rubbing Cecil's back.

Cecil picks up his head. "My father is coming over for dinner." He whispers.

"I thought your father was dead?"

Cecil shakes his head but doesn't look up. "No. I wish I could say he was though."

"Maybe he wants to make amends?"

"You really think so?"

"We shouldn't rule it out."

Cecil nods but doesn't look convinced. He lets out a soft sigh and looks away. "Michael will be home soon."

"What are we going to tell your father?"

"It's none of his damn business!" Cecil snaps before taking a breath. "I'm sorry." He whispers. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." Carlos murmurs, cupping Cecil's face. "We'll figure it out. I promise." He turns as the door opens. Michael stands there for a moment, laughing and waving at presumably at Mika.

Michael walks into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him. "Home!" He calls out and carefully walks to the kitchen counter to lay his backpack down.

Carlos steps away from Cecil after giving him a soft kiss. "How was your day?" He asks,pulling open the fridge. "I'm thinking lasagna for dinner. What do you think?"

"There was a fight at school. Bet ya can guess at least one person involved." He smirks. "Whatever you make is always good. Still better than my house." The words come so easily. This is home to him now, but when did the change in his mind happen?

Carlos laughs. "Even Cecil's cooking is better than your house.'

"Hey! Rude. My cooking isn't that bad."

Carlos closes the fridge. "You made toast inedible."

"Maybe I like it burnt."

"Not even Khoshekh would eat it."

Cecil huffs a pout before looking at Michael. "Michael...um...my father is coming over tonight. I wanted to let you know."

The boy tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Your father? How did he even find you?" He asks before shaking his head and twisting his sleeves. "Do- um- do you want me to stay someplace else while hes here then? I can stay at the station or see if Mika will let me crash with them- theyre normally down for it…"

"I have no idea…" Cecil shakes his head. "No. This is your home and if he doesn't like it, he can leave." As much as he didn't want to admit it, having Michael there would help to keep him grounded.

"Okie dokie." He pauses. "Um… if you change your mind, let me know. I can get Mika to pick me up if needed… I'm not really the greatest kid, and I dont wanna cause problems with your da- father."

"I'd rather have you here than him." Cecil says with a small smile.

Carlos puts the pasta dough and a jar of homemade sauce on the counter. "Do you know anything about your father?"

Cecil shakes his head with a sigh. "Never met him."

"Samesies." Michael says, trying to lighten the mood, before giving Cecil a hug. "We'll figure it out."

"Yes we will because that's what we do." Carlos smiles.

Cecil nods a little, wrapping his arms around Michael. "Yeah."

Unsure how to help right now, the boy changes topic to get Cecils mind on something else. "Mika was in the fight. They did good as usual. They also got suspended but promised they'd still walk me there and hang around until its time for us to go home."

"Who did they fight this time? And why?"

Carlos shakes his head with a laugh. "That kid is something else." He says as he starts to roll out the dough.

"One of the jocks on the football team. They threw food at Roger, so Mika threw a fist." He smiles. "Roger's okay. We checked on him before they got dragged to the office."

"Ah that means I'll be getting a phone call from a conflicted Earl later then." Cecil chuckles softly. "Oh well. I'm glad he had someone to stand up for him."

Carlos looks over his shoulder. "I don't condone fighting but i hope Mika kicked their ass."

"We both try to stand up for him, but Mika does a much better job." He nods. "They definitely kicked his ass. The dude didnt even know what was happening at first."

"I'm sure you won't have a problem with him anymore."

Carlos lets out a loud groan, making Cecil jump. "We are out of garlic!"

"Carlos it's not the end of the world."

"It's bad luck. My mama said that if you don't have garlic in your house when a stranger comes, bad things will happen."

"So get more garlic?" Michael offers. "Did you have garlic when I showed up?"

"Course we did. It wasn't fresh though…"

"I'll just run to the store and-" Cecil is cut off by the doorbell. He pales a little. "He's here." He whispers.

"Breathe, dad. We got this." The boy hugs Cecil tighter. "I'll get the door if ya want."

Cecil shakes his head. "No. I'll be alright."  He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders before crossing to the front door and opening it. He stared at the man on the other side of the door in shock. He looked just like Cecil, same deep eyes and platinum hair. He was lacking the winding tattoos though as far as Cecil could see. No wonder my mother hated looking at me. Cecil thinks.

Brian stands for a moment before crossing his arms. "You going to make your old man stand outside all night?"

Cecil quietly moves to the side, watching the man enter the house.

Michael grabs his bag off the countertop and slings one strap over his shoulder. "I'll- um- go put my stuff away…" he says to Carlos: his tone hinting at his growing anxiety. Visitors at his house always meant stricter parents than normal. After all, they have to save face and br the happy family the Richardsons claim they are.

He cautiously walks into the living room, doing his best to stay hidden and out of the way. He just has to make it to his room.

Carlos nods and puts a reassuring hand on Michael's shoulder before joining Cecil in the living room. "Hello Mr. Palmer. I'm-"

"Cecil you got yourself a maid?" Brian asks, looking impressed.

"I'm not-"

"Carlos is my husband." Cecil corrects.

"No. No son of mine is a fag."

Michael tenses at the word. "Not really your son." The kid, against his better judgement, mumbles under his breath as he's halfway across the room.

That catches Brian's attention and he studies the child. "You must be Michelle. The nice lady in yellow at the station told me about you."

"His name is Michael." Cecil says, shoulders tense. "And-"

Sensing that Cecil is about to ramble, Carlos speaks up. "Would you like a drink? Dinner is in the oven so we have about forty five minutes before we can eat."

"Got any whiskey?"

"We don't drink."

Brian cocks an eyebrow. "Since when? Last I heard you were a drunk and a whore." He snaps at Michael. "Get me a drink girl."

Of course she did. Lauren is just wonderful that way isnt she. Michael tries to brush off the sinking feeling in his stomach. He still has to put his bag away after all, so he ignores the request. Brian makes him feel similar to his Father, but Cecil and Carlos wouldnt let him hurt him. Right?

So Michael just grips his strap tighter and continues walking to the guest room. Theyve got forty five minutes to survive this "pleasant" conversation. He can manage that.

"Leave him alone. I'll get your drink." Cecil stands, grateful for the excuse to leave the room. He gets a glass of water but leans on the counter to collect himself. He hears his father call after him, something about not liking his attitude.

"Kids these days. To lazy to even listen." He looks at the Hispanic man he was left alone with. "It's bad enough my son is a fag but he settled for a mexican of all people?"

Carlos tightens his jaw and waits before answering. "I am not a Mexican. Not all Hispanics are from Mexico. I'm from Chile."

"I don't care what you are."

Michael flings his bag onto the bed. "People fucking suck." He says to himself. He doesnt want to go back out there, but he doubts Carlos or Cecil would be happy with him hiding away. So he snags his rubiks cube off the night stand and makes his way back to the living room.

"I'm not going to sit here and let you insult me."

"Well you're free to go back to the field you came from with-" Brian clicks his tongue. "Six bastard kids?"

"Here." Cecil interrupts before Carlos could answer. "All we have is water." That isn't the truth but his father didn't need to know about the bottle of wine stored away for a special day.

"Damn took you long enough. I see your mother didn't teach you anything about good manners."

"She was too busy raising two kids by herself."

"And what's your excuse with her?" He gestures at Michael.

Michael glances up at him before turning his attention back to the rubiks cube. It's the only way to keep himself from misbehaving. The click of the cube and the ability to keep his hands busy help his anxiety in a manner that doesnt destroy the sleeves of hoodies. Hes trying to swallow the growing pit of dysphoria, knowing that this evening will only make it worse.

"He's fine." Carlos sits down in a recliner as Cecil settles in the rocking chair. "You're hardly in a place to give parenting advice."

Cecil looks over, his face pale again. "Carlos…"

Brian shakes his hand and sets the glass down with a thud. "What you know about being a father? Besides the fact that you're supposed to throw sandals at them to shut them up."

The boy flinches at the cup and bites his tongue. He wants to say something. He wants to stand up for his dads, but hes scared. He doesnt know how Brian will react, and hes only just starting to heal again after being beaten by his own father.

"Is there a reason you're here or did you just come to insult my lifestyle?"

Looking away from Carlos, Brian looks at Cecil. "You'll do well to speak when spoken to boy."

"You'll do well to-"

"Why don't we change the subject?"

Michael keeps his head down, afraid of what might happen if he steps out of line. He's nearly done with solving the rubiks cube. Click. Click. Click. The sound near deafening when the conversation has silences.

"Fine. Straight to the chase then."

Cecil doesn't answer, pulling out his latest project and a set of knitting needles. He does look up when he feels eyes on him.

"Do you have any sense of manhood at all?"

"He could kill you with those needles." Carlos muses. "And I'd help."

Click. Click. Click. The boy smiles as he solves the cube. "Carlos?" He asks. Waving the cube at the scientist, he silently asks for him to shuffle before tossing it across the room to him.

Carlos catches the cube and looks at it for a moment before beginning to shuffle it. He turns it and shakes his head, shuffling it more before tossing it back. "There ya go."

"Some of us appreciate the beauty in art and take pride in what they make." He looks up at his father. "Even if it isn't what you want." He had a cold but sad look in his eyes.

"If it isn't good enough, toss it away and start over. That's common sense."

"The Chinese fix broken things with gold to show they are still beautiful despite being broken."

"Well last I check we are not Chinese. And we are to good for broken things. When something breaks, throw it away."

Michael scoffs at Brian's first words. That's what his birth parents did, but Cecil is different. "And you know all about common sense." He mutters as he works on the cube again. The kid knows he's not suppose to speak but cant help it. This dick is a moron, and hes lucky that Mika didnt stay for dinner like usual.

"Excuse me little girl?"

"You're good at throwing things away." Cecil whispers.

"You will not speak to your father that way."

"You cant call yourself that. You're just a deadbeat sperm donor." Michael snaps before he can catch himself.

"That is definitely out of line…" He mentally scolds himself. "Mika will find this amusing."

"You gave up the right to call yourself my father when you walked out before my mother and I even left the hospital." Cecil snaps, dropping his project to his lap.

"You haven't earned the right to have me be your father."

"You never even gave me the chance to try and be good enough for you!"

Carlos flinches at Cecil's words but tenses as Brian stands.

Panic and fear flood Michael's system when Brian stands, but the idea of him hurting Cecil forces himself to his feet. A giant on one end and a teen a little over five feet on the other. Brian is like his Father, but for some reason he doesnt feel as terrified standing up to him. "This is not your house. You do not get to talk to my dad like that." He growls.

Cecil keeps his eyes level with Brian as he stands, despite his heart pounding in his chest. Especially when Michael speaks.

Brian stops his track toward Cecil and turns on Michael. "You do not tell me how to deal with my son. I'm too late to make a decent man but I'm sure that can change."

Cecil stands and moves across the room, stopping in front of the older man. "I am not afraid of you, Brian Alexander Palmer."

Cecil barely flinches when a wide hand comes across his face.

"You do not get to address me like that. I am your father!"

"Abby was more of a father to me than you ever could have been."

Carlos manages to catch Brian's wrist before he can hit Cecil again. The motion causes Brian's sleeve to slip down a little.

Cecil's eyes fall on the marks on Brian's arms. The needle marks he knew all too well. I'm just like him….

Maybe Mika wasnt the best influence, or maybe they were the best one Michael could have.

As soon as Brian hit Cecil, Michael was reacting. He would gladly take pain if it kept Cecil safe. Rage immediately flooded the panic that was in his chest, and he throws the rubiks cube directly at Brian's head. "Asshole!" Michael yells. Hands clenched into fists; his body moving forward towards the bastard. Fight or flight. For once the boy chooses to fight.

Brian's head snapped to the side when it was struck by the plastic cube and he jerks his hand free from Carlos's grip. "You little bitch!" He brings his heel down on the cube, feeling it break under his foot. "I'll put you in your place since my worthless son can't seem to do that."

Cecil and Carlos react at the same time, rushing toward Brian as he lunges toward Michael.

Carlos manages to get ahold of the back of Brian's shirt but Cecil gets an elbow to the Face and stumbles back.

Too late to change my mind now. Michael's eyes dart to Cecil as he gets knocked back, but he stands his ground. Fists clenched, and eyes determined. He knows how to dodge and throw a punch. Hes not allowed to defend himself, but hes not defending himself right now. Hes defending Cecil. Hes defending his dad.

Carlos pulls Brian back towards him and away from Michael. "Not in my house."

Brian struggles against Carlos's hold. "The little brat needs to know her place."

Cecil picks himself up, nose bleeding a little but he didn't care. "You will not lay a hand on my son."

"My place is here. You do not get to talk to my dads like that." Murder in the boy's eyes.

"Where is your real family? Cause I sure as hell know this isn't it. Cecil's to dumb to keep anything alive more than a week."

"Out." Cecil says, voice shaking a little. "I want you out of my house."

"I came for dinner and we haven't eaten yet so I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

Carlos brings his free and up to grasp the back of Brian's neck. "You heard him."

"This is my real family. But you havent met everyone." His eyes hold fire as he stares at the bastard. "Trevor! Can you help? Please!" The boy yells, making sure the sheriff's secret policeman can clearly hear. "Be lucky Mika didnt stay for dinner, or youd already be dead. You are nothing but worthless scum. So get out."

"Who the hell is Trevor?"

"If you bothered to stick around, you'd know." Cecil couldn't fight the smirk as the door was flung open.

"In my defense," Trevor says as he makes his way toward where Brian was struggling in Carlos's hold. "I would have intervened sooner but I didn't want to spook you. Also I found cool lizard in the bush." The Secret Policeman stops in front of Brian. "I was wondering if I'd ever see your face again Brian. I haven't missed it." He punches Brian in the nose, causing a satisfying crack. "That's for hitting an upstanding member of our town." He then thumbs Brian's forehead. "That's cause you're ugly."

"I appreciate it, Trevs." Michael smiles. "Did ya get any pictures of the lizard?"

"Hold em for me?" Trevor takes Michael's hand and puts down a blue gecko with orange spots. "It's not poisonous. I already checked. I'll take this" He takes ahold of Brian's arm. "And be back soon."

"You better take your hands off of me! I have rights!"

"Night Vale doesn't work like the outside world and I'm sure you'll find that out." Carlos calls with a wave before looking back at Cecil.

His nose had stopped bleeding which is good but he still was shaken up.

"Hey" Carlos says softly. "It's alright. He's gone now."

The boy cups his hands to keep the gecko in his hold. "I'm sorry for not behaving and staring a scene… I didnt mean for you to get hurt…" Michael whispers. He made it worse. Maybe he shouldve stayed with Mika.

Cecil shakes his head. "I was dumb to think he would be a nice guy." He sits down and puts his head in his hands. "I'm sorry I let him in here. I should have known better."

"There's no way you could have known…"

"I should have known! And what if I turn out just like him? I already am like him…." He groans. "I should have known."

Michael plays with the lizard as he walks over to Cecil. "Hey…" He gently taps Cecil with his foot. "You're not like him. I can prove it. Do ya want me t list all the ways I already know you're nothing like him?"

"He has my face and…" he leans down and rolls up his pant leg, revealing the needle scars. "It's easier to hide on my legs. I'm no better than he is."

The boy ignores Cecils attempt to argue. Hes not shocked by the scars; Em had told him about Cecil's past before. Still playing with the lizard, he sits on the floor.

"You dont drink. Ya dont misgender me- not accidentally and never intentionally unless it's to keep me safe from Mother and Father. You dont snap demands at me. You're not racist or sexist. Ya see good in broken things, and you dont see them as just trash to be thrown away. You havent walked out on your family." He lists. "Ya never broke my rubiks cube before." He gives a small smile. "You let me play with Tic Tac which I know he wouldnt ever allow if they belonged to him. You're a good dad."

"According to Abby so was he until I came along."

"And yet...you made the best you could with a shitty hand and you didn't let it beat you. Because you're stronger than he is. You are not your past. And you are not him. You are better than him."

"According to my case worker, Mother and Father were good people before I came along. Does it make it my fault that they're not good people now?" He asks wanting to prove a point.

Cecil opens his mouth to argue but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the over going off.

"See? Even the oven disagrees with you." Carlos chuckles. He stands and goes to the oven to pull dinner out.

"I know this shouldn't bother me as much as it does but it's a...chain isn't it? Hereditary?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be like that."

"Theres no way you'll be like that. Carlos wouldnt let ya. You arent your father. Hes more of a sperm donor actually, and that doesnt determine how the kid will turn out. I dont know my birth parents, but I dont think I'm like them. I mean I wouldnt give up a defenseless kid and have them left in the snowy night only a couple hours of being alive. That's just a messed up thing to do." He pauses, taking one of Cecils hand and letting the gecko crawl onto it. "You already have shown that you're much better than Brian. You're a dad. Hes a deadbeat."

Cecil gives a small smile at the lizard before looking up at Michael. "It isn't often we switch roles." He says, his expression soft. "You're such a good kid."

"No, I'm a terrible child." He smiles. "Mika is so gonna have a field day when they find out I yelled and threw my rubiks cube at your sperm donor."

"I hope he's locked away when you tell them about how I let myself get slapped because they might go nuts."

"You didnt even flinch! I dont know how you did that! I flinched when he put his cup down too hard."

"I think I knew it was coming. I've spent enough time with pissing off Lauren to know when I'm about to get hit. Or stabbed. Or kicked. Or- yeah. I think you get the idea."

"I'm use to it too, but I still flinch. Even when m not gonna get hit, I still flinch. Its impressive."

"Tell ya a secret. I almost went into cardiac arrest. It's amazing I didn't."

"How about you stop talking about dying and come eat before this gets cold?" Carlos calls.

"I propose after dinner we watch a movie and try to salvage this evening. What do you think?"

"I couldve fought him. You and Carlos were quick to shutting that down though. Lame." He giggles and stands up, grabbing Cecils arm and trying to pull him up. "What movie?"

"I didn't want to risk you getting hurt. I can take more than you can." Cecil points out as he stands. "Coraline?"

"If I can knock you on your ass and slam Father into a wall with my ankle more sprained than usual, I think I could handle Brian." He huffs before smiling. "Okie dokie."

"I had never met him. I don't know what kind of damage he could do. I refused to risk your safety. And that's all I'm saying on it." Cecil says, hoisting Michael over his shoulder and depositing him at the kitchen table.

The boy squeaks when Cecil lifts him up and laughs when he gets dropped off at the table.

"Children. Settle down so we can eat." Carlos said,sitting the pan on the table. "Don't make me smack you both with a spoon."

"Uh rude."

"Oh hush and eat."

[countless-dreamsss]

Partners For Life: The Past

Summary: So I wrote this bc there was a question on my Quiz in my criminal justice class and what were the odds that their names were going to be Harry and Joey? Don't believe me?

Anyways, this is the first chapter of this story, meaning Harry and Joe are both in their early twenties. There's no Flash, there's no Iris, there's no Eobard, this is literally all mine.

Warnings:Mild profanity

Primary pair: Harry Wells x Joe West

Canon/Head:Headcanon

      *if you see any mistakes please let me know*

Harry threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing under the black sole of his boot as his tongue picked up the taste of freshly burnt tobacco from his tongue. He let out a heavy sigh. He leaned his head back against the brick wall behind him.

    “You’re late.” He said, lifting his sleeve and looking down to his watch as a dark shadow jumped down onto the dumpster, a metallic sound echoed through the alley.

    “It’s not really easy to sneak out of the house when your parents want to know what you’re doing every second of the day.” Joe said, jumping down and landing gracefully onto the wet asphalt.

    “Well then, I’m glad I’m important.” Harry smirked. Joe wiped his hands off as he approached the other male. “How was dinner?” He asked, his blue eyes meeting Joe’s.

     “Would’ve been better if you came.” Joe said with a smile.

     “That’s what she said.” Harry joked. Joe shook his head at the stupid joke before removing the bag he had on his back.  “I brought you some.” He said, taking out a container filled with lasagna.

    “Awh, you do care.” Harry said. Joe rolled his eyes. He waved his hand. “Hold onto it for now, please."

    “What did you make this time?” Joe asked, putting the food back into the bag.

    “Let’s go to our spot, and we’ll discuss it there, but I think you’ll like it.” Harry smiled. He placed an arm around Joe as they walked over to his truck.

    “Harry, how do you have such an expensive car?” Joe asked curiously as they both got into the vehicle. Harry simply shrugged.

    “I have my ways of acquiring the things I need.” Harry responded.

     The drive to their ‘spot’ was fairly long, being that it was across the city. Harry had an arm out the window, another cigarette in his hand. Joe was playing with the radio until he found a station that fit his mood.

    “How are your parents?” Joe asked.

    “Still alive.” Harry said. “Harry, I don’t understand why you don’t ju-”

    “Joe, we’re not talking about this agai-"

    “They still love you.”

    “No.” Harry said.

    "I love you." Joe said, although it sounded more like a question. The smile that on Harry's face made Joe feel at ease. To himself, Joe tried to guess the infinite possibilities of what Harry had in store. What could he possibly be hiding back at the place that Harry couldn't simply tell him on the way in the car. Joe chewed on his bottom lip as his hand reached for Harry's. "It'll be okay." Joe said. "I'm sure it will be." A chuckle that sounded more like a scoff left Harry's lips.

    "We'll see." Harry said. Joe's head turned to the window, watching all the people and buildings as they drove by.

    "I love you too." He said.

     Their hangout place was an abandoned building in the middle of the city. At 10 stories high, an open area with small offices and bathrooms scattered about every level this building was perfect for them. Harry, being very tech savvy and Joe with his creative ideas cleared out one of the higher floors of the building and did as they pleased with it. It was kind of like a studio apartment, but with many rooms. The kitchen was fully operable, the both of them had installed a dryer and washing machine in the bathroom. Harry had everything he needed here. He had no reason to go home.

    "Here.” Harry said, tossing over a device towards Joe. Quick with his hands, Joe caught it right before it could slip through his fingers.

     "What’s this?” Joe asked, looking down at it.

     “That, my good sir, is an earbud.” Harry said, putting one of his own into his own ear. “Put it in.” He said. Joe did as told as he put the food he had brought into the microwave for Harry. “Can you hear me?” He asked.

    “Yeah, crystal clear.” Joe said, amazed by how tiny the earbud was. “How did you-”

    “Not important.” Harry said as he took a seat at his desk.

    “What are we going to do with these?” Joe asked, walking over to Harry. Joe placed his hands on the older male’s shoulders and squeezed them as he caught a glimpse at the screen in front of them.

    “We are going to commit what police call theft .” Harry said with a grin. He took off his glasses and chewed on the end of one of his temples. ���I have it all planned out, and if I’m quite certain, it’s not really a robbery, just petty theft.” He corrected himself.

     “We?” Joe asked. “You know my father is a cop.” He reminded Harry. Harry nodded, his devilish grin growing wider.

    “I’m well aware of your father’s occupation.” Harry responded. Joe shook his head, letting out a sigh of disapproval. “And since when has that ever stopped you before? This isn’t our first time.” He said.

    “I’m assuming these,” Joe said, holding the earpiece in his hand, “are going to help us communicate.” Joe said. Harry nodded.

    “Exactly. I will be in your ear, and at the same time I will be the one snatching what we need while you keep the store clerk occupied.” Harry said.

    “That’s larceny, Harry.” He put an emphasis on his partner’s name.

    “That’s not the point, Joe.” Harry copied Joe's tone before turning his chair around. “We’re going to do this,” he said standing up, putting a hand on Joe’s face, “and you’re going to help me.” Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on Joe’s lips before walking over to the beeping microwave.

    “Harry, how exactly are we going to pull this off?” Joe asked. His eyes scanned the computer screen that was full of blueprints of the building and Harry’s notes. “What if we get caught?”

    “I have it all under control, Joe. There’s nothing to worry about.” He said.

    “No." Joe shook his head. "What if we get caught?" Joe repeated, turning to catch a glimpse of Harry with a mouthful of lasagna in his mouth.

    “We won’t.” Harry managed to say as he chewed, “if we do,” he swallowed before running his tongue over his lips, “we shoot.”

    “We shoot?” Joe’s eyes widened. “No the hell we’re not."

    "Uhm, yes the fuck we are." Harry nodded.

    "Har-"

    "Listen," Harry said, placing the food down on the desk once he had stepped closer to Joe. "I'm well aware that your father is a cop, but I have this under control. I promise. I just need you to trust me on this." The two looked into each other's eyes. Harry saw fear while Joe saw a sense of uncertainty. The younger male sighed before running a thumb across the corner of Harry's lips.

    "No killing." Joe said. Harry put his hands on his hips as he knew those words were going to come out of his mouth. "No weapons either." He said, and Harry's head shot up.

    "That's not safe at all." Harry responded. “If we get caught-"

    “You said we wouldn’t.”

    “Joseph!” Harry took in a deep breath before exhaling. “Fine. Fine, no weapons.”

    “Promise?”

    “I promise.” Harry pulled Joe into his arms. The two held each other tight. Joe sighed before resting his forehead on Harry’s. “It’s going to be okay.” Harry kissed the side of Joe’s head. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

    Just hours before leaving, Harry explained his plan thoroughly to Joe, multiple times. Joe had easily picked up everything that Harry had put down. Repeatedly, he went step by step. He only had one concern: the weapons. Harry having a stash as big as he did for a 21 year-old, it was obvious to Joe where all of Harry’s money was going. Aside from going through their plan, Harry had also made Joe memorize the layout of the convenience store.

    “I’m going to have the truck out, at pump number fou-” Harry stared at Joe who was staring at Harry’s wall of weapons. He rolled his eyes before throwing a pencil at the younger male.“Joe-”

    “Babe, I heard you the first time you said it. I heard it the fifth time you said it, and now I’m hearing it again.” He responded. “How about you and I go there together, hm?” He recommended. “That way, I’ll have a feel of the store, and you can get a better idea of what you need.” Joe said.

    “We don’t need to go there, Joe. We’ve been there hundreds of times. If you know it, then explain it to me.” Harry said. Joe groaned as he stood up and walked over to Harry’s planning board.

    “So, I’m going to walk in when it seems the most empty, correct?” Joe asked. Harry nodded. “Then, I’m gonna ask where the bathroom is, once I'm there, I’m gonna clog the toilets and bring him in. That gives us at least 2 minutes for you to get what we need and leave.” Joe said.

    “And..?” Harry asked, crossing his arms against his chest.

    “And what?”

    “Precautions, you have to talk about precautions.” Harry said.

    “Fine. We both have to be wearing our gloves at all times. Can’t leave any footprints behind, meaning no dirty shoes, uhm...I have to stall the clerk as long as possible to keep him away from the cash register, and no guns.” Joe said, mumbling the last bit of information.

    “What was the last part?” Harry asked.

    “Keep clerk from the register.” Joe lied. “Oh also- if they corner us, split up and meet back up at the old flour mill on the edge of town.

    “Alright.” Harry nodded. Joe clicked his tongue against his teeth before returning to his seat.

    “How exactly are you going to break into the register?” Joe asked. Harry walked over to his desk before throwing a makeshift key into Joe’s lap.

    “With that.” Harry said. “This key, isn’t like other keys. The front of the key is made of what people call, memory metal, when heated, it’ll change shape, but once back in the right temperature it’ll be back to it’s normal form.” Harry explained. “I’m going to torch it for long enough that it’s malleable, but not melting. Once the consistency is where I want it. I’m going to put it in this,” he said as he held up a tiny tin can that was the size of a tic tac box. Joe held his hand out, returning the key to Harry who placed it into the box and back on his desk. “It should, fit right in, take the shape of the lock and then unlock the register.” He said.

    “What if it doesn’t work?” Joe asked, his leg shaking.

    “I’ll just break open the cash register. I’ll have my backpack with me.” Harry assured him, knowing his backpack literally had anything you could ever possibly need inside of it. Joe nodded silently. Harry squatted down in front of Joe and put his hands on his shoulders. “Look at me.”

    “Yes, Harry?”

    “It’s going to be okay.” He said.

    “Something just feel off.” Joe responded. Harry handed Joe keys to the truck.

    “Don’t worry. I already covered our license plates. Go start up the car, I just have to grab a few things and I’ll be down soon, alright? You go on your motorcycle, we’ll meet up there.” Harry watched as Joe grabbed his bag and his helmet before leaving the office floor. He hung his head as he let out a sigh before standing up. Harry walked over to his desk and took the M9 from his desk drawer and tucked it under his shirt against his back. To accompany the pistol, he placed two sets of magazines inside his jacket then grabbed the key, a mask and headed downstairs.

    Joe had taken his motorcycle, whereas Harry took a different vehicle, a much older model sedan. They met up a couple of blocks down before deciding to go to the store. Joe kept his helmet on until he had entered the Harry’s run-down car.

    “What are you-” Joe asked as he saw a flame torch. He sighed, before remembering. “The key?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “Do you have the earpiece in?” Harry asked looking over to Joe.

    “I do.” Joe turned his head to the side and tapped on it gently with his finger. He let out a sigh before turning towards Harry. “So, do you really think this is going to work?” Joe asked, tucking the helmet in his side.

    “Of course,” Harry said staring at the flames, “why wouldn’t it?”

    “I’m telling you, Harry. Something feels off.”

    “Joe, since we were in high school, we have done this what- 37 times? It’s been 3 years. How is this any different than the time from before?” Harry asked. Joe’s attention would switch back and forth between Harry and the flame. His head tilted a little, watching as the older was so captivated by it. Once he saw a grin pull at Harry’s lips, he knew he was caught. “Stop staring.” Harry said. Joe shook his head as he laughed. “I can’t help it, you look so concentrated.”

    “I’m not trying to burn my fingers.”

    “You’ve never worried about getting hurt before.”

    “Burns and cuts are two different types of pain, Joe. There’s a reason why God made hell with fire, not with razor blades and lemon juice.” Harry said. Joe opened his mouth to speak, but kept quiet. “Go to the gas station, I’ll follow soon.”

    “See you there.” Joe put his helmet back on before hopping on to his bike and driving away.

     Once entering the gas station, Joe had simply lifted the visor of his helmet and nothing more. He glanced around the store before walking up to the checkout counter. He eyed down the cashier, who couldn’t be older than 25. Name, Martin. Not much shorter than Joe, but his build was rather lean. Martin’s hazel eyes greeted Joe’s as his lips were forced into a smile.

    “Hey, is there anything I can help you with?” He asked. Martin’s attention had quickly shifted over to the helmet and the rest of Joe’s attire. “Motorcycle? Seems like a good night to drive one. Mine is actually out back. ” He said as he leaned forward onto the counter, using his elbows for support.

    “This kid talks too much.” Harry said into Joe’s ear.

     “It is actually.” Joe nodded, returning the kind tone before patting on his helmet to ignore Harry. “Not too bad to feel the summer night breeze.” He said, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

    “I just might after closing shop.” Martin responded. “It’s never too late for a nice long drive.”

    “Joseph,” Harry said into his ear, “get your ass into that bathroom right now.” Joe ignored him. “We can’t risk anyone else approaching the store, Joe.”

    “You should. It’s a great way to clear your head after a long day.” Joe said, smiling behind the helmet, but that smiley quickly changed into a pout when he realized he would be the reason for that long ride.

    “I swear to God, Joe, if you mess this up.” Harry huffed.

    “Yup, fifteen hours.” Martin nodded, his forced smile had grown rather soft.

    “Joe, are you really making conversation with the boy whose running the store we’re about to rob?” Harry sighed. “Hurry up and ask for the bathroom.” Harry’s jealousy could be felt from where Joe was standing. Joe let out a slight scoff, rolling his eyes under the helmet.

    “Uhm,” Joe said, remembering the task at hand, “can I use the bathroom?” He asked.

    “Sure,” Martin said. “In the far left corner.”

    “Thanks.” Joe said.

    “Thanks.” Harry mocked. Joe let out a heavy sigh as he followed the instructions to the bathroom. Martin watched as Joe disappeared behind the white door. “Do you have the tools?” Harry asked.

    “You know I do.” Joe said, quickly taking off his backpack and getting to work. Instead of clogging the toilet Joe simply lied saying there was a major leak. Harry burned the key for a little longer as he was parked outside the store. His eyes peered through the glass, seeing what was going on inside. He watched as Joe brought Martin into the bathroom.

    “Babe, I need you to keep him occupied.” Harry said as he placed the key into the tin can, put on his mask, and exited the car. Harry had taken this extra time to fill up fuel in both of their vehicles. He also, drenched a trail from one pump to the next, just in case things got hasty.

    “Already taken care of.” Joe grumbled as he held Martin’s unconscious body in his arms.

    “Where is he?” Harry asked as he entered the store, his breathing becoming heavier because of the mask. His eyes rolled at the sound of the bell that rang whenever someone stepped in. Harry was quick to make his way to the safe behind the register. Harry could hear some rustling and grunts on Joe’s end, then he heard a loud thud. “Joe?”

    “Unconscious.” Joe said as he stared down at Martin’s body. He picked him up and sat him down into a stall. Joe had made sure that Martin was in fact completely unconscious before exiting the bathroom and walking around the store. Joe took whatever looked appetizing to him and stuffed it in his backpack.

    “There we go.” Harry said as he inserted his key into the cash register. His ocean eyes grinned happily at the cash in front of him, and he wasted no time in retrieving it. Once the register was empty, Harry had turned his attention to the safe. He used a decoder to figure out the code for the safe. He smiled as the safe practically invited Harry’s desperate hands into the safe. He stuffed all he could into his bag before closing it up. And just as Joe was going to open up a bag of chips, he saw a couple of police cars pull up to the front of the store.

    “Fuck.” Joe quickly put back the bag of chips and ran for the bathroom. “Harry, we’re in trouble.”

    “Why what’s the problem, Joe?”

    “T-There’s…” Joe stammered.

    “There’s what?”

    “There’s cops outside.”

    “Joseph, if you’re fucking with me, I swear to Go-” The sound of the door opening cut him off. Harry could hear the metal cuffs hit against their belts. “How many?” He asked. Joe had switched the light off in the bathroom before pushing the door slowly, his eyes scanning the store. “Usually there’s 2 a car.”

    “I didn’t fucking ask for an estimate. I asked how many.” Harry scolded as he inched closer to the end of the register.

    “There’s 4, okay?” Joe watched as each one walked by. “I think I know them.”

    “Names?” Harry asked.

    “U-Uhm...Lee, Robinson, Michaels, and-” Joe’s heart dropped when he saw the last officer. “Dad…”

    “Dad?” Harry grumbled and rolled his eyes. “That’s fucking great.”

    “Yoohoo…” Officer Michaels said. “Anyone here?” He asked. The other three began to walk around, see if anything was out of the ordinary.

    “You think they forgot to close shop?” Officer West asked, looking in the direction of the bathroom. Joe’s eyes went wide immediately.

    “Oh shit. Oh fuck, H, we gotta go. We gotta go. We have to fucking-” Joe started to panic. "I think one of them saw me.” Joe immediately closed the door, he wasn’t going to risk getting caught by his father. His erratic breathing fogged up the helmet, forcing him to lift his visor. Harry listened to his hysterical partner as he tried to find the quickest and quietest way to get out of the store. With his back against the register, he used the glass walls of the store as his eyes. The police officers roamed the aisles in a pattern, gathering their desired carbs and fats for the night like sharks seeking for prey as they waited for the proper help.

    “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Officer Lee said as they stood outside of the bathroom door. Joe felt as if he was as good as dead.

    “Joe.” Harry warned.

    “I f-fucking heard!” He said as he stuffed himself into the same stall as Martin. Hearing the footsteps come closer to the door, Joe was not taking any chances. He had picked up Martin’s body and cradled him in his arms as he squatted upon the toilet. He kept a hand over Martin’s mouth as if it were his breathing that wasn’t meant to be heard. He was agitated by the way Officer Lee had taken his precious time around the bathroom. Joe’s jaw clenched when the lights were switched on.

    “It’ll be okay, just stay quiet.” Harry said, his eyes continuing to follow the officers around. Harry slowly reached for his gun as he watched the one officer enter the bathroom. Joe took in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut like he was in a bad dream. Successfully retrieving the gun from his belt, Harry had it cocked and ready to shoot, he just needed the perfect moment of when. “You might hear a loud bang, Joe.” Harry whispered, “don’t yell.”  He said, aiming the barrel of the pistol at the reflection of one of the officers.

    “Screw this,” Officer West shook his head in irritation, “I’ll just leave a $20 and we’ll go.” He said, pulling out his wallet. Meanwhile, Joe was eager to gasp for air the moment he heard the door close behind Lee.

    “What are you talking about, Harry?” Joe asked.

    “We done here, West?” Officer Michaels managed to ask passed the two twinkies inside of his mouth.

    “Michaels,” West sighed. “What the hell did I just say? Get your shit and let’s go.” He said. Harry was eager for their presence to be gone. Harry pushed himself against the counter as he heard Joe’s father step towards his direction. He heard him put place the bill down then walk away. This was perfect. Harry didn’t have to shoot his gun, and there wouldn’t have to be any interaction with the cops, right?

    “Hey, about those two vehicles outside? Who do you think they belong to?” Officer Robinson asked.

    “We’ll just run them in the cars.” West said. “Not an issue.” Both vehicles being under Harry parents’ name, he wasn’t taking any chances.

    “Get ready to run.” Harry whispered.

    “Run? Are you fucking crazy?” Joe asked as he gently put down Martin.

    “Keep your fucking helmet on and listen to me.” He said. Harry waited until all four officers were outside the shop.

    “Slowly come out the bathroom, Joe.” Harry said. He secured his hand around the duffel and tightened the straps around them. Joe obeyed without a second thought. He crouched as he exited the bathroom, making his way over to Harry. “Listen, we got to be fast when we do this, okay?” Harry said.

    “Harry, what’s in your hand?” Joe asked, staring at the pistol.

    “Joe-”

    “We said no guns.” He said, his eyes still fixated on the pistol.

    “Joseph! We don’t have time. They’re going to try to search our plates. We have to go.”

    “Harry, we said no guns.” Joe repeated.

    “We’ll talk about it later, babe.” Harry said. “Please, Joe?” He begged. Joe looked between Harry and the pistol.”

    “We said no guns.” Joe repeated once again.

    “Fuck this.” Harry said. He grabbed Joe’s arm before he aimed at the windows and shot both of them. Harry moved fast, regardless of having to drag Joe over to his bike. The cops, already in their vehicles were taken by surprise at the sound of the gun shots, not to mention the two bodies that darted out of the building. Joe was the first to jump onto his bike and drive off whereas Harry threw the bag of money into the car. All four officers got out of their cars, their weapons drawn in Harry’s direction.

    “Drop the weapon, and come out with your hands up.” Officer Lee shouted.

    “Such a cliche line.” Harry scoffed. He shot at one of their tires, inflating it instantly, but with the one shot to them, four came right back at him. One piercing through the skin of his upper left arm.

    “Fuck!” Harry yelled as he hid behind the gas pump next to his car. He bit his lip

    “Harry, what happened?” Joe asked, listening to the commotion. “Get in the fucking car and drive.”

    “I know what I’m doing." Harry said. He clenched his jaw and took a quick look at his arm before over to the cops.

    “Don’t do something you might regret, son.” Officer West called out.

    “Too late.” Harry said. “I’d suggest you all leave.” He said before removing the nozzle and spraying the gasoline God knows where. The moment the officers saw him grab a hold of the pump they all retreated to the one operable car they had left. Harry rushed into his car and shot at the trail that he made earlier. Both cars left the store in time before the flames reached the gas pumps, causing both to be set up in flames. The tires of his vehicle screeched as he came to a quick stop, catching sight of the fire with his own eyes.

    “Harry!” Joe yelled. “What did you do?”

    “I took care of it.”

    “Is anyone-”

    “N-No. No one is hurt.”

    “What about the kid inside?” Joe asked.

    “You’re really concerned about the fuc-...I’ll go back later.” Harry said as he tried to outrun the cops.

    “No. I will.”

    “Are you mad? You won’t be able to get-”

    “I’m sure there’s a back door.”

    “Joe, we’ll get the kid later. For now we have to-”

    “No, Harry. You get rid of the cops. I’m going back for the kid.” Joe said. Being a man of his word Joe turned his vehicle around. He looked into both cars as he drove by them. The flames he drove towards matched the frustration in all of their eyes. Following the plan he created in his head, Joe had entered the building from the back of the store. He didn’t hesitate to make to the bathroom, just to find a semi-conscious Martin on the bathroom floor. “All right, let’s go.” Joe said, picking Martin up.

    “You found him?” Harry asked

    “Yes I found him.” Joe replied.

    “Huh?” Martin mumbled. Joe took no time in returning to his motorcycle.

    "You're finally getting that drive after work." Joe said driving off.

    “When you’re in the clear come back to the building.”

    “Fine.”

    Joe had taken Martin immediately home, acquiring the needed information from his license before returning to their little hideaway in the city. Harry didn’t arrive until 3 hours later, returning to an unsteady Joe West.

    “Where the hell have you been, Harry!?” Joe said.

    “Running from your father?” Harry responded.

    “Don’t get smart with me, Harrison. We had a fucking agreement.” Joe said, taking off his boots and throwing them at Harry, both hitting him in the abdomen before Harry took a seat in his chair.

    “Do you mind?” Harry hissed at the pain in his arm he took off his jacket. The blood had drenched the rest of his arm. Joe’s attitude had quickly washed itself away with a wave of concern for Harry’s arm.

    “When did this-”

    “Before I blew up the damn gas station. Can you please get this damn thing out of my arm?” Harry asked as he looked down at the wound. Joe had retrieved all the tools necessary before pulling up a chair beside Harry.

    “You’re lucky it’s just a flesh wound.” Joe said, he handed Harry a wood spoon. “Bite.” Harry did as told before feeling the sting of alcohol touch his skin. Harry’s bite on the spoon had grown stronger as Joe went step by step to tend to his arm. From removing the bullet to stitching his skin back together. After wrapping his arm up, though he really shouldn’t have, Harry drowned himself in some alcohol to help with the pain.

    “I-I didn’t know you were a doctor…” Harry said. Joe raised an eyebrow and shook his head at him.

    “I think you’ve had enough.” Joe said, taking the beer bottle out of Harry’s hand. “Let’s get you to bed, Harry.” Joe said as he walked Harry into his bedroom, which was really an emptied out office with a bed. The both of them laid silently next to one another.

    “I fucked up big time, didn’t I?” Harry asked, turning towards Joe.

    “Very much I’m afraid.” Joe responded coldly.

    “Babe.”

    “Don’t fucking ‘babe’ me, you asshole. Someone could’ve gotten killed.”

    “But no one-”

    “I don’t care.” Joe said, crossing his arms as he looked up at the ceiling. “Disobey me again, I swear I’ll be the one to put a bullet in you.”

    “Whatever you say, Joe.” He said, fixing the blanket on top of him. “Whatever you say.”

[raendown]

A commission for @theintellectualweeb! Thank you, this was fun to write!

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 4837 Rated: T+ Summary: Izuna comes home to a kitchen filled with smoke and wonders, rightly, what the fuck. Since when does Tobirama cook? Since never, as it turns out, no matter how many times he continues to try.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Calamity Cuisine 

The first time Izuna came home to find their apartment filled with smoke he panicked, as any normal human would. He was the one with a habit of playing with fire, Tobirama usually the one to scoff and stay as far away as possible, so it seemed a logical conclusion that something had gone terribly wrong and the love of his life was in danger.

As it turned out, the only thing in any danger was his dinner.

Panic quickly gave way to amusement upon finding Tobirama standing in the middle of their kitchen with a baffled expression and both hands on his hips, glaring at the stove like it had done him a great injustice. The look was a familiar one. It was the same look he gave to all technology when it wasn’t doing what he wanted it to do. For a man with so many smarts up in his own head he did have an unfair number of troubles with anything marketed as a smart device.

“What…happened?” Izuna asked, not bothering to disguise the laughter in his voice.

“I’m not entirely sure. As far as I can tell I followed the instructions to the letter – although they weren’t as clear as I would have liked them to be.” Tobirama’s nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Oh? What was unclear? And what were you trying to make? All I can see is black smoke.”

Izuna waved one hand through the air, trying to clear a small pocket around him to breathe in, and he wondered why the smoke alarm wasn’t going off until he spotted it sitting on the counter in several pieces. That answered that question. He didn’t even need to ask why or how; he’d known his partner for long enough to guess where his logic had gone with that one.

“Kraft Dinner,” Tobirama announced, holding up a small blue cardboard box. “The instructions said to ‘stir occasionally’ but it never explains what it means by occasionally. Should I hover over the pot and stir every thirty seconds? Should I stir in three equal intervals?” Clearly frustrated, Tobirama tossed the box down and crossed his arms petulantly. “By the time I had decided what parameters to use for ‘occasionally’ the pot had begun to smoke. These things really should include more specific language.”

“Okay you know I love you. But. A child can figure out how to follow these instructions. Literally only you could mess this up.” To take the sting out of his words he clapped Tobirama on the back as he stepped past to open a few windows.

“Children cannot possibly figure this madness out.”

“They really can.” Izuna threw open every window that might be used to evict smoke and then started looking around for something to fan it all around with.

Still pouting Tobirama moved to help him. Izuna considered telling him how cute that disgruntled expression of his was but in the end he kept such observations to himself. Obviously he was already frustrated over this ridiculous little episode and there was no point in riling him up even more. No matter how curious he was about burning the noodles when obviously they would have needed water to cook in.

“How about we just order pizza for the night?” he suggested.

“I suppose so. That was not my plan but one must roll with the punches, as they say.”

“You’re talking like an old man again,” Izuna helpfully pointed out. His partner gave him a pinched look.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Better!”

The second time Izuna came home to a disaster in their apartment was less than a week later and before asking any questions he headed straight for the windows to let it all escape outside. On his way he ducked underneath the swirling black mass and spotted the new fire alarm he had just bought sitting on the counter in the same condition as the last had been – but he couldn’t find it in him to be angry. Not when Tobirama had the decency to look at least slightly apologetic.

“What did the instructions say this time?” he asked when he could breathe again. Tobirama cleared his throat but his answer still came out as an unintelligible mumble. Izuna grinned. “Sorry what was that? I didn’t catch any of that?”

“I said that I forgot about the food. Did you know the oven light goes off when it reaches temperature?”

“Yes. I did. Because I cook all the time.”

Tobirama sniffed. “Well…it’s a dangerous feature.”

“It alternates every minute so that you can tell it’s still at temp.”

“Ah. That is something else that I did not know. I may have gotten distracted by the new catalogue that came this morning. Do you think I could afford a new telescope? There was an ad for an incredibly powerful–”

Before he could really take off Izuna leaned over to shut him up with a kiss. “Not the time. What are you stinking up my kitchen with today?”

He got no answer but opening the oven told him all he needed to know. Well, almost all he needed to know. The blackened mess inside the foil tin could have been either a frozen lasagna or a frozen shepherd’s pie, the ones he kept in their freezer for lazy nights were about the same size, but it was hard to tell the difference after the whole thing had been burnt to charcoal.

“Must have been a riveting article you were reading,” he mused.

“Would saying sorry help?”

“Not if you don’t actually mean it.”

Tobirama nodded. “I’ll work on it. I am sorry the food was ruined.”

For once living on the bad side of town came with an advantage as Izuna was able to slip on a pair of novelty singing bass oven mitts, extract the ruined meal, then carry it across the living room and toss the whole thing out the window. He paused for a moment just to hear the satisfying crash of it landing in the dumpster below before returning the mitts to their hook and turning to give Tobirama the most judgmental raised eyebrow he possibly cook.

“Why has this happened twice?” he asked. ‘You’ve never shown any interest in cooking before.”

“I wanted to cook dinner for you,” Tobirama admitted stiffly.

“So why don’t you just cook the way you always do and order Taco Bell?”

He’d never seen Tobirama puff up with so much offense before. “I will not serve you Taco Bell!”

Nose in the air, he spun away and stormed off to their bedroom as though he’d been greatly insulted. Izuna tilted his head curiously but decided against following the man. Something weird was obviously going on but with Tobirama it was always better to just let things happen as they would and let the man get through whatever he wanted to. It was really only safe to stop him if he was about to hurt himself.

Usually if you stopped him without a better reason he would just turn around and find a worse way to achieve whatever it was he wanted.

As evidenced when Izuna came home several days later to find what looked like the entire contents of his fridge smeared around the kitchen. Nothing had escaped the carnage. Cupboards, countertops, floors, even the ceiling had bits of vegetables clinging to the stucco he’d always meant to scrape off and repaint. At first he thought Tobirama was just that bad at whatever he was doing in here but he understood the moment he took in the sight of the blender with barely a quarter inch of green mush sitting in the bottom of it. The disaster sort of painted a picture of its own from there.

“So. What’s today’s thoughts?” he called out. When Tobirama popped up from the opposite side of the counter with his face coated green it was a difficult call whether he should scream in terror or laugh under he split a seam.

“There was an accident.” Something in his partner’s tone had him narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“And then?”

“…and then I wanted to see if I could recreate the event.” Tobirama’s eyes panned upwards to the mess on the ceiling. “Our blender is much more powerful than I realized.”

Izuna pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply then breathed out slowly. “Should I ask what was supposed to be on the menu today?”

“My thought was to prepare the shakes you like to bring with you to the gym, although I wasn’t certain what recipe you use to make them. I found several online and most of them involved vegetables in a blender. Which seemed strange to me since it’s usually quite the battle convincing you to eat any vegetables but all the websites agreed.” He shrugged, the mess on his face sliding downwards like a comical theatre mask of sadness.

“Should I ask why you insist on continuing these kitchen adventure or…”

“Is there something wrong with a man trying to prepare a gift for his partner?” Tobirama frowned but his ire was exponentially less effective when hidden behind pureed vegetables. Actually in a strange way it just made him look more kissable, which was a little gross to think about.

Cleaning up the mess of blended food took three hours and Izuna refused to lift one finger to help. He did drag his favorite armchair a little closer so her could act as cheer squad and keep Tobirama from getting distracted. Only god knew what sort of oddities were going on inside his mind every time he paused in the middle of doing something and turned as though to act upon some new idea. Izuna was merciless in driving him back to his task, feeling absolutely no guilt for doing so. The mess was his fault, after all, so he should be the one to clean it.

Afterwards he gave in to Tobirama’s pouting and let the man flop over his lap while he watched TV. It wasn’t exactly cuddling by mostly people’s standards, better described as Tobirama using him for a glorified book rest, but to them it was an excellent way to spend time together while still entertained by their own interests. Just because neither of them enjoyed the same shows didn’t mean they couldn’t happily occupy the same space.

For a full week after that Izuna came home to a disaster free kitchen and he began to think that whatever madness had taken hold of his partner was finally passing over. Their evenings were quiet and the nights when he didn’t cook something for dinner he made sure to call out for delivery to arrive at the same time he knew Tobirama would be getting home, following his schedule like clockwork. It wasn’t until halfway through the second week that he discovered he had become complacent. Considering that he thought he almost deserved the shock of opening the door to find the bloody remains of an actual chicken spread out across their counter.

“Oh god, Tobirama what the actual fuck!?” Dropping the backpack he carried his work folders in, Izuna covered his mouth with both hands and spun away to combat the bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Fresh meat,” was Tobirama’s succinct answer.

“A little too fresh! Did you actually slaughter a fucking animal in my kitchen? What the hell!”

“You always complain the supermarket doesn’t have meat as fresh as you would like. I thought…” He trailed off as though it had only just occurred to him that there may have been a few flaws in his thought process.

Still facing away, Izuna tried not to picture more details in the single glimpse he’d managed to catch. There was absolutely no need for him to know which parts of that poor animal were where or how much blood was now contaminating his countertop. He wasn’t exactly squeamish at the sight of blood but a dismembered carcass was a little different from accidentally stabbing his hand with a mechanical pencil again.

“Either you’re going to need three bottles of bleach in there before I even think of cooking anything on those countertops or you’ll just have to replace the whole thing because oh my god Tobirama. Does it ever occur to you that maybe you should run these ideas by someone first to make sure they’re not crazy?”

“No,” Tobirama responded bluntly. His voice sounded like it was still coming from the same spot.

A little suspicious, Izuna felt the need to clarify, “You’re not actually still trying to chop up that poor bird are you?”

“Should I stop? It seems like such a waste now that I’ve come so far.”

It took a while to stop twitching but Izuna kept his calm by chanting how much his loved his partner over and over in his head. Without that he was sure he would have turned around, vomited, and then killed the other man. Only when he thought he could speak without screaming did he open his mouth – and then stopped.

“God, I hate it so fucking much when you win with logic,” he grumbled.

“Does that mean I may continue?”

“Yes, fuck, go ahead you psycho. It kind of would be a waste. Are you almost done or something? Can it go in the fridge after? Because I am not coming back in to that room until everything is cleaned up.” Without waiting for an answer he absconded down the hall and barricaded himself in their bedroom.

In the end he actually benefitted from this turn of events since keeping himself locked away kept him from getting distracted by Tobirama’s company as he so often did and gave him the opportunity to go over some of the reports he’d dragged home from work. It was several hours before the quiet little nest he’d made for himself was disturbed by a hesitant knock on the door and he realized that he had probably gotten more done in that short amount of time than he had all day at work. Not having to fend off constant interruptions was definitely a luxury he rarely got to experience.

“May I open the door?” Tobirama called through the wood. “I promise that I washed my hands. Twice.”

“With disinfectant?”

“Both times.”

“Yeah alright. But you better not be covered in blood!”

Tobirama was not covered in blood. He was, rather, naked from head to toe. “I guessed that any mess on my person would upset you so I threw my clothing down to the dumpster. Well, I tried. I believe it was the Lady Hyuga on the third floor who put her head out the window just in time for my bloody shirt to land on her face.”

Izuna howled with shameless laughter.

“Good! I never liked her. Her and all her family; there’s got to be a hundred Hyuga living in these apartment blocks and they’re all so stuffy.” He continued chuckling as he tried to imagine the scene she would have made.

“So you say. I also cleaned the kitchen. As instructed, I disinfected every surface twice.” There was a distinct note of pride for a job well done in Tobirama’s voice, like he expected a reward for following orders, and strangely the fact that he was standing naked without a hint of awkwardness only made it more endearing.

“Thank you,” Izuna told him. “Come here.” When he beckoned Tobirama stepped closer and bent down to receive a soft kiss as his desired reward.

When he straightened he looked back over one shoulder. “I considered trying to cook the meat myself–”

“Nope!” Izuna was up on the bed in an instant, hustling down the hall.

“I said I only considered it!” Tobirama called after him with undertones of offense.

After a quick inspection Izuna declared the kitchen clean enough, though he still had to rub everything down one more time just to make himself feel better about wiping off the blood. The meat he found tucked away in the fridge looking almost like any other store-bought cut of meat so he pulled it out and got started on a late dinner for them both. If the meat did end up tasting much better for being so fresh, well, Izuna was sure Tobirama understood the thanks he was offering when they went to bed that night.

Nearly a full month passed after that without any sort of cooking fiasco breaking up their daily routines. There were several attempts, multiple calls from Tobirama at various points during the day with strange questions that Izuna was certain would have led to certain disaster, but he was rather proud of himself for putting out any and all fires before they could really spring up.

Both of their brothers dropped by for a visit while he still had things under control and Izuna was happy to have a clean kitchen where he could whip up a meal delicious enough to impress even his cantankerous older sibling whose palette swung wildly between caviar or bust and whatever was rotting in the dumpster behind the closest fast food joint. Madara complimented him on his steaks and Izuna pretending that Tobirama had butchered those fresh too but decided he didn’t want to listen to the screaming.

Their family dinner was nice overall despite the two Senju brothers disappearing for nearly an hour and then reappearing by climbing in through the window. Hashirama had tears streaming down his face but he refused to say why so Izuna could only guess that he’d been terrified getting dragged up and down the fire escape. Although neither would explain where they had gone it wasn’t actually so out of the ordinary for Tobirama to get an idea in his head and drag some poor sod along by force to help him act on whatever crazy thought had occurred to him this time so Izuna let it go without thinking very much about it.

It wasn’t until another two weeks later that he realized he maybe should have thought about it a little more. Or, actually, that it was a good thing he hadn’t. Surprises were nice every once in a while as long as it didn’t involve his kitchen going up in flames again.

Walking in the front door to find a perfectly cooked and plated dinner of his favorite western meal, roast beef and mashed potatoes, definitely was not on the list of surprises he could have guessed at ahead of time. Suspicions and questions immediately rose up but he managed to keep a lid on them for the time being in favor of slipping off his shoes without looking away from the feast laid out on their kitchen table. Neither of them being very formal people, they didn’t actually use their kitchen table for eating very often. Mostly they sat on barstools and ate over the kitchen island. Today it seemed Tobirama had taken the time to clear everything off their dining table for a proper presentation, bottle of wine and all.

The image was only made more perfect when Tobirama skidded in to the room with the distinct look of someone who was hurrying to meet their cue. He was blinking wildly and his hair showed evidence of being wrestled down in to a more smooth style, though it still defied expectations by standing straight up on the man’s head. It just wouldn’t be Tobirama if he were perfectly smooth.

“Did you kidnap someone’s dinner?” Izuna asked. It was the only explanation he could think of for the appearance of such a well-cooked meal.

“No.” Shuffling a little awkwardly, Tobirama looked away with a pout. “Anija agreed to come over and cook for me since my efforts to do so on my own...were not yielding the expected results.”

“I must have just missed him in another elevator or something. Damn. This all looks amazing. I am suddenly terrified that I’ve forgotten some kind of anniversary.” Relief swept through his body when Tobirama shook his head.

Gesturing to the closest seat, Tobirama murmured that he should sit before disappearing down the hall again with a frantic light in his eyes. Only when he turned did Izuna finally look past the funny hair and the wild expression to notice that the man was dressed up. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had seen Tobirama wearing anything nicer than a clean t-shirt in the four years since they had met.

“What’s all this?” he asked when his partner came back in to the room.

“I was trying to be nice,” Tobirama huffed. “But I could never get it right. Dinner is- it’s tradition, I think. But Anija said that a nice meal means I should look nice and you do deserve nice things and–“

“Okay, okay, calm down. If you say ‘nice’ one more time you might accidentally crack a smile.” Izuna did just that in response to the prissy look he got.

“Just pretend I can be kind to you for one evening, if you please.”

Rather than point out that Tobirama did kind things for him all the time – in his own way, of course – Izuna shut his yap and let Tobirama pour him a glass of wine. His favorite, he noted. That was the sort of kindness he had come to expect before they even started dating. Tobirama was the sort of man who watched and learned and remembered, then he put those observations to good use by ordering Izuna’s favorite foods, taking him to movies with his favorite actors, switching brands when their new laundry detergent started leaving rashes on his delicate skin. His love was shown in little actions.

After the wine was poured Tobirama grabbed a paper napkin off the kitchen counter and brought it over, unfolding the one ply sheet and shaking it in the air like it was a proper fancy cloth napkin. Izuna stopped him before he could try and lay it out across any laps.

“Why don’t you just sit down and eat instead of trying to worry about every single detail? This is already amazing. Consider me impressed. Now eat before your food gets cold.” Izuna watched with amusement as his partner wrestled with the concept of not attending to every last detail himself.

“Fine,” he mumbled at last.

The food was delicious, though that was little surprise if Hashirama had cooked it, and the wine complimented their meal quite nicely. With the windows closed to keep the sounds of traffic muted and some kind of music playing at a low volume from their bedroom the evening actually had quite a lovely date-like atmosphere that they didn’t bother with very often as a couple.

Really the only thing that could be improved upon was Tobirama’s dinner conversation. Usually no matter where they were he could be counted on to chatter away about whatever he pleased, unbothered by the idea that someone else might overhear him and find his choice of topic offensive somehow. Now he sat ever so slightly hunched with his fork clenched tightly in one hand and most of Izuna’s attempts to start a conversation were met with distracted mutterings that didn’t quite sound the same as when he was lost inside his own head trying to work out a problem.

If Izuna didn’t know any better he would say his partner was worried about something.

“Are you alright?” he asked eventually.

“Yes, fine, all fine. It’s fine.” Tobirama continued to scowl down at his half-finished meal without even trying to make eye contact. Something was definitely wrong.

“Tobes–”

“Don’t call me that.”

Izuna bit his lip. “This surprise is great and all but you’re kind of worrying me. Are you sure you’re good?”

“Worrying you was not exactly what I had intended. This was supposed to be a nice evening for you. I can be nice!” Tobirama slid his own plate away from himself a stood up to pace an anxious circle around the table.

“Yes, I know you can be.”

“Well good. When you love someone you’re supposed to do nice things for them. Every magazine and article I’ve read says that and Anija agrees so I trust the majority consensus.” As he spoke he made another circuit around the table with his brows drawn together in an expression that could almost be mistaken for deep concentration by anyone who didn’t know him well.

Scooting his chair back, Izuna stood up as well to stop the other man in his tracks. “Hey. Stop. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re being…not you.”

“You just agreed that I can be nice, I’m doing a nice thing!”

“Uh-huh and you’re also rambling on about it when usually you like it better if I don’t mention anything. Please tell me what’s actually going on.” Izuna lifted his eyebrows and caught Tobirama’s eyes. They stared each other down until Tobirama wrinkled his nose and looked away.

Well versed in the surprising unpredictability of a man so set in his own patterns and routines, Izuna hadn’t even bothered trying to guess at the reason behind his partner’s behavior, not after how many times he’d been wildly wrong before. Conclusions he thought of as completely logical could usually be torn apart in three sentences or less by Tobirama’s oversized brain. So right now he just needed the idiot to talk; the suspense was killing him.

Still, he tried to be patient as Tobirama’s eyes darted everywhere else in the room but at him until finally he dug around in the pocket of his dark slacks. The theme of black on black he had chosen for his outfit did absolute wonders to make the rest of him pop. Izuna couldn’t wait to peel it all off him later.

“Anjia said if I wanted to give this to you then I should probably butter you up first. I think he was making fun of me but I wasn’t sure so I thought it was better to be safe than sorry.” Tobirama nodded as though agreeing with his own logic. Then he opened his hand and all the air rushed out of Izuna’s lungs at once.

The ring was modest and slim, clearly chosen to look more natural on Izuna’s smaller fingers. With a band of white gold and a simple braided engraving around the center it could not have screamed ‘engagement ring’ any louder unless someone glued a massive diamond to the top of it. Izuna couldn’t stop staring. And because he couldn’t stop staring he also couldn’t help but notice the very fine trembling in the hand hovering between them.

“I think you’re supposed to ask a question when you give me that,” he breathed.

“Right, yes, you are correct.” Tobirama cleared his throat and shuffled a step closer. “Will- is there a specific way I’m meant to phrase this? I think I should have done a little more research first.”

“Will you marry me?”

Both of them stared at each other in surprise after Izuna blurted out the question on both of their minds. The silence was only broken when Tobirama gave a little mewl of discontent.

“I was supposed to ask you that!”

“Well you were taking too long. So…answer me.”

“Of course I wish to marry you, I was going to-mph!” Before he could go off on a tangent about who should ask or answer Izuna cut him off again by throwing himself at the other man, arms wound tight over broad shoulders so he could drag himself up to Tobirama’s height for a deep kiss.

Hands settled on his hips to pull him in closer and Izuna was grateful when Tobirama bent down a little so he could lower himself from the tips of his toes. Under no circumstances was he willing to break their kiss yet. Not with so much unadulterated joy thundering against the inside of his rib cage. With no other way to express himself he held on tighter and kissed with everything he knew he wouldn’t find the words to say, hardly able to breath past his emotions and loving every minute of it.

It wasn’t until Tobirama pulled away to blink at him with concern that he realized he was tearing up.

“My brother can never know that I cried,” he demanded. Tobirama nodded solemnly in return.

“Understandable.”

“I love you.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

Laughing wetly, Izuna let his head drop against the middle of Tobirama’s chest. “Jerk. You’re supposed to say it back.”

“Ah. I love you too, of course.”

That was all he needed. Izuna closed his eyes and clenched his fingers, picturing what it would look like when Tobirama slid the ring on to his left hand. Not with a hundred guesses would he have thought this was the reason behind so many disasters in his kitchen.

Worth it, he decided. Tobirama would always be worth it.

[strawnarrries]

I need a part 2 to that cocky Niall one! It could be like they’re teasing each other in front of their friends or something and smut ensues? Please with cherry on top?

I made the original request for the Niall smut you just did. I wasn’t the one who requested part 2, though. Glad others liked it enough to ask for another part! Not sure what exactly that person asked for, but if you do a part 2, I’d recommend not suddenly making Niall cutesie and nice. Like he should stay cocky. Maybe he ignores y/n after their romp like all the other girls, so she confronts him about it, but then he somehow gets her on her knees for him again. Just as cocky and controlling.

Warning(s): sex and oral 

POV: 1st

Read part 1 here!!

Thank you both so much for requesting! I fr struggled with this one and idk why so I’m really sorry if it sucks! 

Also this isn’t proofread because imma lazy ass bitch

About a week had passed and I still couldn’t believe what I had done. It felt heavenly in the moment but now that’s it’s over, I regret everything. I still hated him but now I was one of his victims and for some reason, I wanted more. We hadn’t said a single word to each other since that day. Not that we were near each other 24/7, but he’s in my math class and I do see him occasionally roaming around the campus, yet we hadn’t spoken since. That’s why I’m upset and trying to get passed it because I know it was probably just a one-time thing. 

I hooked up with a couple guys to try and get Niall off my mind and see if maybe they could help me leave it in the past, but it didn’t work. Nobody could make me feel like he did. I always judged the girls who always hooked up with him but now I see why and I lowkey want to do it again.

I was meeting up with a group of friends today at Anna and Connor’s apartment. They invited a couple of us over for dinner. Anna and Connor were the lovebirds of our friend group. They moved into their first apartment together last year and have been stable and happy ever since. 

After getting dressed and putting on a little bit of makeup, I hopped into my car and began my quick journey to their house. Parking in front of their complex, I collected my belongings before making my way up the stairs to their home. I knocked on their front door and was greeted by a happy and enthusiastic Anna, “(Y/N), hi, how are you?“ 

“I’m good! How are you? I haven’t seen you in so long.” I teased because I literally saw her earlier today. 

“I know right.” she giggled and I stepped into her house, kicking off my shoes. 

The delicious smell of whatever they were making for dinner filled my nose. Their home looked absolutely beautiful, it was clean and gorgeously decorated.

“It looks beautiful in here. I’m so impressed with what you guys have done. You’re so mature for your age like I could never pull any of this off right now.” I giggled, my eyes scanning the room. 

“Awh, you’re too sweet.” she grinned as we both walked towards the living room where everyone was sitting and chatting. 

I said my hellos to everybody as I sat at the end of the couch next to Jackson. I rested my arm on the armrest and began engaging in the conversation they were having while dinner cooked in the oven. 

About half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Anna stood up and made her way over to the door while we all continued to talk. My attention was taken away from the conversation when I heard Anna say, “Hey, Niall!" My heart dropped and the butterflies in my stomach began to erupt. Why was Niall here? Please tell me there’s another Niall on the campus that I don’t know about. I felt my palms begin to sweat as I heard the door close and I saw Anna and Niall walk into the room. We made eye-contact for a split second before he looked away, not even acknowledging that I was there. Niall sat down on a chair that Connor pulled over for him.

"Why didn’t you tell me he was gonna be here?” I scowled into Jackson’s ear.

“‘cause I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was coming.” he snapped back quietly. 

I guess he was right, but some part of me wanted to see him again. We all continued with our conversation, climbing from topic to topic. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Niall, admiring all his features. His pearly whites flashing every time he laughed his adorable laugh, his eyes crinkling up. His blue eyes sparkled against the lighting in the house. We hadn’t said a word to each other yet and it was lowkey bugging me. All of the sudden, the oven beeped, telling us that dinner was ready. Anna hopped up and headed towards the kitchen and getting the lasagna out of the oven. 

“Connor! Can you help me?” She called. 

“Yeah.” he called back, standing up and heading towards the kitchen to help his girlfriend with dinner. 

The rest of us carried on with our conversation while we waited for them to let us know when dinner was ready. A couple of minutes later, they called us over to the dinner table. The plates and silverware were neatly set at each seat, the delicious-smelling dinner steaming on plates and bowls for us to grab whatever we like. We all sat down and of course, guess who sits right across from me. That’s right. Niall. Out of all the seats to pick he picks the one across from me.

We got situated and began to dig into the food. The sound of kitchenware clanking together and the occasional “can you pass that bowl” were the only sounds filling the room. Once we had all finished getting our food, we began eating.

“This is so good, guys. Reminds me of how my grandma used to make it.” Molly smiled. 

We all nodded, hummed in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” Connor grinned, “But honestly it was all Anna. I can’t cook shit.”

“I mean, ’m not gonna lie, he once tried to make me pancakes on my birthday and almost burnt down the whole apartment complex. Literally, everyone evacuated because the alarms went off.” Anna grinned. 

We all giggled, knowing full well that that’s something Connor would do. 

“I dunno what happened? I looked away for one second and all the sudden the smoke alarm goes off!” he defended himself. 

“That was an eventful birthday,” Anna giggled, mostly to herself.

The conversation began along the lines of bad cooking and fires. We all ate and laughed; just having a normal friend group conversation. Niall kept teasing me whenever he got the chance to throughout dinner and I decided that two could play his game. 

“Stop tryin’ t’ seduce me.” I teased after he winked at me and hummed a sexual innuendo in response to the story I was telling. 

Everyone giggled.

“’m not tryin’ t’. Unless ya want me t’.” he smirked. 

I rolled my eyes and took another bite of lasagna. 

“I thought you all hated each other.” Molly leaned over and whispered to me.  

“I can’t stand him.” I hummed back. 

“Oh okay,” she chuckled and I could tell she was still a little skeptical but I didn’t care. 

The rest of the night, he continued to tease me and I’d tease him back. The time had come where everybody had to leave. We all said our goodbyes and thank yous and then made our way to our cars. Unlocking my car, I glanced up and saw Niall. Our eyes locked and he gave me a quick wink before hopping into his car. Even though I could’ve sworn my heart had skipped a beat, I rolled my eyes and opened my door, getting into the driver’s seat. 

I slipped on my seatbelt and sighed. I groaned softly to myself as I reminisced the interactions I had with Niall today. I hated myself for giving into my temptations and doing that with him. I knew this would happen yet I still did it. 

Shaking it off, I turned on my car and made my way back to my dorm, jamming out with myself to the music on the radio to get Niall off my mind. 

***Another week had passed and surprise, surprise, Niall and I hadn’t spoken since. 

I was really hurt. I don’t know why this was affecting me so much because I knew this would happen, yet I still let him get to me. It was my fault though. I gave in to my temptations and now I regret it. 

I wanted to ask him about it and bring it to his attention. I was never good at confrontation and it always gave me major anxiety. But, I knew I had to do it if I wanted answers and not answers I just assumed. The problem is I just didn’t know when to do it. I told myself, “When the time is right, the opportunity will come up." 

I entered the lobby of our campus to pick myself up some Starbucks. As I walked in, I spotted Niall sat on the couch in the corner alone, working on something. I didn’t realize the opportunity would show up so soon. I took a second and debated whether or not I should do it, mentally giving myself a pep talk. I slowly walked over to him, my palms sweating and the butterflies in my stomach violently attacking each other. I stood in front of him and he looked up at me with those tantalizing eyes.

"Can I talk to you?” I asked, my heart beating at a thousand miles per minute. 

“Sure.” he hummed, setting his books down on the table in front of him.

I sat down next to him and positioned myself so I was facing him, glaring at him. 

“What?” he snapped, impatiently waiting for me to say what I wanted to say. 

“So you just gonna do me like me that and then never talk to me ever again?”  “What'dya mean?” he asked.

“Are you serious right now?” My temper began to rise, not actually believing he was going to act like this. 

He just gave me a look that said, “What?”

“You’re jus’ gonna act like we didn’t have sex." 

"No,” he trailed, “I know we did." 

"Then why haven’t you talked to me since?" 

"Um, yes I have. I talked to you literally a week ago at Connor’s." 

"Yeah, that’s it, you - ugh,” I groaned. 

“What da hell do ya want me t’ say t’ ya. I got nothin’ t’ say. We hooked up, ya just expect me to become yer best friend or some shit?”

“God, you’re such a prick. I can’t believe I let myself do that with you. I knew this shit would happen, yet I didn’t stop you." 

"Ah come on, don’t say that.” A smirk appeared on his beautiful, pink lips.

“It’s fucking true. I knew you’d do this.” I scoffed, “God, I can’t believe myself. I’m never doing that again.” I mumbled to myself mostly.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it." 

I rolled my eyes. Of course I liked it! And I told him that. 

"No, of course I liked it! That’s why ’m so upset about it!” I tried my best not to raise my voice. He chuckled deeply and I glared at him. He licked his lips before biting his bottom one. God, those lips. (Y/N) stop. 

“What’s there t’ be upset about? Ya got t’ fuck me. Not every girl gets that.” he spread both arms out, resting them on the couch ledge behind us, a smug look planted on his face. 

“Uh yes, every girl gets that.” He just chuckled. 

“Pretty irresistible, aren’t I?” he teased, “Got girls left and right in me bed. Once I gotcha I don’t need ya anymore and I move on." 

I couldn’t help but watch as his lips moved with every word that left his mouth. I imagined what it felt like to kiss those gorgeous lips and to run my fingers through that gorgeous hair. He finished speaking and I shook myself from my thoughts and thought about what he said, "You know how awful that is? You’re literally using girls like they’re toys." 

He shrugged. 

"God, I can’t stand you. You’re such a fucking dick.”

“Oh please, don’t fuckin’ act like you don’t wanna kiss me right now. I see ya staring at me lips." 

I didn’t say anything and just glared at him. He was right. I was using everything in my power not to kiss him. But damn, he was so fucking hot and his lips looked so soft and so kissable. The cocky smirk stayed on his face as he leaned over. His lips were inches from mine when I closed my eyes, feeling those soft lips mold against mine. Moving in sync, I began to let my mind wander to what he was capable of and how good he could make me feel. Pulling away from my lips, he trailed kisses along my jaw and to my earlobe. 

"I know ya want me t’ fuck ya again like I did,” he whispered into my ear, taking my earlobe between his pearly whites, nibbling it gently, “Want me t’ take ya from behind like dat, have ya cumming all over me cock? Hmm?" 

He let his hand slid into my inner thigh and under my skirt. He began feeling my wetness that was leaking through the fabric of my panties, putting pressure on my clit and rubbing it in circles. Luckily, there weren’t many people around, and the people that were around definitely weren’t paying attention to us. 

"Soaked fer me already, huh?" 

"Not here,” I breathed out, my voice cracking as I wrapped my hand around his wrist, my eyes continuously scanning the room to make sure no one was noticing.

“Know ya liked sucking me cock, having me hit da back of yer throat, yeah?” he continued on with his dirty words and I found myself mindlessly digging my nails into his skin. 

“Niall, not here,” I repeated, my breath hitching in my throat.

“Come t’ me car.” he hummed, grabbing his books and standing up. 

I followed him out of the lobby and down the street. We arrived in the parking lot where his black, range rover was parked. He quickly unlocked the door and tossed his bag into the trunk. He opened the door and we both climbed into the back seat. Closing the door behind me, he reached over the front seat and locked the door. 

He sat back in the middle seat, resting his body on the black, leather seats. Patting his lap, he murmured, “C'mere.”

I bit my bottom lip and straddled his lap. I cupped his face with my hands, his scruff tickling the skin of my palms. I pressed my lips to his lips, moving in sync with him. Taking a little bit of control, I plunged my tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth. He caught on and our tongues began to fight for dominance. His hands began to roam my body, landing on my bottom, squeezing what he could in his big palms. Soft sounds of approval fell from my lips as I kissed him. I melted into him, losing the battle and letting him take control.

“Grind yer hips on m-” he began before I started to grind my hips against his, “Dere ya go. Yer such a good girl." 

The friction from our clothed cores made electricity flicker through my body and my heart beat out of my chest a hundred miles per hour. His hands slipped under my shirt, running up and down my back, feeling the soft skin. I let my hands braid through his brunette locks, tugging at them gently. Moving his hands around my body and up my torso. He cupped my breasts in the palm of his hands over the fabric of my black bra. Trailing his kisses down my body, he pressed them all against my jaw and on my neck. Sucking and licking the skin, I hummed in approval. I let my head fall back and my fingers massage his scalp. 

"Take yer top off.” he mumbled, pulling on the hem of my light purple shirt.  

I obeyed him and crossed my arms, pulling my shirt up and over my head. Tossing it to the side, he slid his hands behind my back and unclasped my bra. He grabbed the straps and pulled them down my arms, tossing my bra with my shirt. My chest was now fully exposed to him. My nipples hardened at the sudden change of temperature. He licked his pink lips as he stared at my breasts, cupping them in his hands again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling. 

I felt his lips against my skin again, moving south before they were placed against the swell of my right breast. He wrapped his lips around my nipple, sucking and licking at it.

“Mmm, such pretty tits,” he mumbled against my warm skin. 

I hummed, looking down at the top of his head and watching his lips move against my sensitive nub. Nibbling gently, I gasped, my back arching slightly into him. He gave the same amount of attention to my other breast before moving his kisses back up to my lips. He moved them in sync with mine again as I began to grind my hips against his again. His lips were soft, almost like flower petals. They were sweet against my tongue and the smell of his manly cologne filled my nose. 

“Suck me off, baby,” he murmured against me. 

I smiled softly, trailing my kisses down his neck, pressing my lips against all his little freckles. He grabbed onto the collar of his white, cut out, tank top, pulling it over his head and adding it to the pile of clothes next to us. I tried to get on my knees but there wasn’t enough room to get comfortable with the driver’s seat behind me.

“Can you move the seat for me?” I giggled, sitting in the middle seat.

“Yeah,” he hummed, slipping his hand past the seat and pulling on the lever that moved the seat. He pushed the seat as far forward as he could so I had room to get on my knees. Luckily, I wasn’t too big and I had just enough room to sit comfortably on my knees in front of him. 

I slipped my fingers past the elastic band of his basketball shorts, tugging at them, acknowledging him to lift his hips so I could take them off. And that’s exactly what he did. He lifted up his hips and I slid his shorts, as well as his boxers, down his fit legs. His clothes were loose enough to get past his feet, I didn’t even bother asking him to take off his gym shoes. Once he was fully exposed to me, I dropped his clothes to the side and licked my lips as I stared at his throbbing member in front of me. Looking up at him, he was looking down at me, anxiously waiting for me to start.

I wrapped my palm around his shaft, pumping it. I slide my thumb across his red tip, spreading around his precum to make it easier. I began to kitten lick his head, taking it between my lips and sucking harshly. He grunted, threading his thick fingers through my long hair. Knowing that if I teased him too much I would definitely have to pay for it so, I went straight in and took him in my mouth. 

Beginning to bob my head, I looked up at him. He had his bottom lip trapped between his pearly white set of teeth and his eyebrows furrowed together as he watched me. I hollowed out my cheeks, the sounds of my mouth, his breathing and occasional moans filling the car. My panties were soaked with my arousal as I felt my tummy twist as I pleased him. 

Letting his lip pop back into place, he parted his lips, soft breaths leaving his throat. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the black headrest. Lifting up one hand, he ran his thick fingers through his hair, playing with the soft strands. I let out a hum and I felt his body shiver. Tugging on his own locks, his tongue slipped out to the corner of his mouth, dampening his lips. Releasing off of him, I licked up the undersides of him like a popsicle, my fingertips gently massaging his sensitive head.

“Jesus,” he moaned. 

I grinned softly, confidence overtaking my body. I took him back in my mouth momentarily, bobbing my head again. My lips were wrapped tight around his shaft, my tongue licking up and down as my head moved. With my right hand pumping what wasn’t in my mouth, my left hand was placed on his thigh, my nails gently digging into his soft skin. 

Releasing off of him again with a soft popping sound, I wrapped my pink lips around his tip. Licking up and down on his slit, I swallowed every last bit of the salty precum oozing out of him. I began to swirl my tongue around his sensitive tip and I saw his stomach clench. He gathered up all my hair and held it away from my face, squeezing it tightly as the pleasure rose. I pressed him up against the side of my cheek, rubbing his tip back and forth against my cheek. Pumping what wasn’t in my mouth, he let out a moan, “So fuckin’ sexy with me cock in yer mouth." 

I looked up at him and my eyes made contact with the beautiful blue orbs he had. God, he was so attractive. Those plump pink lips of his were parted, the scruff he had grown out complimenting his sharp jaw, and his beautifully shaped eyebrows were furrowed together. His bare chest was adorned with hair and sweat, his chest rising up and down with every deep breath he took.

I felt my jaw begin to get a little sore and a little tired. Coming off of him with a soft pop, I trailed sloppy kisses down his shaft until I got to his balls. Cupping them in my left hand, I used my right hand to pump his shaft. I gently began to massage his balls, looking up at him through my mascara-coated lashes. His soft, pink lips were parted and his eyebrows were furrowed together as our eyes locked together. I broke the eye-contact when I dipped my head down and began to press gentle kisses to the sensitive skin of his balls. I stuck my tongue out and began to draw patterns. Moans and hums of approval fell from his throat. His chest rose up and down, a thin layer of sweat coating his tan and toned skin. After giving his other ball the same amount of attention, my jaw had finally gained its strength again. 

Smiling softly at him, I traced his prominent veins with the tip of my tongue, all the way up until I got to his pulsing tip again. Taking it past my lips, I sucked on it like a sucker, swirling my tongue and hollowing my cheeks out.  

Deciding to take it a bit further and bring him to his orgasm faster, I released him from my mouth again and gave myself a second to prepare for what I was about to do. While my mouth wasn’t on him, my hands still were, pumping him vigorously. His hard length was coated with a thin layer of my saliva. 

Once I had mentally prepared myself, I relaxed my throat and took in his full length. My nose was nuzzled in the little patch of hairs at his pelvic bone as his tip hit the back of my throat. My eyes watered and I tried my best to hold back my gagging. A low moan rumbled from out of his throat and his grip on my hair tightened. Coming off of him, I looked up at him.

"Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he breathed out, pushing my head back down onto his hard member. Making sure to breathe through my nose, I took him in again, letting him hit the back of my throat with every bob of my head. Humming against him, low moans and groans fell from his lips. Since my hands were completely free now, I placed both of them on either one of his thighs, digging my nails into them, leaving scratches for later. The tightening of my throat when I gagged on him had him a moaning mess.

He tightened his grip on my head, so tight that I couldn’t move. Staying still with his tip just past my lips, he began to take control of my head and move t at his own pace. I relaxed my head and let him do whatever he wanted. Moving it up and down quickly, his tip hit the back of my throat with every thrust of my mouth he made. Tears began to build up in my eyes and my gag reflux was acting up. 

“Ya like suckin’ on me cock, yeah?” he smirked, “Like when I fuck yer mouth like this? Gotcha gagging on me cock. Bet yer soaked right now." 

He was so smug about it honestly made me want to smack him. But, god, he was so right. His dirty words had the pressure in my abdomen tighten and my panties soaked. I swallowed him down and my long nails dug into the skin of his thighs even harder. I looked up at him through my lashes and every time my head came back up, I saw him watching me. Pornographic moans left his lips, his face contorted with pleasure and sweat coated his handsome body.

Feeling my throat get a little sore, I whined and he let go of my head, his hips bucking up. I came off of him with a soft pop, swallowing any extra saliva and wiping my eyes quickly. I wrapped my palm around his shaft and took his tip to my lips again, sucking violently.

"Such a dirty girl, arentcha?" 

I hummed, licking up his shaft before taking him in my mouth. I pushed his tip to the side of my cheek, rubbing it up and down. Bringing it back just past my lips, I sucked on it again, swirling my tongue in every direction on it. My hand was pumping his shaft while my mouth worked on his sensitive tip, doing everything in my power to get him to his orgasm.

"Mmm, stop, gonna cum,” he whimpered, pulling me away from his member.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I grinned up at him. Snaking back up his sweaty body, I straddled his lap again. Pressing my lips against his, my tongue roamed his mouth, letting him taste himself. His hands ran up and down my body, feeling every inch. Moving his fingers south, he fumbled with the button on my jean shorts. After popping the button open, he pulled down the golden zipper and slide his hand into my pants. He pressed his thick fingers to my clit over the fabric of my light blue panties, beginning to rub it in circles. He moved them further down and began to feel how my wetness had soaked my panties, “Jesus, gotcha soaked t'rough yer panties, didn’t I?" 

"Mhm, got me so wet,” I murmured, “just for you." 

"Dat’s right,” he mumbled against my lips, giving my bum a good smack, “Why dontcha take these off fer me?" 

Rolling off of his lap, I sat down on the seat next to him, lifting my hips and sliding my shorts, as well as my panties, down my smooth legs. Now that we were both completely naked, I began to climb back onto his lap, but he stopped me, "Hang on. Gotta put a condom on." 

I mumbled and ’okay’ and relaxing back against the seat. He reached over and lifted up the middle compartment, pulling out a pack of extra large condoms, tearing off one and dropping the rest back in before slamming the lid shut. Leaning back in his seat again, he fumbled with the wrapper. Once he successfully got it open, he pinched the tip and rolled it onto himself.

"Lemme lay down an’ you can ride me.” he ordered, adjusting his body and beginning to lie down across the seats.

While he got comfortable, I positioned myself on his lap, straddling his hips. I grabbed onto his member and ran his tip against my clit and up and down my soaked slit, teasing both of us. Placing his tip at my entrance, I sank down onto him. I placed my hands on his hairy chest to support myself. I began to grind my hips against his and the pleasure immediately began to rise. He placed both of his hands on my hips, deepening my grinds. 

“Yer s'warm,” he moaned. 

I let out a soft whine, feeling as his veins ran against my tight, wet walls with every thrust. The familiar feeling of him in my stomach sent me to heaven. I dreamed of the day where we did this again. My grinds sped up and my body began to physically react to him. My muscles began to tense and my breath hitched. My body began to feel like jelly and I let it gently fall on top of his chest, keeping my hips grinding against his. I attached my lips to his neck, kissing every single one of his freckles that I could reach with my lips. 

He grabbed my head and moved it so it was hovering above his. He cupped my face and crashed his lips onto mine. Our tongues and lips moved in sync. I let my muscles squeeze around him and he moaned against my lips, “Mmm, do it again." 

I continued to let my walls clench and unclench around him. Curses fell from his lips and his hands fell to my hips again, his fingertips digging into my skin. The sweat began to bead on our bodies. I felt his warm breath fan across my shoulder with every breath he took and it sent pleasureful shivers up my spine. 

"Oh god, you feel so good,” I moaned, grabbing onto his soft hair and tugging on it. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “Tell me more." 

I continued to moan praises into his ear, feeling him twitch inside of me. My stomach clenching and my thighs trembling with bliss. I sat up, placing both hands on his hairy chest for support. Making eye-contact with him, I continued to move my hips against his. My breasts bounced with each thrust of my hips. He reached up and groped both my breasts in his hands, massaging and squeezing them. His fingers rolled my nipples between his calloused fingertips. 

I watched him admire my body. The hickeys defining his neck, his skin glowing and sweat beading upon it. His cheeks have flushed a shade of light pink and little strands of hair were stuck to his wrinkled forehead. His untrimmed scruff characterized his sharp jawline and his usual blue eyes were overtaken by a dark layer of lust. He was fucking gorgeous in my eyes. "Get on yer knees an’ I’ll take ya from behind." 

Obeying his words, I got off of his lap and sat back next to his feet before he sat up. It was a bit hard to move around since we were so crammed but we managed and I was soon on my knees with my ass in the air for him. 

Lining himself up again, he rammed into me and I let out a moan. Gaining his speed again, his hips smacked against mine. The only sounds I could hear was the cars and occasional voices outside the car, our heavy panting and the moans that spilled from our lips. The smell of sex and leather filled my nose. The car shook slightly with each hard thrust he did with his hips. The pleasure he was giving me had me seeing stars behind my squeezed shut eyelids. 

"s'good.” I mumbled, sinking my teeth into my forearm, not wanting to be loud enough for the people outside the car to hear. 

Gathering all my hair in his one hand, he tugged on it, making my head fall back. My breath hitched in my throat and I felt my heart skip a beat. The angle and deepness of his thrusts were heavenly. He let go of my hair, letting it sprawl on my back again. I felt my orgasm coming up and I knew it would seconds until I released. 

“Gonna make me cum, don’t stop,” I whimpered, digging my nails into the leather of the seats. 

“Do it, cum fer me.” he grunted. 

And a few thrusts later and he had me trembling with pleasure under him. The tight ball in my tummy had exploded and shot off into the clouds. I was taken over with bliss and saw stars behind my squeezed closed eyelids. Not even seconds later, I felt him twitch inside of me, signaling he had released. Our moans collided and filled the car. His moans were like music to my ears.  He slowed down his thrusts, letting both of us ride out our highs. 

The moans subsided and were taken over by our heavy breathing as we both came down from the clouds. He pulled out of me and sat down, letting his head fall back against the headrest. I sat up and did the same. I scooted next to him and pressed my lips to his again for one last passionate kiss before we began to get dressed again.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

"i know you can’t cook for shit so i’ve been bringing you dinner every night, just, y’know, to keep you alive" w/ hidge please i'd die and also draw you fanart of it

THIS WENT LONGER THAN I EXPECTED BUT IM HAPPY 

Here’s the fanart:

Her mother always said a girl had to learn to cook. Ofcourse, Pidge had insisted she had more important things to do, and she wasn’tpart of gender stereotypes anyway. Anyone could survive off of dinner invites,fast food, and microwave dinners.

Except she didn’t want to. When she’d been dating Hunk, he cookeddinner every night and made breakfast for them every Saturday. Her personalfavorite was his breakfast fried rice with Spam and breakfast sausages. Healways  let her sleep in and gave her acup of coffee when she woke up so she could join him to eat on the couch asthey continued whatever show they were binging.

They’d broken up on… somewhat amicable terms. She didn’thate him. And he didn’t hate her, at least she didn’t think so. She did have todrop off anything she had of his at the apartment he was rooming at with Lance.He still talked with Matt from time to time, but they worked together. Still,even Matt didn’t seem to be able to villainize Hunk.

It was a complicated breakup. They didn’t have time for eachother at all. Pidge was busy with school and work, exhausted by the time shegot home. That only made her cranky, and she’d nitpick at anything Hunk did ordidn’t do. She knew she was doing it, she just… couldn’t stop.

Then Hunk had met someone else through his cateringbusiness. He’d mentioned her as an offhand comment, a new acquaintance. ButPidge noticed he was on his phone more, that he didn’t bug Pidge to find morefree time anymore. Which on the one hand was good, but on the other… well notso much. She hadn’t gone crazy or anything. She didn’t check his messages orstalk his social media. But she noticed he was happier.

She asked him about it. And Hunk, who never lied to her, andswore he never would, told her the truth. There was nothing more than afriendship between himself and Shay. But he was ashamed to admit he had to becareful to keep it that way. That he’d nearly made mistakes in the times he metup with her. But he’d never acted on it.

Pidge had simply nodded, kissed his cheek, grabbed her keys.She claimed she was going to get a coffee to clear her head and energize herfor her studying. Which she did. But on the way back, she couldn’t stop thetears that had come out of nowhere and had to pullover. A cop had stopped forher, asking if she was okay. When Pidge explained she was just a littleemotional, the officer had offered to escort her home. Pidge thanked her anddrove home with a cop tailing her.

She’d gone into her home to find Hunk asleep on the couch,in the same spot she’d left him. She’d woken him up, tears threatening to spillall over again.

“This isn’t healthy,” she whispered. “I think… we need toend this.”

He’d protested, but Pidge made points out of their lack oftime, Hunk’s already wandering eyes, the fact that she knew she could beinsensitive when she was stressed. She didn’t want him to start hating her, andshe didn’t want to risk hating him. Not when she loved him so much.

And now, here she was, nearly a month without a singlehomecooked meal, attempting to make pancakes. It shouldn’t be this hard. Therewere instructions on the damn box, she was an engineer for crying out loud. Butshe couldn’t make a stupid fucking pancake.

She cursed as the smoke alarm went off again and stared atthe burnt piece of- God she couldn’t even call it a pancake- on the pan. Shesighed and decided if she and Hunk were supposed to be friends still, it wasokay to ask him to help her. Right? She needed food. Healthy food. Not KraftMac N’ Cheese or Stouffer’s one-person lasagna.

She bit her lip and grabbed her phone.

***

The consistent chiming of his phone was what woke Hunk up.He groaned and sat up, fumbling for his phone. He was a little confused whenthe phone showed “Katie” because he didn’t know a Katie. Except he did… he wasjust used to calling her Pidge. He unlocked his phone and scrolled up.

The last message had been about two weeks before when shelet him know she’d left a box of his things at the door. And he’d told her totake care.

Now there were more.

So uh, this is alittle weird… but I’m super hungry but…

There was a picture of something black and charred in a pan.

I KEEP BURNINGEVERYTHING!!!

Pls help me. I’mstarving & haven’t had a homecooked meal in weeks.

I just want somefucking pancakes.

Hunk laughed to himself, feeling something fond in his chest.He typed back, telling her he’d be there soon.

Thank. You. So much.

He smiled at his screen and shook his head as he got up toget dressed.

A half hour later, he was knocking on Pidge’s- Katie’s door,holding his breath. It would be the first time they see each other since theybroke up almost two months ago. The door opened and he saw Katie wearing anoversized yellow sweater and sweats, her hair pulled into a small ponytailwhile the smaller strands fell out messily. She looked embarrassed, and keptpushing her glasses up, only to pull them back down the bridge of her nose.

“Uh. Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey Pi- uh. Katie. Good morning. I was told my culinaryservices were needed.”

She grimaced and opened the door further. “You’ve beenwarned.”

Hunk laughed and walked in. “Come on, it can’t be that-Whoa.” He cleared his throat and took in the kitchen. There was a messeverywhere, and it smelled of burn… something. “You weren’t kidding when yousaid you burned everything.”

“Nope,” she answered. She looked over at him, her expressioncompletely blank. “Fire alarm went off. Twice.”

Hunk suppressed a smile, but failed because she nudged himand groaned. “Okay, well, first thing’s first,” he said, opening the fridge.“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping?”

Katie looked around as though the answer would be somewherein the kitchen. Hunk chuckled and grabbed his keys, nudging her gently towardthe door. “Oh this should be fun,” she grumbled.

***

Arriving at Wal-Mart felt… nostalgic. Hunk got a cart andPidge walked beside him, comforted by their height difference. While the carride had been comfortable because of horrible singing and laughter, being atthe store felt different. Pidge felt nervous.

“So how’ve you been?” she asked as they started for the backwhere the frozen things were.

“I’ve been okay. It’s holiday season, so everyone’s callingin for catering.” She nodded, recalling how busy he could get during theholidays. “I’m saving up to open a restaurant. They have an empty building nearthe optometrist you go to. So I’m trying to lease it.”

“No way,” she said with a smile. “Seriously? You can startthe restaurant there?”

“Well, I know a lot of chefs. Shouldn’t be hard to getwaiters and waitresses. I’m not missing much.”

“Hunk, that’s… really incredible, oh my God.”

Hunk smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. “You seem sohappy.”

“I’m happy for you! I know how long you’ve wanted to dothis, and it’s gonna come true for you!” Hunk held her gaze and smiledappreciatively. Pidge cleared her throat and chuckled as she saw a hat displayin the clothes section across from the food section. “Look!” She grabbed alarge sunhat with edges so wide they seemed to scream “Personal space please.”

“Oh boy,” he laughed, leaning against the cart.

“Put one on,” she said.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Hunk!” He chuckled and looked at her. “Well,” she said,putting on a southern belle accent. “You’d never believe what I heard Susan sayduring Sunday’s mass.” Hunk hummed and raised an eyebrow. “She said hercasserole was better than mine!”

“Don’t blame her none, Miss Katie, you probably burned yours.”

Pidge’s jaw dropped, and she swatted at his arm as shelaughed. “I mean you’re not wrong,” she said in a normal voice. “I love thesehats. They’re so ridiculous.” She put the hat back and gestured to a different aisle.“I’m done with frozen. I can’t have another Marie Callendar’s pot pie.”

“Okay, well, what do you want to eat?”

She sighed and shrugged. “It’s hard to want to make stuffwhen it’s just me, you know? Right now I just really want pancakes and hotchocolate. And like, I know the hot chocolate is just hot milk and the packet,but it still doesn’t taste like you make it.” She looked away and busied herselfwith boxes of cake and cookie mixes set out for Christmas celebrations.

A few seconds later, Hunk said, “Okay. So today we make chocolatechip pancakes from scratch. When you want to make something else, I can helpyou out again.” Pidge looked back at him, dubious. “Come on, Katie,” he said witha smile. “Get into the cart.”

“In the cart?” he nodded and she clambered in, cross legged.Without warning, Hunk began racing between the aisles, making Pidge gasp andlaugh nervously. “Whoa-whoa! Oh my gosh!” she laughed and held onto the sides,wincing as they narrowly missed a few displays. “Hunk, you’re going too fast!”

He came to an abrupt stop and she held herself in place,laughing breathlessly as she looked up at him. “That was never a problembefore.”

Pidge’s eyebrows went up, her cheeks reddening. She turnedand kept her eyes on him refusing to back down. “I’m hungry. Now is not the timefor sexual innuendos.” She sat and pointed. “To the chocolate!”

Somehow, the search of a few simple ingredients took themnearly two hours, and Pidge had forgotten she was hungry in the first place. Bythe time they got back to her place, it was past noon. But she still wantedpancakes.

Hunk began listing the different measurements andtechniques, but Pidge was just enjoying herself by watching the way he mixed.It was quick like he was barely even thinking about what he was doing. Heworked quickly with no mess. Pidge envied it.

He began to pour the batter into a pan, spatula in hand andPidge sat herself on the counter beside the stove. She was in charge of passingthe bowl of batter to him. She bit her lip and rested her head on the cabinetsbehind her.

“So…. Shay’s cool with you doing this?”

“Sh-Shay?” he questioned, looking over at her.

She smiled and shrugged, looking away. “Uh, Lance told meyou guys started dating.” Hunk pursed his lips and looked down at the pan. “It’scool. Just… don’t want to cause any problems.”

“Things with her didn’t… work out.”

“Oh?” Hunk chuckled and shrugged, placing a couple ofpancakes on a plate. He gestured for more batter, but Pidge didn’t notice. “Why?Did something happen?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, gesturing again.

She shrugged and swung her legs. “I’m just wondering. If we’refriends, we can talk about this stuff, right?”

Hunk sighed and stood in front of her, hands on either sideof her on the counter. “You’re supposed to be learning. Not gossiping.”

It was one of those rare moments when she was at eye-levelwith him. “Oops,” she breathed. Hunk smiled slightly and Pidge bit her lip. Sheprobably seemed nosy.

“She’s not you,” he whispered. Pidge looked at him in shock.

“But… you said-”

“I know what Isaid, Pidge.” She took a sharp breath at the sound of him using her nickname again.“But just because she was pretty…. That’s not enough. She was nice and funny,but a lot of girls are. But you’re…. You’re so insanely smart, and beautiful anddetermined and strong and…. No one comes close you. No one ever will. You were morethan just my girlfriend. You were my best friend.”

Pidge let out a shaky breath and gulped. She leaned forward,her arms over his shoulders and very slowly tilted her head. Hunk shut his eyesand leaned forward to meet her lips. It didn’t last as soft and innocent.

They’d been without each other too long. Starving for eachother. Pidge was shaking with how badly she’d been craving him. To hold him, tolean against him, to feel his warmth, his lips. Hunk’s arms wrapped around hermiddle, holding her tightly.

She only pulled away when she needed to breathe, forehead pressedagainst his. “I never should’ve let you go,” she choked past the knot in herthroat.

“And I never should’ve left.”