#it's fine though i have mac and cheese

[damianwaynerocks]

batfamily as things my friend group has said/done:

bruce, 21 years old: “someone needs to talk me out of adopting a 17 year old bc i’m about to write a letter to the court” “bruce have you taken your meds today” “that’s unrelated.”

alfred: “i’d be worried if stephanie started dating someone who did meth because then she’d start doing meth”

dick: had to be hospitalized for eating nothing but microwave mac and cheese for two weeks straight

jason: “sorry i didn’t answer your call, i walked in on someone getting murdered last night and i felt pressured to intervene. i’m fine though. like concerningly fine. do we think this traces back to my father.”

tim: “sorry to call you at 2am but can i talk to you about nuclear terrorism? i think i just discovered russia’s secret weapon” (she did in fact discover it when we saw it hit the news six months later. she will not reveal how she discovered it)

duke: “i also know when jason is off his meds because he starts asking people to buy him hammers”

stephanie: accidentally heart reacted to someone texting her that they got roofied

cass: responded to someone confiding in her that they think they’re an alcoholic with the 😟 emoji

damian: accidentally told papa kent that he’s his favorite grandfather figure because “the spot opened up.” (the original one died)

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

prompt 8 and 14 (shy readers first time) and moms bsf wanda

You Were Red and You Liked Me Because I Was Blue

Mom's bsf!Wanda Maximoff x shy!innocent!Romanoff!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, age gap relationship (W=35, R=20) W calls herself Mommy, use of pet names, W fingers R

A/N: I worked on this all day while I didn't feel good and I have a killer headache at the moment so if I missed any warning I'm sorry. I can't think anymore.

The air was cold, without snow falling to distract you it felt unbearable to be waiting for your ride back home for break. Unfortunately you mom was off on a work trip until 3 days before Christmas so instead her best friend, Wanda would be picking you up.

Normally Wanda would have also been preoccupied this time of year, but since her and Vision finalized their divorce and custody of the boys, Vision would be getting them Christmas break first.

You couldn't imagine what that must be like for Wanda. Suddenly after 10 years of family tradition she was alone again and Wanda being alone was never a good thing. You'd known Wanda for a long time. After Natasha helped take down the red room she'd taken you, the youngest widow on the ship under her wing. The day you gained Natasha as a mom, you also gained an aunt Yelena. You had always heard stories of the famous Black Widow that got away and you'd seen Yelena training with others the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. Though you know her now as Auntie Lena who eats Mac and cheese straight out of the pot.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you see the familiar red subaru ascent. Wanda pulled up with a smile as you opened up the trunk to set your luggage in before quickly getting in the passenger seat with a shiver. Wanda pulled you into her arms, your body instantly heating from her contact.

“Hi sweetheart. How was the flight in?” She asked near your ear, making your heart skip a beat as you pulled back, trying to calm your body down.

“It was fine. Better than having you drive five hours to come grab me.” You told her as you put on your seat belt.

“I wouldn't have minded a 5 hour road trip with you sweet girl.” You bit the inside of your cheek at her words, choosing to stare out the window as she pulled away from the airport.

With Wanda's help you brought your luggage into the house and headed to your room to finally lie down and stretch out. The flight was only an hour and a half and the car ride back was about a half hour. You had barley acknowledged Wanda when she said about her starting on dinner instead choosing to go shower and clean yourself up.

You'd been told that even though you're an adult your mom wanted Wanda there with you. She said it was so you could keep an eye on the other. For Wanda it was so you'd stay out of trouble and for you it was to keep Wanda company. Natasha knew what it was like for Wanda to be alone.

What you and Natasha didn't know though was Wanda had fawned over you since she met you. When Natasha first introduced you and Yelena you always hid away. A little mouse making little to no noise as you moved. Even your thoughts were quiet to Wanda. It was something she found solace in around you. She knew what had happened to you and the other widows. Though you were next step of perfecting what Drekovy wanted out of the widows, total control they had perfected and for you, the only survivor of your age group, an enhanced super soldier serum. It gave you all the same enhancements as Steve and Bucky, but you stayed small, unassuming so no one ever saw you coming.

“Y/N! Dinner's ready sweet girl!” Wanda called up as you looked over yourself in the mirror, the scars lining your arms, shoulders, chest. They were everywhere.

You took the stairs two at a time, hair still damp, but Wanda's cooking smelt too good to keep her waiting. She looked up from moving things from the counter to the dining table. Natasha always used to have these ‘family meals’ where her parents, Yelena, Wanda, Vision, and the boys would come over. They stopped happening when Wanda and Vision decided to get the divorce. A smile was on Wanda's face,

“I made your favorite. Help me move it over to the table.” You happily helped out so the two of you could eat dinner together.

As Wanda was cleaning up and insisting that you go relax on the couch and get a movie ready you watched her from the couch, forgoing a movie and putting on The Office instead. You needed the background noise because to you your thoughts felt so loud that Wanda must be able to hear you if you didn't have something distracting her.

As she finished up and sat next to you she gave no indication of hearing your thoughts which she often did to those around her. Her arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against her as if you were two magnets. You bit the corner of your lips trying to watch the show.

You knew Wanda was experienced obviously, she has twins. You on the other hand haven't even gotten the opportunity to kiss a girl or a boy or anyone because from the day you met Wanda all you ever wanted was her. You'd never tell her that though.

She was with Vision when you met her nearly 13 years ago. With everything that happened after that with Thanos and then defeating him without the loss of half the population you could just live life normally for the first time.

Wanda's hand found your thigh, rubbing gently as she watched the show, one the two of you have watched multiple times over the years. You enjoyed sitcoms like she did along with being introduced to reality TV which is just a guilty pleasure really.

“W-Wands…” your voice was barely a whisper and Wanda pretended not to hear you. Not even when you started squirming under her touch as her hand grew closer to your hot center. Her hand squeezed you as you let out a little whimper. “Wands…” you tried again, trying to be louder, but you couldn't. Once again your plea goes unacknowledged as her pinky brushes against your clit, your hands fly down to her wrist. She finally looks at you. You don't dare look at her.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She asks so innocently as if she has no idea what she's doing.

“W-Wands…I…you…” you fumble with your words. Her other hand reaches your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“What about us sweet girl?” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. She pulls you onto her lap, her hands resting on your hips. “Just watch the show sweet girl. Let Mommy play.” You felt like fireworks went off in your stomach. Sure you'd heard the boys call Wanda Mommy and yeah you'd heard her call herself Mommy over the years, but never in the tone she just used and never directed at you.

You felt like everything on you was burning except for Wanda's hands that were always cold and clad in rings. You did as told keeping your eyes on the screen until you felt her hand push past your waistband. Your hands once again grabbing her wrist, not because you didn't want her to, you really wanted her too. You were nervous.

“W-Wands…I've never…” Wanda moved forward, tilting her head to look at you.

“Not ever at college?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“N-not even a kiss…” you admitted. Wanda's hand leaving your shorts and moving to your face.

“These precious lips haven't kissed anyone else?” You shook your head, “So I'll be your first?” She asked pulling you closer. All you could manage as your heart pounded was a soft ‘mhmm’ before her lips touched yours.

As her lips meet yours, it's a gentle yet electrifying sensation, sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Wanda's touch is tender, guiding you through this unfamiliar territory with ease and patience. With each fleeting moment, you feel yourself melting into her embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

When Wanda pulls back, there's a brief moment of hesitation, as if time itself is holding its breath. You find yourself lost in her gaze, a mixture of emotions swirling within you – anticipation, vulnerability, and a newfound courage. Slowly, a soft smile tugs at the corners of Wanda's lips, her eyes sparkling with tenderness.

With a gentle brush of her fingers against your cheek, Wanda whispers words of reassurance, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. And as you lean into her touch, a sense of peace settles within you.

The night carried on without Wanda trying to slip past your shorts instead she kept stealing kisses late into the night before deciding it was time for bed. It was when you moved you could feel just how wet you'd before and you freeze, your thighs smacking tightly together. Wanda stopped, a tug on your hand.

“What's wrong sweet girl?” She looked back at you, confusion etched on her face.

“It…its..icky…” you squirmed and Wanda smirked, taking two steps towards you.

“Don't worry my sweet girl,” she tilted your head up, “Mommy is going to take good care of you.” Her breath against your lip, her voice sweet and thick with her accent, the one you heard all those years ago. Your legs want to turn to jelly.

Wanda wasn't expecting you to stay quiet once her fingers slipped past your wet folds, but you did. Little breathy moans, small whimpers, tiny pleas fell past your lips as your face burned and your eyes screwed shut.

“Don't close your eyes Detka. Look at me.” You could only obey with her voice sounding the way it did. You looked at her, she smiled at you and only picked up her pace.

You squirmed and felt like you were going to burst as you whimpered and tried to get away, but she held you there. You tried closing your legs, but she held them open.

“Open your legs Detka. I wanna see you.” Her nails dug into your thigh.

“F-feels weird…” you squeaked out.

“You're gonna cum for Mommy it'll make you feel better. Go on. Let it happen.” As if your body was waiting on her word, that coil inside of you snapped. Your back arched as your eyes rolled back. “That's a good girl…Mommy’s good girl.” Her fingers slowed down before leaving you. Your eyes closed but soon enough Wanda was helping you sit up.

“Water sweet girl. Take a few sips.” You did as told, knowing Wanda always knew best. When she felt you had enough she tapped your cheek and you let go.

She helped you clean yourself up, the cool towel feeling nice against your hot skin and then into pajamas which only consisted of an old band t-shirt of Wanda's and a pair of your panties. As she got the two of you settled into your bed, holding you against her chest. Her fingers moved through your hair as your eyes began to flutter she spoke,

“We're going to have a lot of fun until your mom comes home.” You smiled against her skin. You almost hoped she wouldn't be home for Christmas if it meant more time playing like this with Wanda.

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): nothing much, just rafe and y/n being cuteness, but there is a little bit of a serious talk !! omg rafe being kind ?? this is insane

authors note: this is NOT the end of the series of course. theyre just starting to become friends but obvi theyre gna become lovers with time. am i rushing this ?? idk cs theyve been frenemies since kids n now theyre js officially friends in part 4 like okay u guys move fast. mayb its my fault

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

you knock upon his door, your heartbeat thudding with each pulse as you anxiously wait outside his dorm. rafe had gotten back to you just hours after you sent him the message about the second tutor session, seeming to be just fine with having to spend more time with you after ignoring each other all week.

it just worries you a little about how this is going to go.

the door opens, revealing the blond boy himself. his tongue is pressed against the side of his mouth as he leans out between the crack in the door. his eyes are right on you, and he strands up straight, pulling the door open completely to let you in.

he’s standing there in some forest green crewneck with a white shirt underneath and some pants. in his hand is a small glass container full of what looks like mac and cheese and what you guess are steak bites with a spoon sticking out of it. he eats so much actual food instead of cafeteria food that you know that he’s gonna get his own place after freshman year and invest mostly in his kitchen for some gourmet shit that reminds him of home and some gym preps. that’s just so rafe.

you’re not surprised though that he doesn’t share any of his food with those in the dorm building with you guys, even just to sell them and make money. even though you know a ton of students would pay and kill to get away from the same rotation of food they’re usually served here. ‘cause it’s not like he needs the extra money anyway. his family’s loaded. so that is so not rafe.

there’s also a small smile on his face when he lets you in, but also like there’s just absolutely no thought behind his eyes. he looks stupid. but you think he looks stupid every time you see him.

you hesitantly step inside, still not completely comfortable in his space. or comfortable at all. it almost feels like your first time inside his dorm again, only with more tension than before everything. a month ago, you didn’t even think that was possible.

“so you’re failing english,” you’re the first to say something. you walk over to his desk like last time and carefully set your ipad on its surface.

“english isn’t for everyone.”

“surprised it isn’t for you after that little showdown in class,” you point out, turning to him.

he shuts the door behind him and locks it, then walks to his bed to sit on the edge, facing you. digging into his mac, he nods, “that was fun by the way.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. what is going on? one moment he’s not even paying you any mind but now he’s able to have a normal conversation with you. even say something kind of nice.

but then, you’ve been the same way in the switch from neglect to willingness.

“show me your notes,” you tell him, and he pushes himself off the edge of the bed to stand and walk to you. you watch him as he approaches his desk, controlling his laptop through his track pad.

he navigates through chrome and opens his documents like last time. he pulls up his most recent notes, which are in a folder with the title being the dates of this past week.

“since our first ever session, i started organizing my notes for class for every lecture per week,” he says, stepping away from the laptop to let you take a look at it. you go to sit in his chair to inspect his new notes, noticing the huge difference in how he takes notes now. “these five have been from this week for this class. so . . .”

as he trails off you can hear him eat spoonfuls and spoonfuls of his food, in which you glance back at him at the sounds of. but your focus is still on the notes, to tutor him.

you’re surprised that he’s gone to no notes to notes at all, let alone organized ones with folders, headings, dates, actual information, the whole shabang. has he been doing this for all of his classes too?

“that’s . . . impressive,” you say honestly, looking back at him. “but i don’t get it. if you’ve been writing down the lecture material then why are you almost failing the class?”

he shrugs, finishing his bite before swallowing it down to speak. “english isn’t for everyone,” he repeats himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his words.

you’re a little lost because literally none of this makes sense. “w— wait, so you . . . you take your english notes for about three weeks and whether or not you absorb the material, you boil it down to: at the end of the day you’ll fail because ‘english isn’t for everyone’? rafe.”

“y/n,” he says.

“why are you even in university?” you ask him, and you see his expression falter when he realizes you’re serious. “i mean like actually. we both left the outer banks to attend here but you’re failing your classes whether you do the work for them or not. it seems like you aren’t even trying. what’s the point?”

“you know, college isn't just about classes,” he tells you, and you cock your head in question. “it’s about the whole experience—making connections, networking, discovering yourself. it’s what i wanted to do from the start. plus, there are plenty of other ways to learn besides sitting in a lecture hall.”

you stare at him in silence. that doesn’t answer your question at all. “okay, but you aren’t learning, period. like lectures apparently go in one ear and out the other,” you say, and rafe only smiles as he looks down at his food, picking at it as he makes his way over to the edge of his bed again.

“i mean isn’t the whole point of college to get an education?” you ask him, your tone skeptical. “seems like a waste of time and money if you're not even going to try to pass all your classes.”

he gives you a knowing look when you mention money, but it’s almost like he doesn’t want to talk about about that. or need to. “to each their own, y/n,” he replies cryptically, and his expression is unreadable. “we all have our reasons for being here.”

a part of you understands where he’s coming from completely, yet another part insists that there’s still a way to balance both. you know he’s capable. he just needs some motivation.

“i think . . . you should have no reason to be failing right now, especially because of your improvement from last time,” you tell him honestly. “you should be making the most out of your already-paid-for classes anyway! you’ve written the work, you’ve been able to pass your exams, you said you needed to study last time i was here, you read a book assigned to the class and were able to debate with me on it. you’re fully capable. you just need a little push maybe.”

he grimaces. “are you gonna spend your time here to teach me how to learn?”

“no.” you shake your head at him, “i’m gonna spend my time here to just motivate you. you’ve spent all your time investing a great amount of energy and effort into your other classes. why not this one? thompson doesn’t need me to tutor you; he just wants me to help you in any way that i can.”

rafe is silent as you spin around in his chair to face him fully.

“we can work on our assignment together if you want,” you offer, but your voice comes out in a mumble, unsure if he’ll take it or feel off about the idea. “i haven’t finished it yet. this way, we can be in each others presence here, but not with me teaching you, but us working together at the same level.”

for once you can see in his face that there’s a little glint in his eyes. and he looks . . . hopeful. he nods. and you feel good about this, in some weird way—just working out things between you and him when for years it’s been nothing but tension. it’s almost like a weight off your back to know that you both are okay with each other enough to be friends. or kind of friends. or tolerate each other.

you twist your body and take his laptop into your hands, then stand from the chair to hand rafe his laptop while simultaneously taking his container from him. you set it down on his desk and cover it up for him.

“prepare for the worst few hours of your life,” you tell him as you pull up your class assignment, and you don’t need to look up to see the smile on rafe’s face. you can tell he’s holding back from it but it’s there. and there’s one on yours too.

after just an hour and a half of discussing, writing, deleting, a lot of questions, yelling, and finally completing all of your english work for the week, you get ready to head back to your dorm. it’s definitely late and rafe mentioned that lorenzo should be coming back soon and will wanna go to sleep right away.

with your ipad tucked underneath your armpit you push rafe’s chair in under his desk, then head for the door. rafe has once again offered you more water like before but this time the offer came with snacks from the whole drawer that rafe had organized in his bedspace. that guy has great taste in snacks.

“thanks for helping me out by the way,” rafe mumbles under his breath as he treads behind you, walking you out. you open the door and look back at him, in which his hand finds the door above your head. “you didn’t have to do it a second time but you did. i really, uh . . . i really appreciate it.”

“literally no problem at all,” you say as he pulls out some cash from his back pocket like he prepared it for you. you raise your eyebrows. “no it’s fine. i didn’t even tutor you today. you can keep it.”

“you still took time out of your day and helped me out so unfortunately it does,” he insists, then slaps the money in your palm.

you roll your eyes, stuffing it in your pocket as you turn around to leave.

“hey wait,” he says, reaching out to stop you but pulling away before he could make contact. he’s a little anxious as he goes to scratch his temple, closing one of his eyes as he thinks about it for a second. you stop and wait patiently, curious. “sorry for being so weird the other day,” he starts to say, but you’re already waving your hand to tell him it’s okay.

“rafe really, it’s oka—”

“it’s not,” he cuts you off, and you’re silenced from the look on his face. he looks almost defeated, or rather disappointed in himself. he can’t even look at you like he’s embarrassed of what he’s said and done.

he takes a moment to build the courage to communicate his thoughts, and eventually he knows exactly what to say.

“i was just having a rough day ‘cause i was just overwhelmed,” he says. you furrow your eyebrows, wondering what he means. it seems personal that you step back inside his room and shut the door behind you.

“then when i saw you here with enzo, it didn’t even cross my mind to think that you were actually here for me. since i wasn’t even in the room, i thought ‘why would she just be here?’ . . . it was just a lot of fresh feelings and everything was setting me off, including that. and i’m . . . i’m sorry, it shouldn’t have happened,”

“and i’m sorry for ignoring you for a week too. i thought we were just back to how things have always been, and to be honest, that made me upset too. ‘cause you’re really cool to be around. i guess.”

you frown at him. “i think you’re pretty cool too,” you tell him. “even though you piss me off. it feels kind of nice being able to talk to you like we’re . . .”

“friends,” he finishes for you, and you nod. he’s smiling. “that whole feud just to become friends after two hours of tutoring huh?”

your smile turns into a laugh as you nod. you had the same thought. “maybe it just means that since we became friends so easily, we were meant to become that in the first place instead of whatever we were,” you suggest, and rafe grins at you. your smile fades slowly as you stare up at him, “so friends?”

“whatever,” he says with his grin still, and he goes to shake your hand on it. you chuckle, pulling away from the handshake to push his chest, and you head for the door again. “i’ll see you?” he asks, following you again.

“i’ll see you,” you say as you walk down toward your dorm. when you take out your key, you look to the side and see rafe’s head peeking out from his door. he’s beaming, his smile open with his tongue pressed to the side. “goodnight,” you say, unlocking your door as you head inside.

“goodnight,” you can hear him respond as you shut the door behind you, and you spot aria sleeping in her bed already.

you place your ipad on your desk and approach your dresser to retrieve some new clothes. you plan on heading to the showers really quick to get ready for bed.

as you collect your clothes, towels, and shower caddy, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you slip out of your room to head for the showers, swiping up on your screen to see what’s going on. it’s a message from rafe.

‘ ik u just left like 15 minutes ago but my friends and i wanna go see this new coffee shop tmw and they play live music. just wanted to know if u would wanna come? ’

before you can reply, he sends another message:

‘ totally fine if not idk what our boundaries are ’

‘ u would like elara and lorenzo. they’re really cool ’

‘ i’ll pay for your coffee ’

you jump at the opportunity to reply back instantly.

‘ i’ll see u there !! ’

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa @lifeofleasaasa @ilyrafe @mkiverd @wxn-drlst

[bimb0fy]

— 03; i watched you change

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

warnings; kissing, angst at the end, dark!luke, choking, mentions of swords, swearing, violent tendencies.

summary; luke castellan was always a saint, it was a wonder how he would date a hephaestus girl over the dozens of aphrodite girls wrapped around his finger, he saw you, and he loved you for it. you'd be an idiot if you said you didn't love him to, but something was going on, he was. changing.

word count; 2.07k words.

a/n; a part is kinda inspired by that one scene of nate jacobs and maddie perez, yes the one where he choked her, also I am on my last stray since I finished, then tumble deleted the whole thing which I loved, alsooo uh sorry for the late upload i had so many exams :((.

masterlist!! | navigation!!

i. I love everything you do, when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do.

— high-school sweethearts, melanie martinez.

You smiled as you sat down at the breakfast table, your hair in a bun and your were still in your pj's. It was your day off so you decided to take breakfast, then snuggle up to your new boyfriend's, Luke, cabin.

"Hey mender." Luke said as he sat down beside you, kissing your cheek as you smiled, you took a bite of your mac and cheese, Luke's hand wrapped around you.

"So, tell me, how's the best swordsman at camp huh?" You joked as he smiled. You both took your scraps, placing it into the fire before walking off back to the hermes cabin.

Even though most of the Campers lived in the hermes cabin, it somehow was always empty during the morning, most people going back during either lunch or at the end of the day.

So here you were, on the bed with Luke's mouth latched onto your neck.

Ever since that night, Luke was addicted to you, the way you tasted, the sweet noises that erupted your mouth whenever he touched that one spot on your skin.

"Luke. You'll make marks!" You giggled as he laughed, slowly raises his head to look at you.

"Too late baby." He winked before rasing your shirt, pressing soft kisses to your stomach as you laughed. You playfully shoved him as he smiled, looking up and laying down beside you, moving his hand so you'd lay on his chest. "Fine. You win mender."

"No way, I beat the Luke Castellan?" You teased as he rolled his eyes, placing a soft kiss to your forhead before taking out a scrap book you had made and a Polaroid.

"Cmon let's get your first win into our amazing book of memories." He snaped a picture as you giggled, he smiled at the picture as he glued it on.

Her first win!!

Luke castellan gets beat up by a woman half his size. NOT CLICKBATE. CANON EVENT!!

Baby wtf.

Luke closes the book, taking the pen and placing it on top of the book as he turned back to face you. He watched as you traced soft patterns onto his hand. "I love everything you do. You're mine, and I love that."

He pushed your hair to the side to see your giggling face. You couldn't help but smile, kissing his lips. "I'm all yours."

He grabbed your waist, pushing you down onto the mattress as you groaned. "Luke-. I have to go to work."

"And suddenly my names work." He jokes as he hugged your waist, placing soft kisses onto your neck. You giggled before wrapping your arms around the boy. "You mean the world to me. You know that right?"

"I know luke. I know." You whispered as you played with his hair. You sat in silence, playing with his hair as he closed his eyes, falling asleep on your chest. "Ten minutes."

Luke smiled at your words as he hugged you tighter. "Thirty and you got yourself a deal."

ii. just trust me, you'll be fine.

— end of beginning, djo

Chris smiled as he passed by you. It was weird being the center of attention now, everyone needed to figure out the hot gossip about Luke Castellan's new girlfriend, and to their shock, she wasn't an aphrodite girl.

Everyone knew that Hephaestus' daughters were rather, boyish, only because there were very little, being surrounded by men in a job that most people would assume a man to do was well, difficult.

Luke saw you. He saw who you were. Not what your sibling saw, not what camp saw. He saw what he wanted to see, and that was all of you.

You sat down by the docks, the same docks of that night. You two would always meet up there to catch up and spend time together, but here you were, an hour later still sitting alone on the dock.

You started to give up, standing up to walk away but you heard Luke's faint calls. You turned around to find a man you almost didn't recognise.

The once shining Luke had eyebags under his eyes that were bigger than yours. He was wearing sweatpants and a tank top, yet you could see tracs of sweat around it. He wasn't out of breath so he hadn't ran, maybe he did, what was going on?

"Luke? Heavens have you been sleeping?" You asked him as he held your hands away from his face. He gave he a small smile.

"I'm fine." He rasped. You shook your head, holding onto his cheek as you looked at him. "Don't."

"Luke." you scoffed as he shoved your arms off of him. You had a pained expression on your face, hugging yourself with your jacket as you looked at him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking towards you, placing his hands onto your shoulders.

"I'm sorry I'm just, really tired." Luke muttered before hugging you. "And I'm sorry I was late, I uh, took a nap after training and lost track of time I suppose."

You hugged back, he quickly carried you which caused you to squeal as he set you down onto the dock. He smiled as he sat down in front of you, the picnic basket empty as he chuckled. "Someone was hungry."

"And someone was late." You giggled as he dramatically rolled his eyes, he smiled before taking your hand in his, looking out to the lake, clearly thinking about something. "Are you okay Luke?"

You waited for a response but he just stared out. You were starting to get worried, what the hell was going on? "Luke?"

"hm?" He said as he turned back to you. You could feel his arms tense around you, his breath hitched as you said his name. You needed to know what was going on.

"You know you can talk to me. Right baby?" You asked the boy who kissed your cheek before turning to the soft waves.

You didn't understand why he was keeping secrets from you, were you that bad? Were you not as supporting as you thought you were?

"I know mender. I know." He whispered in your ear as you melted into his grasp. A smile on your face.

He's fine, he says he's fine so he has to be. Right?

iii. Was it my August? Shit, I don't remember

— Gone gone/thank you, Tyler the creator.

"Where is he?" You asked Chris as he sat quietly, playing with his food. You glared at him, leaning onto the table as you glared at him, your eyes glowing orange, fire swimming in them.

Luke had been ignoring you for two weeks now, you had no clue if it was because you did something wrong, and if you did, you wanted to solve it.

That was until Max, your brother, had told you that he was giving Stacy Evans, aphrodite's prettiest daughter, extra sword fighting lessons.

"Hermes cabin bathroom." Chris muttered as you hummed in approval, walking off to find Luke.

Ever since your last interaction on the beach, you haven't seen him. Some would say you were worried, and if the right person asked, you were worried.

Little did you know, that Luke wasn't running from you. He was protecting you. From himself.

He did know how, how the he'll could everything about you agitate him. He hated it, he hated how every time he heard your name, he wanted to punch someone.

He hated how whenever he saw you laughing with your brothers, he wanted to smash your head against the wall, he wanted to hurt you.

He didn't know why. Why you out of everyone. You were a Saint, you were perfect to him, perfect for him. Suddenly, without warning now he's ignoring you.

You loved Luke, and Luke loved you, but now. Even at the mention of you, he wanted to stab you with his sword and watch you bleed.

You knocked on the door, hearing shuffling as you waited for him. Your eyes widened as you heard muttering coming from the other end of the door.

You barged in, finding Luke huddled up over the sink, clearly irritated by you. You glanced at the sword on the bathroom counter.

"What the fuck is wrong with you mender! You can't just barge into the men's bathroom." He spat out as you scoffed, you locked the door, walking towards him.

"What the fuck is wrong with me? What's wrong with you?!" You spat out as he let out an agitated sigh, clutching the sinks frame as his eye twitched. You shoved him to look at you, his breathe staggering as he stared at you.

"You know you're a real shit boyfriend you know! Missing out breakfast because im there, wow I mean. Master of communi-fucking-cation right!" You laughed as you watched his reaction. His eye twitched more, his mouth agap as he panted, he was controlling himself. He was on his last straw.

He wasn't even listening to what you were saying now. He was just trying to keep his thoughts at bay, he couldn't hurt you. If je hurts you, it was over.

"You really are your father's son huh?!" You spat out, that was all it took for him to lose his sense of control. He grabbed you by the throat, shoving you into the wall as he smashed your head against the wall, before wrapping his hand around your neck again.

He lifted you up, you kicked your feet as you tried to pry him off, stopping as he shoves you against the wall again, clearly agitated by the fact that you tried to pry him off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you. Don't you ever say that again you little bitch." He Luke spat. An evil laugh escaped his lips as he leaned in to face you. "You really are a pathetic whore huh. No wonder your mom left you."

Soft cries left your lips as he tightened his grip around your throat. You started to feel nauseous as you found it harder to breathe. Clawing at his hands.

"L...Luke..." You struggled under him, even though he was two times your size, even though you had no chance against him. You watched as the darkness in his eyes was replaced by realisation.

He let go, allowing you to fall on your knees as you sobbed and panted. The air suddenly returning to your lungs. Luke hovered over you, panting as he realised who was on her knees before him.

"Y/n." He breathed out, you shook your head at the mention of your name. He sighed grabbing a rag and before wetting it and holding it out for you.

You took it, holding it against the bruises that already formed.

He did it, he hurt you and he wanted to kill himself right at that moment.

"Mender. I... I." He didn't know what to say. You kept your gaze onto the floor as you cried. Unsure of what to do, what to say, as you rubbed the bruises. "Listen, I know you want to run of to Chiron and-."

"I won't. Don't worry." Your voice cracked as you looked up at him, standing up and walking to the door. But Luke's voice stopped you.

"Why?" Luke asked you as you shrugged. You hovered over the doorknob, sighing as you opened the door, leaving Luke alone in the bathroom.

He glanced at his hands, sobbing as he fell to his knees, he hurt you. He hurt you. He did the one thing he was afraid to do. The voices in his head won, he had lost you, the only thing that mattered to him.

He was weak, he allowed him to hurt you, he allowed this to happen. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, and somehow he messed it up.

You were special, not like the aphrodite girls who only cared about looks and who hooked up with who, most people saw him as Luke Castellan, most popular guy at camp.

In your eyes, he was Luke Castellan, another mediocre privileged guy, but he was yours, and you loved him for the good and bad in him.

Don't cry my child, it'll be over soon.

[dukecollinsbf]

gulp... darlin hcs... this is kinda long... i use he/they pronouns here. hes a cis dude in my eyes i just type they out of instinct.

hes called julius

mexican-asian! (their dad is mexican, their mom is cambodian. they were born in mexico but moved to washington when their dad got a better job opportunity.)

his dad has a teardrop tattoo and one of those "cut here" tattoos on his neck. he's also blind in one eye

their mom is beautiful but #evil. she always had her nails painted dark red

julius' favourite colour is dark red

he got 4 siblings!! hes the middle.

their older sister was the typical 2000s teen girl. ik yall are envisioning the hairstyle im talking about. she also brags about how she loved leopard print before it got popular.

also shes a kesha lover. now she listens to chappell roan. she IS casual.

as an adult, their younger brother works with animals! their older sister has an online job and their older brother is a mechanic. their younger sister is in college and julius hates her bf. the one sided beef is crazy. theyve never even met in person.

he did boxing as a teen and his little sister used to do dance

ik more of the fandom wants them to have happy childhood BUT NOT ME!!!!!!1

BOOM UR PARENTS SUCK!!

their dad sold their wii for drug money (am i projecting)

their mom is worst than their dad muahahahahah

they had a saint bernard called Pooch growing up and a yappy little chihuahua that his mom loved. that dog also refused to die. like im talking this dog got attacked by a bigger dog and had a tumor and got hit by a car and survived. by the time the dog died it had a leg missing and was blind. the vet bills were crazy

even tho their parents were shitty, they could never bring themselves to hate them even though they wanted to. when either of them would pass out on the couch, he'd cover them with a blanket and clean the living room and kitchen. when his mom would be upset, he'd sit and listen to her even tho she never did the same to him

he doesnt talk to his parents now and he makes jokes about what he went thru to cope, but he wonders if they're doing okay, if they got healed and became better people or if they passed away and they never knew.

the bond they had with their unempowered friend was the same bond asher, david and milo have. his friend was called trevor.

julius was trevors first kiss because trevor complained about feeling like a loser since everyone started dating around their teen years LMFAO

their first concert was a metallica one that they went to with quinn

they worked as a waiter for a while as a teenager and had a work bestie that was like 40

guyliner...........

I STOLE THIS HC FROM A FIC IVE READ IF YOU FIND IT PLZ LMK SO I CAN CREDIT!! but they worked in a fighting ring at one point

my own add on to the same hc: during this time, they had a shitty little apartment and the most decorated space was a dresser dedicated to their fish, soda pop. that fish was spoiled as fuck and he cried when soda pop died

he frequented a diner to the point the lady behind the counter knew his order beat for beat

when they were teenagers, asher took inspo from their style. they used to wear those little black wrist bands with the little spikes (do yall know what im talking about) and thats where ashers love for his spiked collar came from

they do not have a single pair of blank socks. they all have some sort of stupid design on them

also ofc, the rubber duck, courtesy of domini.

they hate haircuts

they HATE the grocery store. they get overstimulated and wanna die immediately.

best meal theyve ever made for themselves is mac and cheese. from those little boxes.

aggro bit them one time and theyre still upset over it

TATTED AS FAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and they have piercings GODDDD THEYRE SO FINE

they also have sharp canines (im bouta bust)

i know yall want asher to have heterochromia but i hc julius has it. HOWEVER! I hc asher has anisocoria (one pupil bigger than the other). they bond over having eye conditions

they also fell out of a tree in the middle of the woods one time and cracked their head open and broke their leg and had to limp home

the first ever scar he got was on his chin when he and his brother were pushing each other around (as brothers do) and julius fell and cut his chin open. its very faded now, but his brother brings it up somtimes

one time, out of boredome, he ran away from his brother at the store

his little sister would hide between clothes in the store and would need to be called for on the intercom

i have more. theyre my fav listener. all my hcs go to them.

[rip-quizilla]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 6

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Thanksgiving, idiots in love, and unwelcome encounters in the parking lot.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Content Warning! This chapter contains sexual harassment (grabbing at clothes, derogatory name calling).

Thank you so much @hellfire--cult for the adorable Converse divider🥹

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6

Thanksgiving Day, 1983

Eddie had a lot of things to worry about today, but right now he was most worried about whether or not the mac & cheese he’d slaved over all morning would taste like shit. 

His sweaty hands clutched the dish towel-wrapped baking dish for dear life and mentally rolled through all of the ingredients he had read on that clipping from the Southern Living magazine he’d grabbed from the grocery store. It wasn’t as if he’d never cooked before- he could make a mean grilled cheese, and if something came in a box he hadn’t found a way to fuck it up yet. This time, however, he’d been a little out of his element. 

Wayne had been excited to finally have a use for the casserole dish that had been sitting in a cabinet unused for so long that Eddie hadn’t even known it existed. Currently, he sat relaxed in the drivers’ seat of his pickup smiling smug as hell even though Eddie had assured him multiple times that he was not about to meet Eddie’s girlfriend… just a friend. 

No matter how much Eddie tried to hammer that point into Wayne’s skull, however, he still smiled that stupid knowing grin every time your name came up in conversation, as if he knew something Eddie didn’t. 

“You seem nervous.” Wayne commented, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead as he lazily turned the truck into your neighborhood. 

Eddie glared at the tin foil topped dish in his lap. “Well, I’ve never made this recipe before, I keep picturing everyone taking a bite and immediately spitting it into their napkins.”

Wayne snorted, shaking his head softly and guiding the steering wheel with one hand. “Son, it’s pasta and cheese. Pretty hard to mess that up too bad.” 

“Yeah, well…” Eddie harrumphed. “I’m sure I found a way somehow.”

Wayne smiled softly at his nephew’s smitten nerves, parking the pickup with a jerky stop at the curb of your house. “505, right? This is the one?”

“Yeah.” 

Watching smugly as Eddie stared out the window at your house, Wayne waited about four seconds before he asked, “Are you gonna get out of the car today, or…?”

Cue the sound of the car door opening and Eddie grumbling a sassy muttered retort of I’m going old man, calm down, or something along those lines. Wayne pretended not to catch it. 

You opened the door before Wayne and Eddie could even get to the door, and when Eddie’s eyes landed on you? His uncle could just tell. The smile that exploded on his nephew’s face was all it took.

“Oh here, let me take that-”

“No, no, it’s fine Ace, I got it.” Eddie reassured you, swooping the casserole dish away from your eager hands. He nodded in Wayne’s direction, directing you to do the same as he introduced the only family member of his that you’d heard of at all in your time as friends. “This is my Uncle Wayne.” 

Your eyes shone, welcoming and warm, and Wayne understood in an instant how you’d had such an effect on Eddie in less than a year. Since he’d started spending time with you, Eddie Munson had become the kind of young man who did his homework without being asked. He’d even gotten a job at the mall of all places and gave a portion of his earnings to his uncle to help with living expenses. 

None of the things Wayne had always loved about Eddie had gone away- the changes he’d seen in his nephew were all additions to a personality that he’d always known would take him far in life if he could just surround himself with those who brought out the best in him. People who saw that spark of Munson Magic and knew how to fan it.

Wayne could now confirm that you were one of those people.

He took your hand in his weathered and wrinkled one, pouring his approval of you into a firm and fatherly handshake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, young lady.” He gestured to Eddie with a conspiratorial nod. “Nice to put a face to the name, all he does is talk about you.”

“Brrrrr, it’s cold out here!” Eddie interrupted his uncle with a hand on your back to steer you away from Wayne and into the house. “Are you cold? You look cold, we don’t need to stand out here yapping when you’re cold.” 

You smiled, following Eddie’s lead but tossing a look over your shoulder at Wayne like it was a shared secret. 

Eddie had already met your parents, so greetings were warm and familiar once the three of you had reached the foyer. Wayne was introduced to both your mom and dad before your mom noticed Eddie had brought an offering for the table.

“Edward Munson, if I’m about to find out you’re not only a shoe designer but also a cook, I might just have to extend a standing invitation for all future holidays!”

“Shoe designer?” Wayne raised an eyebrow. 

You chuckled, pointing your foot out for him to see your white (now turned a bit duller from wearing them every day) Chuck Taylors, completely covered in idle drawings from Eddie’s inability to sit still. 

Wayne gawked at the artwork on your shoes; he’d always known that Eddie was talented, but this was the first time in a long time that Wayne had really stopped and looked at his nephew’s art. The detail, the use of space and composition- it was clear that Eddie knew not only how to draw, but he had an eye for how to make his art look like it belonged on its canvas. Even otherworldly monsters- sea creatures, dragons, demonic ghouls and ghostly images- looked at home on your well-loved high tops. 

“You drew all this, Ed?”

Eddie smiled shyly, nudging your shoulder with his own. “Ah, they’re just doodles. This one over here figured out I pay better attention in class when I’m doing something with my hands. Helps me listen better.” Finally, his trademark grin reappeared, shyness replaced with snark. “Now I’m the one helping her in class.”

“All the times I’ve had to kick you so you don’t fall asleep in O’Donnell’s beg to differ.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him. This brought a good-natured ripple of laughter from everyone in the room. You all felt it- the ease with which familiarity settled in the air amongst you. Eddie felt it most of all, since he wasn’t quite accustomed to the particular familial feel of it. 

He might have been, once. But it’s been a while. 

A second later and your mom had whisked Eddie into the kitchen to set his dish down on a trivet and sent him into the living room with a steaming cup of wassail in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other.

“There was enough food in there to feed an army,” Eddie said, bemused as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Does she know there are only five of us?” 

You toed off your shoes and let them fall to the ground before crossing your legs up on the green ottoman, fuzzied soft with wear from years of love. You leaned closer to Eddie, eyes fixed on his plate of goodies as you began to pick pieces of fruit and cheese for yourself. 

“Mom grew up with a big family,” you said, popping a juicy red grape into your mouth. “All the family recipes make enough for six at least. She could probably cut the recipes in half… but I think cooking all this food reminds her of home.” you smiled tenderly and shrugged. “We usually freeze the leftovers, but since you and your uncle are here I doubt we’ll even have to open a freezer bag. We’ll just send leftovers home with you!”

Eddie liked the sound of that. 

An hour or so passed before you all sat down to share your meal, and Eddie was amazed how quickly his nerves had dissipated in that time. The two of you sat cozied up on the couch, munching on fruit, cheese and deviled eggs. Your dad had offered Wayne a beer, and the two of them sat watching football in front of the TV until your mom gave the all-call for dinner. 

Everyone loaded up their plates, remarked on how good the food looked, thanked your mom for all of the hard work that went into today’s meal. This was quickly followed by a pointed thank you from your mother to Eddie for the “best mac ‘n cheese I’ve ever had” according to her. He was pretty sure she was just being nice, but he didn’t care. Her smile was still contagious- one of those ‘I love you no matter what’ mom smiles.

He’d forgotten about those.

He’d also forgotten what it was like to sit at a dining room table with more than three people. For a second, he’d been worried that you were all about to hold hands and pray, which wouldn’t have been ideal since all Eddie could remember about the dinner prayer was “bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts,” and he didn’t want to embarrass himself. 

But there wasn’t a prayer. This wasn’t a test he’d forgotten to study for, just a meal where Mom and Dad and Uncle were all happy he was here, happy each other were here. That was new. And when your dad asked Eddie how school was going, for once he had nothing but good things to report. He’d gotten a 95 on his last English test. For the first time since sophomore year, he wasn’t failing a single class. And when your dad said “Glad to hear you’re doing well, son.” Eddie felt you squeeze his thigh lightly, just above his knee. He saw Wayne smiling proudly out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie could get used to this. 

Conversation flowed easily in your family; no one felt the need to talk about the weather or ask arbitrary questions, and thankfully nobody decided that “we should go around the table and all say something we’re thankful for!”. There wasn’t a need for it. None of you needed to say it out loud to know you were all thankful for each other. For this. 

By the time dessert came around, Eddie started to think he might be dreaming. Apparently, you were the one always in charge of dessert in your household. And while he’d grown very acquainted with your chocolate chip cookies, he hadn’t been adequately prepared for your pecan pie. Or your chocolate & peanut butter sheet cake. Or the chocolate pudding/cool whip/cookie crumb whatever-it-was that you’d spooned onto his dessert plate. 

Could a person become delirious after consuming too much sugar? Eddie wasn’t sure if it was sugar that was causing him to start wondering what you’d look like making all these desserts in a kitchen that you both paid rent for, or if that was just him. It was probably the sugar.

As soon as Eddie was shoveling his last bite into his mouth, he was looking over to see if you had any left for him to mooch off of you. Your plate was empty- scraped clean, even- and then you were grabbing his empty plate and standing to take them into the kitchen. Eddie was about to pout when you looked at him knowingly and asked, “You want seconds? I’m getting seconds.”

It wasn’t the sugar. Eddie wanted to know what your signatures looked like together on a lease. And Eddie couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to finally admit to himself that he’d been nursing a crush on you since… when had it started? Eddie wasn’t sure. Somewhere between seventh grade history class and this very moment, he figured. 

He looked up at you from his seat, mouth still stuffed with pie crust and cool whip, and smiled when he noticed how pretty you looked in that sweater you were wearing. It was red- you wore red a lot, he realized. Had you always worn red this often?

You giggled, poking his cheek. “You look like a chipmunk when you smile like that.” 

His eyes followed you as you disappeared into the kitchen, and when Eddie caught a glimpse of the way Wayne was grinning at him? Well, his blush was a deeper shade of scarlet than your sweater.

The smile stayed, though. Even a punch to the jaw couldn’t knock that off Eddie’s face.

“I wanna take you out.” 

It had taken Eddie what felt like ages to finally ask you. You were both at school, and he had been thinking about it and thinking about it and ramping himself for weeks to just grow a pair and ask you. The question had sounded smoother in his head, but now he thought he sounded vaguely frightening- sharper and more desperate than he’d hoped.

You blanched, eyes wide and mouth open to a little “O” shape that made Eddie’s heart flutter. 

You were so cute. How had he ever ignored it?

You grinned a little, “Take me out like… assassination, take me out, or…?” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head, laughing nervously, “I mean like, out. To a place. Or multiple places, if you want.” He was jumpy, his hands switching from his pockets to the strap of his backpack, to his hair, to the fraying edges of the friendship bracelet you’d tied around his wrist in July. 

“So when you say take me out, you mean like… on a date?”

There it was. You’d said it, that word. Date. It was out in the open now. 

You’d put the ball in Eddie’s court, and he should be happy about it. This was how it was supposed to be, right? He needed to be a man, take control, take the lead. But unfortunately, it had taken the majority of his bravery just to initiate this conversation.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

Just like that, he passed the ball to you. Eddie cursed himself, waiting anxiously for your response, completely at your mercy.

You looked down at your shoes covered in his doodles, at the red plaid of your flannel that you wore because you’d bought it in hopes that if he started to associate you with his favorite color, he might like you more. Like you the way you liked him.

You couldn’t say the words either… couldn’t speak them into existence without fear of sounding too desperate, too eager. So instead, you nodded yes to your doodle covered shoes and smiled at the dragon he’d drawn on the left toe.

Eddie beamed- inwardly, of course. Couldn’t let you see exactly how happy he was that you felt the same as him- he needed to be calm, to be cool. Girls liked calm and cool.

 “Then it’s a date, Sweet Tart.” He ached to sling a triumphant arm over your shoulder, but shoved his sweating hands into his pockets instead. 

You snuck a glance at Eddie, your smile refusing to leave no matter how cool you were trying to appear. Be cool, don’t act too desperate, you chided yourself. 

“It’s a date.” you repeated, beaming up at him. “When were you thinking?”

“Well,” Eddie shrugged as you both came to a stop by your locker. “Finals are next week and then we’re off for Christmas break, so I should be able to pencil you in for next Saturday night.” He leaned against the adjacent lockers, a smug smile shining down on you. 

“Pencil me in, huh?” you giggled, replacing the notebooks and folders from your last class with your supplies for the next. “I’m flattered you could fit me into your busy schedule.”

“If there’s one thing my schedule always has room for, it’s you, Ace.” 

Swooning. That was the only word for what those words made you do. You weren’t sure if Eddie was aware of the effect he had on you, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to help it if he was. 

You were actually grateful for your final exams the following week- they gave you something to focus on other than your date with Eddie. Which meant that the moment you’d finished your last exam on Friday, that date was the only thing on your mind.

Your date with Eddie. The words alone were enough to make you smile to yourself. You’d been harboring this crush on him for the better part of this year, and now he asks you on a date? Was it possible that he had felt the same way all this time? 

“You sure you’re cool if I don’t stay for the whole session tonight?” you’d asked Eddie as he’d prepared for Hellfire that afternoon, triple-checking that he wasn’t upset. It had become a routine for the two of you- your weekly presence as the one and only audience member for Hellfire’s in-game escapades. 

“Cool as a cucumber, Ace.” Eddie had replied, “You took three exams today, for crying out loud. Go take a nap.” 

When you finally conceded, he’d walked you from the gameplay table to the door, even going so far as to hold it open for you. Then, to your surprise, he’d taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips. 

“Go rest up.” He’d muttered, low enough so only you could hear. Then he’d brushed his lips against the back of your fingers, and you’d just about melted on the spot. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 8, Sweet Tart.”

Your hand still tingled as you thought about the feel of his lips on your skin. Now, you wanted that feeling everywhere. 

Your body was on autopilot as you made your way through the school parking lot; slushed, muddy snow sat piled up in corners and untouched patches at the edges of the lot from the on-again off-again winter precipitation over the December weeks. Your booted feet marched on toward your car, your mind entirely occupied by thoughts of tomorrow. 

You were so distracted by that thought that you didn’t notice who was waiting for you, leaned up against the trunk of your car.

“Hey there, firecracker.” 

You stopped short when your eyes snapped up to see Alan, along with a couple guys from the basketball team. Their faces were pure predatory malice as Alan eyed you up and down. 

You paused a moment, your heart rate picking up a notch when you realized just how empty the parking lot was, given the hour that had passed since the final bell. 

“I have to get home.” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the driver side door and making your best attempt to brush past the jock leaned up directly beside it, but to no avail. 

“Not so fast, you little freak.” Alan stepped into your path, a cruel smile creasing his freckled face. “We just wanted to chat!”

“You,” your voice betrayed every ounce of disbelief that you felt looking up at the meathead blocking your path to your own vehicle. “-want to chat. With me?”

“I know, I know, you’re flattered-”

“I’m not.” 

“Well you should be.” Alan peered down at you with frigid eyes. “Lord knows no guy will ever want to be seen with you now that the Freak’s got his claws in you.” 

You felt a surge of indignant fire seep into your gaze. “Piss off, asshole.” You attempted to shove past him, but Alan took a step toward you, throwing off your balance. You had to grab the bumper of the car beside you to keep from falling over, clutching at the books in your arms to avoid dropping them onto the icy pavement below. 

“I even heard he branded you.” Alan’s hot breath sent an unwelcome shiver over your skin. “Sherrie said she saw you in the locker room with… some kind of symbol… on your upper thigh, I believe?”

A biting breeze whooshed past you, but you didn’t feel it- your body had already gone ice cold. 

“Sherrie’s lying.”

“You know, I don’t think she is.” Alan’s hands crept closer toward you, ghosting fingertips across the fabric of your skirt. “But if you want to prove it to us…”

You felt your stomach drop when one of Alan’s friends stepped behind you, boxing you in. They were like vultures- to them, you were already down for the count. Ready to be picked at and preyed upon.

Slapping Alan’s hand away, you attempted once again to squeeze past him and his goons, anxious for the safety of your driver’s seat and a locked door between you and them. Unfortunately, Alan had other plans. 

“Come on,” he crooned, “girls don’t get tattoos unless they want people to see them. Go ahead and show us.”

“Go. Away.” you gritted through your teeth. 

“The Freak’s seen it, hasn't he?” Alan pressed, his hand grasping the fabric of your skirt in his fist. “What, you’ll slut yourself out for him, but not us?”

“What the fuck are you dickheads doing?” 

You’d never been so thankful to hear Robin’s voice in your life. 

Alan sneered at the unfamiliar sophomore, subtly letting go of your skirt. “Who the hell are you?” 

Robin marched up to the boy standing behind you, powering her glare with just enough ferocity that he actually moved aside. Grabbing your shoulders, Robin pulled you a good five feet from Alan and looked you square in the eye. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, pulling your car keys from the pocket of your backpack. You were anxious for something tangible to fidget with, something to ground you in where you stood, away from Alan and his wandering hands.

Once she was sure you were alright, Robin turned the full force of her fury on the boys that stood around your car. 

“Mr. Dunne was right behind me on his way out here, so unless you want me to tell him that I just found you groping a female student, I suggest you scram.” 

You saw Alan weighing his options for a moment, but eventually he stuck his hands in the pockets of his letter jacket and- thankfully- took his leave. 

“Whatever, freaks.” he muttered, strolling away like a brat who had grown up believing himself to be invincible in a system that agreed with him.  

It wasn’t until the two of you were both sitting in your car and safe behind locked doors that you finally let out the breath you’d evidently been holding. “Fuck him.” you huffed. “Fuck. Him.”

“Fuck him.” Robin agreed with an emphatic nod of her head. “Has he ever even talked to you before? That seemed… super random, honestly, I’ve never even seen him look in your direction.” 

“I may have picked a fight with him after I heard him call Eddie and I freaks in class not too long ago.” you winced, remembering how brazen you’d been that day… you’d been so bold, so fearless, but that girl was nowhere to be seen today. Instead, you’d frozen like a cornered fox surrounded by hounds. It made you feel so small, you thought you might be sick. You hated feeling this way.

“Apparently,” you continued, “his girlfriend saw my tattoo in the locker room. He said he wanted to see it for himself.” 

Robin had been the first person- and only person- you’d shown your little bat to after Halloween. She’d been pretty impressed… after she’d stopped worrying about it getting infected, of course. 

“First- ew. Gross.” Robin grimaced. “Second- are you telling me you just change in the locker room with that thing out in the open?” 

“I’m usually super careful about keeping it hidden!” you argued, “But it is a possibility that I might have been a little rushed to get to my next class at some point… I guess I wasn’t careful enough.”

A short silence settled while you mentally kicked yourself. I should have known this would happen. How could I be so careless? 

“Well,” Robin started, suddenly chipper. You knew this tone; she was about to try and cheer you up. Good luck, Rob. 

“You’re going to drive me to your house and then we’re baking cookies and watching whatever movie you want.” 

While you were still far from what you would consider over what just happened, your interest was definitely piqued. “Whatever movie I want?” you countered. 

Robin sighed. “I know what you’re about to ask, and yes, we can watch The Dark Crystal.”

The beginnings of a smile stretched across your face. “And you won’t call any of the puppets creepy at any point?”

“Let’s not go that far.” she deadpanned. “I will watch it, I will eat cookies, and I will not suggest that we turn it off before the movie is over. This is my final offer.”

For Robin, that was a pretty good deal. Your beginnings of a grin had graduated to a full-on smile as you took her hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “You’re a good friend.”

She returned your smile, and squeezed your hand back before letting go to buckle her seatbelt. “I’m a great friend. Now start driving, I’m hungry and we’re stopping for french fries.”

Part 7

Taglist: @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan , @sadlittlesquish, @clarafornerlyknownasclaire-blog , @stylesxmunson , @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21 , @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight, @ghost-proofbaby , @hellfire--cult

I added a few people to the taglist who’ve shown an interest in the series or have been my sounding boards during the writing process for this story. Hope y’all don’t mind!😊❤️

[smoshyourheadin]

Maybe u could do a Spencer besties to lovers? Like they've known each other a long time yk

Thankssss no pressure if ur busy ofc <3

It’s Always Been You

cw: reader has a boyf who she breaks up w bc he’s an alchaholic!! don’t read if you aren’t comfortable, i’ll catch you another time ml 💛

a/n: EEK IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT ANON 🫶🫶💛💛 also im taking this as smosh spence not cm spence so feel free to re-request if you’d like <33 ps, ive written that he listens to pink floyd here so thats who syd barrett is if you don’t know :))

requests r open!!

///

pairing: spencer agnew x fem!reader

florida, 2002

you and spencer were scurrying around in the freshly mown grass of his backyard, playing tag.

“you didn’t get me, you cheated!” you exclaim, ducking as he reaches out to get you again, tumbling to the floor.

“did too!” spencer retorts, his grazed knees dropping to the floor so he can lean over you. he meets your eyes, pulls a tongue, and hoists himself back up to run to his tyre swing.

all 11 years you’d known, you’d known them with spencer. your moms had been great friends since way before you were born, being in the same book club. or was it an art night? you didn’t exactly know, but you did know that because your moms were best friends, so were you and spencer.

as you sprung back up to your feet, your moms watched your antics through the kitchen window.

“whoever can swing the other the highest gets to have the last red popsicle!” he yelled as you ran over

“oh you’re so on!”

your hands gripped the tyre and you pushed like your life depended on it.

“y’know,” your mom said “one day, they’re going to end up together.”

his mom looked over at yours and smiled,

“i’d be surprised if they didnt honestly.”

los angeles, 2024

you walk through the door of your apartment, and you kick the door closed behind you. your bag slides off your shoulder, and you throw your keys onto the dresser next to the door. you only manage a long groan before flopping onto the couch.

“heya, charlie!” you scrunch your face up as you feel your dog’s cold, wet nose press against your cheek, as he gently wags his tail

“i missed you too boy, work was so tiring today.” you work at smosh with spencer, and have done for the past seven years after you left your job at another channel to join him. it was basically the best decision you’d ever made, every day filled with laughs; practically just a 24/7 hangout. you work with spencer on smosh games, but rarely ever go on camera, even if spencer’s there. you enjoy it anyway though.

you sit up and scratch behind his ears. he wiggles his body contently at your fondness. and then your stomach growls. it made sense, it was currently 6:43pm, and you last ate at noon, so you get up and drag yourself to make some mac n cheese.

as the pasta boils your phone starts ringing.

it’s james.

rubbing your hands over your face, you answer the dreaded call from your boyfriend james.

“heyyy~ sweetheart, y’doin okay? you were hic bein’ a bit of a bitch today, didnt answer my calls, what, you hate me or sumn?” he rambles, most of his words just slurring off.

“james, are you drinking again?” your voice is agitated, hearing the chattering and the low bass of a bar in the background.

you know he has a problem, and you’ve tried to get him to stop so many times. but you just can’t. he just won’t take your help.

“wha- i mean- well- no- but um- well y’r just gonna be mad at me like y’allways are” he stammers, not wanting to tell you the truth.

“no, i’m done with this. you say all this to me when you’re drunk, and then act like everything is fine! i’m sick of it! you spend so much time at the bar, and its the only place we ever go on dates, and i just end up babysitting you! so yeah i am mad! but for the last time! fuck you james.”

you hang up.

you start to tear up, the knot in your chest tight as your emotions come rushing to you, face heating up as tears begin to fall. the hissing of something behind you snaps you out of it.

“shit!” you rush over to to your stove, where the water from your pasta spills over the sides, the flames licking at the bottom of the pan.you take it off the heat and turn it off. it looks done anyway. you add some butter, and, of course, cheese. stirring gently, you sob.

james was so nice to you, always showering you with gifts and praise and love. but it was all for nothing. he just didn’t love you like he loved drinking in the end.

pouring the mac n cheese into a bowl, you call spencer.

“hey lemon! how’s my favourite person this fine evening?” you smile at the nickname.

florida, 2007

“spencer, you’re a boy. why are you so complicated? i mean, its just annoying!” you walk into his bedroom after his mom let you in, clearly pissed off. being 16 isn’t fun, especially when boys you like are rude to you.

“what did he do?” spencer doesn’t look up from his computer, just slightly turn his head.

“he said that i must eat lemons because of how bitter i am. i mean come on!” you lie on his bed and watch him play runescape.

“lemon… hmph” he just smiles and continues whatever he was doing on his game.

“what? nothing to say? ugh! you suuuuuck!”

los angeles, 2024

“yeah, i mean, no. i broke up with james.” you sniffle, and eat a forkfull of your food, elbows resting on the cold marble of the kitchen island.

“i mean- um- yeah thats horrible…” he says

“you’re allowed to celebrate, i know you hated him. and so did everyone. but still. im fragile right now!” you giggle through your gentle tears

“well, i mean, honestly? glad he’s gone. he sucked dude. not sure why you didn’t do it sooner. well, one positive to come of this, your pillows won’t stink of beer next time i nap at yours!” he replies, clearly happy for you.

“yeah,” you chuckle at the memory of spencer falling asleep on your bed, then completing his hair smelt like budweiser “that is true.”

“all seriousness though, are you okay?” his voice is genuine this time, filled with concern.

“no, not really. it’s just… different i guess. but, not much has changed y’know? like, it already felt like he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore…” you begin to ramble for at least 20 minutes, only to be met with the occasional ‘mhmn’ and ‘yeah’ from spencer. mid sentence, there’s a knock at your door.

“oh one sec, someone’s here.” you get up from your table and swing the door open to see a very sympathetic looking spencer, two target bags in his hands.

your jaw is on the floor. you were just crying to him over the phone, and he’d stayed whilst going out to get what you can only assume is things like sour patch kids and vanilla ice cream, which you could see at the top of the bag. your favourites.

“girls night?” he smirked and raised the bags at his sides.

all you can do is smile ear to ear, and wrap him in a tight hug. he leaned into you, basking in your sweet citrusy perfume.

“you’re my favourite, spencie.” you say into his shoulder.

as you both walk inside, charlie comes bounding over to spencer, his favourite person.

“who’s a good boy! charlie is!” spencer was now crouchedby your kitchen island, fussing over your dog as you walked to put on something more comfortable. you slid on some track pants and an old atari hoodie. walking back into your kitchen, spencer has unpacked the bags, and is creating his favourite conconction, The Agnew Sundae. basically the most sickeningly sweet ice cream ever. his dad made it for you both in the summer, and it consisted of:

vanilla ice cream

chocolate syrup

caramel sauce

whipped cream

sprinkles

mini marshmallows

chocolate chips

m&ms

and some crushed oreos to finish.

god, you know you’re going to regret this later, but boy was it a good way to cheer you up.

also strewn on the counter was his switch and copy of animal crossing, a few of his dvd’s for you to watch, and his mom’s chocolate chip cookies.

“spencer, how on earth did you get these? your mom lives across the country!” you hold up the baggie, and raise an eyebrow.

he looks up from his ice cream assembly station, and smirks.

“a magician never- ow!”

you cut him off by lightly jabbing his arm

“okay okay, she visited not to long ago - when she took you to the mall? and she gave me these to freeze and keep for an important event. i think she’d agree this is important.” you cant help but smile at his remark. you missed you moms.

“i’ll have to ring her later to thank her.” you say.

the night goes on, and you and spencer sit on the couch under a blanket watching barbie princess charm school. because what else are you going to watch?

as the movie goes on, and the effects of the agnew sundae kick in; you were dozing off on his shoulder. towards the end of the movie, so does he. he drifts off, comforted by your soft hair occasionally brushing against his face.

you stir awake, the sun beaming into your eyes through your semi-open blinds, and you’re hit by a wave of memory. everything that happened last night comes flooding back.

james’ call.

spencer’s call.

spencer showing up for you.

at the latter, you smile slightly. you prop yourself up on the sofa, and notice the absence of spencer’s warmth by you. frowning slightly, you walk into the kitchen.

“morning sleepyhead” his sweet voice rings through the room

“hey. i thought you’d’ve gone home”

“no, im not that mean! who do you take me for?” he retorts, his attention turning back to the pancakes on the stove.

“pancakes? what time is it?” you come up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder.

“yeah, and it’s about 10:30.” he leant his head on yours, flipping one. you had to admit, they look pretty good.

“10:30!?” you lift you head in surprise, looking at your phone “shouldn’t we be in work?”

“nope, i called us in sick. said my mom was having surgery. which she is, but i made it sound dramatic so we could stay off.” he looks at you, and smiles slightly.

“well, send her my love! i think i’ll go get dressed now.” he hummed, and you left the room.

opening your closet, you pick out a yellow baggy t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. you pull on some fluffy socks, and slip on a zip up hoodie. walking back out into the living room, spencer walks in with two plates piled high with pancakes, drenched in syrup and strawberries

“so,” you say, a fork full of pancakes in your mouth. “whats the plan for today?”

he looks over at you, and shrugs slightly. “not sure, we could go to the book store you like?”

“ah, you know the way to a girl’s heart“ you put a hand over your chest and giggle a bit.

a few hours later, you walk into the store, door creaking just a bit as a small brass bell chimes overhead. the air is filled with a comforting mix of old paper, leather bindings, and a hint of freshly brewed coffee from the corner cafe that you and spencer like to get tea from. you breathe it in deeply, a sense of calm washing over you. as you walk over the creaky wooden floorboards beneath you, soft warm light filters down from antique lamps, and cast a gentle glow over the rows of books. you ghost your fingertips over the cloth spines while the quiet murmur of whispered conversations and the occasional rustling of pages create a soothing background noise, almost like a lullaby. through spencer’s airpods, syd barrett serenades you both, and his voice blends seamlessly with the ambiance of the store.

“anything good today lemon?” spencer says as he shimmies up next to you in the aisle of towering book shelves, his voice like honey rolling off his tongue. his hair was unruly as always, but he looked so pretty in this light. his face was littered with freckles that you wish you could kiss. he’s smiling at you, and it snaps you back to reality, and reminds you of the fact you’re staring at him

“uh, yeah, i think i’ll get this one” you smile back, holding up a copy of memoirs of a geisha by arthur golden

“cool, shayne likes that one i think. but he likes every book so…” he smiles at his own remark “um, you want me to grab our normal seats in the cafe while you pay for that?”

“yes, please!” you reply eagerly, smiling as he walked off.

you walk up to the cashier, an older lady who always gives you a bookmark.

“thank you m’darlin’, have a lovely day!”

“you too mrs bryson!” you reply, heading over to spencer who’s sat in some plush leather armchairs. as you sit in comfortable silence with him, time seems to slow down, and for a moment, it's just you, spencer, the books, and the comforting atmosphere of this charming bookstore.

“i got you your sweet tea.” he says, handing you a plastic cup filled with your favourite tea.

he remembered.

fuck.

you were in love with spencer agnew, and it took you him handing you your favourite tea to realise it.

“thanks spence.” you say, still grasping the feelings in your chest.

while you read you book and drink your tea, you feel your attention drifting to him. you can't help but glance up from the pages every now and then, watching him as he sits across from you, his focus on his own book. his fingers absently tracing the rim of his coffee mug, his brow furrowing as he reads. the way the sunlight filters through the small window, casting a warm glow across his hair, highlighting the subtle streaks of lighter brown among his dark curls. you find yourself smiling at the sight of him, wondering when these small, mundane moments began to mean so much to you. the bookstore is quiet, aside for the murmur of others reading or talking in hushed tones. yet, with spencer sitting just a few feet away, the world feels like it's faded to the background. it's just you and him, sharing this space, this moment. you watch the way his lips move slightly as he reads, how he occasionally tilts his head in concentration, and the way his eyes light up when he finds something particularly interesting. as he looks up and catches you watching him, you feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest. he smiles at you, a slow, easy smile that makes your heart skip a beat. he raises an eyebrow, and you quickly look back down at your book, feeling your cheeks flush. but you can't help it; your gaze finds its way back to him, like he's the most interesting story in the room. he seems to notice the shift in the air between you. he closes his book and leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

“everything okay?” he asks, his voice gentle, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual, though your heart is racing. “just... glad to be here with you.”

he nods, his smile growing a bit wider. “me too.”

as he settles back into his chair, you realize that this simple exchange has changed something. the air feels lighter, the connection between you stronger. you may have come here to read and relax, but now, sitting across from spencer, you know you've found something else entirely - something you never want to let go of.

as you leave the store, you’re panicking slightly as you realise you don’t know what to do. so instead you make up an excuse.

“i forgot my keys ," you blurt out, looking back at the bookstore. it's a thin excuse, but spencer doesn't seem to notice. he simply nods, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"do you want me to wait for you?" he asks, already reaching for his phone to check the time.

"no, it's fine," you reply quickly. "you can go ahead. i’ll just be a minute."

spencer seems reluctant to leave, but he nods, offering a warm smile before stepping out onto the street. you watch him walk away, his figure blending into the crowd as he heads toward the main crossing. your heart sinks a little as he disappears from view, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse.

the bookstore feels different now. the warm glow and soft murmurs are still there, but without spencer, it's like the color has faded a bit. you stand by the door, uncertain of what to do next. you could go back outside, catch up with him, and just say it. tell him how you feel. but the words seem stuck in your throat, and the thought of laying your feelings bare feels like too much, too soon.

you step back inside, pretending to look for something you might have left behind. the stacks of books seem to stretch endlessly in front of you, a maze of comforting distractions. you wander through the aisles, hoping to calm your racing thoughts, but all you can think about is spencer - his smile, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the warmth of his voice.

eventually, you find a quiet corner and sit down, closing your eyes for a moment. you know you have to do something. you can't just let him walk away without knowing how much he means to you. but the fear of rejection, of changing everything, feels overwhelming.

you realize you need time to sort through your feelings, to figure out the best way to approach this. with a heavy heart, you decide to make your way home, hoping the familiar surroundings will bring clarity. as you step out onto the street, the cool breeze brushes against your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside you.

on the journey home, you replay the moments with spencer in your mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of how much he means to you. you know you can't keep hiding your feelings, but you also know you need to approach this with caution. as you unlock the door to your apartment, you make a silent promise to yourself—to take the time you need, to listen to your heart, and to find the courage to follow where it leads, even if it means risking everything for him.

when you get home, spencer tries calling you as he paces around his bedroom, his phone pressed against his ear. the ringing continues, but there's no answer. he frowns, feeling an uneasy twist in his stomach. maybe you're still in the bookstore. maybe your phone is on silent, or maybe you're just busy. he tells himself there's a reasonable explanation, but the doubt lingers.

as he walks to his kitchen, he dials again. this time, the call goes straight to voicemail. his instincts tell him something isn't right. the keys excuse felt odd, and your hurried departure only amplifies his worry. he takes a moment to think, then leaves his apartment, jumps in his car, starts the engine, and drives toward your apartment.

the streets pass in a blur as he navigates through the evening traffic, his mind racing with possibilities. he finds a parking spot near your building and heads to your door. the hallway is quiet, save for the distant sound of a tv from a neighbouring apartment. he takes a deep breath and knocks.

nothing.

he knocks again, this time a little louder. the knot in his stomach tightens. what if something's wrong? what if he's too late? he knocks a third time, and this time, he hears a faint rustling from inside. the door opens slowly, and there you are, standing in the doorway with a look of surprise and confusion.

"spence?" you say, blinking at him as if he's the last person you expected to see.

"i - i was worried," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "you didn't answer your phone, and i - i didn't know if you were okay."

you tilt your head, trying to process why he's here. his eyes search yours, and you can tell he's anxious, almost desperate to explain himself. "i'm fine," you say, "just had some stuff to think about."

he nods, but you can see he's not entirely convinced. there's something else, something deeper. he takes a step back, as if he's about to leave, but then he hesitates. "i - i have to tell you something," he blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. "i like you. like a lot. like i think i love you? and i know it might be weird, and i don't want to mess things up, but I just had to say it - because i couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”

he looks at you, his eyes full of emotions you can't quite decipher yet. you nod, urging him to continue, even though your own heart is racing. there's something in his gaze that makes you realize this isn't just any confession - this is something that's been building for a long time.

"i've liked you since we were kids," he says, almost breathlessly. "i mean, you were always the coolest person I knew. you didn't care what anyone else thought. you were smart and funny and just... so genuinely kind. i remember when we used to ride our bikes around the neighbourhood, and you'd always be the first one to try something new. like, remember when you climbed that huge tree in mr lawson's yard just because you wanted to see the view from the top? i thought you were so brave."

he chuckles softly, his gaze softening as he reminisces. "and then, when we got older, you were always there for me. when my parents split up, and i felt like everything was falling apart, you were the one who came over with a pizza and just listened. you didn't try to fix it; you just let me talk. that's something i've always loved about you. you're a great listener, and you care about people. like, really care."

he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes locking with yours. "it's not just that, though. It's the little things, too. the way you laugh at the dumbest of angela’s jokes, the way you get excited about your favorite books, and how you always know the right thing to say when I'm feeling down. you make everything feel... lighter, you know? like, even when things are tough, you find a way to make it better."

spencer pauses, his voice growing more earnest. "so yeah, i've um, been holding onto this for a while, and i just, couldn't keep pretending that i didn't feel this way. i like you - a lot. and i don't know if you feel the same way, but i just couldn't not tell you anymore."

he takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders indicating that he's prepared to leave if needed. "i don't want to make things weird between us. if you don't feel the same, that's okay. i just had to say it, because you're the best thing in my life, and i can't keep acting like you aren't."

his confession takes you by surprise, but as he speaks, you feel a surge of warmth in your chest. the words you were struggling to say are suddenly so clear, so obvious. you watch as he starts to turn away, his shoulders slumping in resignation. before he can take another step, you grab his arm and pull him back, your lips pressing against his in a gentle, yet desperate kiss.

he freezes for a moment, stunned by your sudden action, then his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. when you finally break the kiss, you look into his eyes, and there's no doubt, no hesitation.

"it's always been you," you whisper, your voice soft but sure. "you're my person, spencer."

he hugs you tightly, his grip firm and comforting, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. it's a perfect moment, one that feels like the beginning of something new, something beautiful.

and as you stand there in each other's embrace, you know that everything's going to be okay, because you have each other. and that's all that matters.

[roosterforme]

Beer Boy and Sugar: The Second Lost Year (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Part of the Lost Years series for Beer Boy and Sugar

Warnings: language, longing, angst (series fits chronologically between Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time)

Banner by @mak-32

Year Two

Bradley dropped down on his bed and started to untie his boots while Nat looked around at everything on his desk. They were both about to start flying solo now, and it was such a relief that she was advancing in the program with him. It brought him a little bit of joy every time they left the others in the dust.

"I always liked this thing," she remarked, poking his Navy desk lamp as he set his boots under his bed. "You said it was your dad's, right?"

"Yeah. Makes it vintage," he replied with a grin as he lounged back on his pillows, already thinking about dinner in the mess hall. It was hot as hell outside, especially by Rhode Island standards, and it made him miss Virginia a little bit. "Are you ready for dinner?"

She groaned. "It's too hot to go outside and walk all the way to get food. Your air conditioner works better than mine, too. Can't we just stay in here?"

His stomach growled as he said, "All I got is some protein bars and instant mac and cheese. And I'm starving."

Nat started to poke at the book he was currently reading as she said, "I'll order us a pizza."

This was something he'd never get used to, even though he considered her his best friend. She always seemed to have money from her parents, and he had basically nothing. But she continually offered to share her food with him. Bradley wasn't exactly sure what he brought to this friendship, but she seemed to enjoy having him around, so he didn't bring it up.

"Fine," he agreed.

This seemed to make her happy as she fished her phone out of her pocket. "You want your usual topping choice?"

Bradley froze with his fingers pushed back in his messy hair. At first, he always ordered his pizza that way, because that's how you liked it. Now Nat thought it was his preference. But maybe it actually was?

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Please." 

Then he listened to her call it in while his thoughts drifted back to Virginia. He hadn't seen or heard from you in fourteen months, but he'd thought about you every single day. It hurt a little less now, but all the feelings were still there. He still looked at all the pictures he had saved on his phone. He thought about you when he touched himself. He still hadn't slept with anyone else since you.

"Why would you keep a differential equations notebook from UVA?" Nat mused, but he was barely listening to her as he thought about your body curled up against his while you wore his Grateful Dead shirt. "Did you even take advanced math?" 

When he finally registered what she said, he sat up in his bed and saw her holding your purple notebook. The one with all the doodles and love notes in the margins, and he felt like he was back in the study room with you on his lap. The breath was knocked from his lugs as a sheet of loose, folded paper fell onto her lap, and she picked it up and started to read it out loud.

"Dear Beer Boy, 

I'm bored in my calculus lecture, and I just started thinking about your bedroom door. It's still the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. Maybe you and I could wait until the middle of the night when all of your fraternity brothers are asleep and sneak out into the hallway and-"

Bradley lunged out of bed and grabbed the note from her hand before she could see the rest. "What the fuck, Nat? That's personal!"

Her dark brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she said, "That was from her."

He knew she was kind of mystified by you, given that he only shared details of the happiest months of his adult life sparingly. She always asked for more information when he mentioned you, always wanted to know more. But Bradley felt like the magic would wear off the more he talked about you, so he always kept it brief. He also knew he wasn't going to get away with saying nothing right now.

"Yeah," he grunted, taking the purple notebook from her hands and returning the folded note to the back pages. The sight of your handwriting filled him with a deep need for you. "And this was her notebook."

Nat's voice was gentle, as if she was trying not to spook him when she asked, "Why did she like your door so much?"

Bradley closed his eyes and laughed quietly. "I painted over all the other girls' names and phone numbers. For her. Or for myself. I don't really know anymore."

Now her eyes were narrowed when he looked at her again. "'All the other girls'. Holy shit, Bradshaw. Were you some sort of fuckboy in college?"

He leaned back against his pillows again as he groaned, "Basically." He didn't really like thinking about it, because that hadn't been him for a long time now. "Before Sugar."

She took her phone out again, and Bradley desperately wished the pizza would arrive so this conversation could end. But Nat asked, "What was her last name again? I want to know exactly what she looks like."

He whispered the word, loving the feel of it on his tongue as he took his own phone out. He located the picture of him with his arm around your shoulders that Dev took the week before graduation. Your smile was too pretty, and your face was too perfect. There was a reason he had to limit himself, and the onslaught of feelings was proof of why: He wasn't over you yet.

"Here," he muttered, stretching his arm out to hand his phone to Nat, but she gasped as she looked at her own phone.

"She's gorgeous. I found her Instagram account."

"You did?" he asked, launching himself off of the bed and forcefully switching phones with her. She gasped again as she looked at the photo on his phone, but Bradley was too busy staring at the tiny thumbnail of your smiling face. Your account was set to private, but this photo must have been more recent. Your hair was styled differently, and the only thing he could process was that he felt relieved you were posing alone instead of with some other guy. He didn't want to have to put a face to that.

He thought about taking a screenshot and texting it to himself, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. And when Nat asked if he wanted her to send you a friend request, he said absolutely not. "You think I want her to know I still think about her every day? No."

Then she said, "But maybe she still thinks about you." 

Bradley didn't see how that was a possibility.

The pizza finally arrived just then, and Nat stood to go get it. She gave him a cautious hug and said, "I think she would be proud of you." She left him alone with both phones in his hands, and somehow he knew it would be easier to talk about you now if he wanted to.

------------------------

It was mind blowing. Three months ago, Chicago was freezing cold and practically encased in ice. Now it was blazing hot to the point that you couldn't get any relief unless you were inside your dorm room. It was Friday, thank goodness. Everyone in your graduate studies group wanted to go out for deep dish pizza tonight, and you had to figure out a way to stop sweating long enough to actually get dressed in something other than the shorts and tank you were wearing now.

You groaned as you carried your computer and textbooks across campus in your backpack. You had the highest grades out of all of the math graduate students, but you still took everything with you everywhere in case you had some extra time to study. But you should have left everything in your room instead on this sweltering day.

The quad was packed with tables and students participating in a career fair, but for some reason, this was where Jared asked you to meet up. Four dates with him, and you still weren't convinced it was a good idea to take things out of the friend zone. Four dates, and you still didn't really want to do anything besides kiss him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him, he just wasn't exactly right.

"Hey!" 

As soon as you heard Jared calling out for you, your initial reaction was to hide. You were absolutely going to have to tell him you didn't want to see him anymore, and it mostly made you mad that it would probably disrupt your friend group. 

"Hi," you replied as he squeezed through the crowd to get to you. And then he slipped his sweaty hand in yours, and you actually cringed. Why wasn't this what you wanted? After nearly a year, he wore you down enough that you gave it a try, but this was decidedly bad. Especially since you could picture exactly what you did want.

When you looked up at Jared's face, your gaze drifted to your left. You gasped and dropped his hand immediately. There were recruiters from the Navy. They were wearing flight suits. You caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and a flash of dark eyes, and you were off.

Jared was calling after you as you fought through the crowd, catching glimpses here and there of broad shoulders and a handsome smile. Oh my god, he was here. Somehow, he was here. Like he'd just climbed out of your dreams and into the University of Chicago campus. 

"Bradley!"

Your voice rang out, but he didn't fully turn your way. You rushed a little faster, no longer caring if you knocked someone into one of the tables. 

"Bradley!"

But you stumbled as you reached the recruiters, and your smile evaporated from your lips. Tears stung at your eyes as he turned to face you, leaving your heart filled with disappointment. 

"Hey, there. I'm Lieutenant Chapman," he said with a grin, and you honestly didn't know how you could have been mistaken. His eyes were hazel, and his hair was too curly, and now you were standing there feeling like you'd just broken your own heart all over again. The disappointment could smother you if you let it.

You nodded and turned away as sweat dripped down your chest and an awful feeling settled into your stomach. You made your way back through the crowd at a much slower pace with no real desire to talk to Jared, but you reached him all too soon.

"What happened?" he asked, grabbing your hand again.

You looked at the ground and tried to hide your tears as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Sorry. I thought I saw an old friend."

He just made an impatient noise and asked, "You ready to go get changed and grab some pizza with everyone else? I thought we could ditch them early and maybe go back to my room and watch a movie? And like hang out... on my bed?"

His voice was distressingly hopeful. You wanted to say no. You knew you should. But you kept your eyes fixed on the ground as you said, "Sounds good," with almost no conviction. You wanted to get past this, so you needed to actually start trying.

-----------------------

Make it stop hurting. Or don't. I don't know. They must both already know they belong together. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this series!

@beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @shanimallina87 @sylviebell @wkndwlff @horseslovers2016 @sadpetalsstuff @schoollover @jessicab1991 @lex-winchester @bellaireland1981 @sagittarius-flowerchild @marvelouslyme96 @trickphotography2 @goldenseresinretriever @rascallyrascals @auroracaroline @nerdgirljen @redbarn1995 @theweekndhistorybook @averyhotchner @moon42flight @eli2447 @lyn-js @na-ta-sh-aa @mygyn @je-suis-prest-rachel @kcloveswrestling @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @callsign-magnolia @eternalsams @lynnestra44 @shinzowosasageyoooo @tgmreader @princessofglitterland @backupbrii @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @averyhotchner @hookslove1592 @callsigns-haze

[ddejavvu]

Eddie throwing your younger niece/nephew/cousin(s) into the couch and in the air and all over the place while you’re gone for five minutes when babysitting them. They’re the ones squealing with delight and asking for it though!

Eddie has assured you that he is more than capable of babysitting while you make dinner. And to his credit, he's over twenty years old, and he's able-bodied. He should have no issues dealing with two toddlers that are winding down for the night already, tired after a day at the park.

Contrary to what he'd assured you, when you walk in to let them know that dinner is five minutes from completion, you watch in stiff, frozen horror as your niece flies through the air towards you.

Eddie's eyes widen in momentary terror until you shoot your arms out to catch her, and she lands in your grip in a heap of giggles.

"Eddie!" You snap, "What are you doing?"

"She was gonna land on the couch!" Eddie gestures to the cushion just behind you, that you'd accidentally covered when you'd stepped through the doorway. Admittedly, she could have easily stuck the landing, but the fact that she was airborne at all makes you nervous.

"It's fun!" She gushes, and her younger sister tugs at Eddie's belt chain. At her prompting, he picks her up, and she points vigorously to the couch, silently begging to be tossed.

"You threw the baby?" Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, and the girl in your arms only laughs harder.

"She's fine," Eddie insists, "I don't throw her far. Move, babe, I'll show you."

"No!" You gush, but he nudges you out of the way anyways. You watch with poorly-concealed fear as he gently scoops the baby into optimal throwing position, then softly launches her less than a foot onto the cushion. She lands softly, a mess of drooly laughter and shiny eyes, and clamors back over to him when he holds his arms out.

He's grinning down at her but soon remembers your distaste for their new game, and regards you with a cautious glance. You scoff at the twin pouts on their face, albeit her cheeks are chubbier than his, and you pass the girl in your arms back over when she reaches for Eddie.

"No more than three feet," You warn him, and all three of the guilty parties grin at each other excitedly, "Remember: If we have to go to the hospital tonight, no one gets mac and cheese!"

[star-girl69]

BABBBYYYYYY OMG I HAVE A HEADCANNON!

Okay so imagine Clarisse is like eating with her sibilants and so is like every one else. But then like you hear like yelling and shouting and it’s her gfn and her gfns sister arguing over whatever. What do you think Clarisse would do?

ok i’m sorry… i think you mean that y/n is fighting w her sibling right??? i think so i’m going w that ANYWAYSSSSSSS

i don’t feel like fleshing out an actual argument so OOHHHH your bitchy sister told a secret of yours to everyone 😱😱😱😱

this is so me that one time my friend started saying shit and then i tried to fight her from across the lunch table screaming LET GO OF ME IM GONNA RIP HER FUCKING HAIR OUT (they did not let go of me… very sad 💔)

but basically there’s two ways i feel this could go

if you’re actually physically fighting her then similar to Don’t Delete The Kisses she’s probably just gonna stand up and watch you bc all those training sessions that you have w her were not just to flirt!!!!!! or feel up on you!!!!! it mostly was but shush!!!!!!!

so if you’re winning she doesn’t care but eventually when you start actually hurting her or she feels it’s escalating then she’ll drag you away from the fight like she’ll pick you up if she has to even though you’re kicking and screaming

she’ll take you back to her cabin and then be like “you did such a great job baby i’m so proud except just make sure not to reveal your side when you swing-”

and if you got any injuries then she’ll clean them up for you, definitely give you a few kisses for being just so so brave!

and if you get hurt…. do i even have to elaborate?? i don’t think i do but i will 😍

EXCEPT PLOT TWIST she really don’t care about some random girl who’s only defense was to pull your hair really hard or slap you 😭😭

she just doesn’t like to see you hurt 💔 however small 💔 so she’ll probably AGAIN just drag you away even if you want to keep fighting “LET ME AT HER” “NO DUMBASS YOURE HURT” “SHE JUST SCRATCHED ME ILL BE FINE” “I. DONT. CARE.”

and then if you’re just like arguing verbally she agrees w whatever you’re saying. even if you’re advocating murder ok she’ll murder someone for you no big deal 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ like why you even talking abt it w some random girl…? all you gotta do it ask trust 🙏

even if it’s super petty

“YES MAC N CHEESE IS THE BEST FOOD” “NO THE FUCK IT IS NOT-”

“YES BABY!!!!! SO TRUE!!!!!! GET EM FR!!!!!!!”

[rotten7rat]

Batfamily + Cooking

Alfred:

He's the main cook, and has been since taking the job as the Wayne's butler. Classically trained in the culinary arts, and thankfully stillvery much enjoys it, though not as much as he used to. He likes baking more than cooking, and has gotten more of a sweet tooth as he's gotten older. Leans more on your classic British dishes, but is always happy to try a requested recipe. Prefers to cook either alone or with competent help.

Bruce:

No. Cannot even be trusted to make a grilled cheese, he always burns them.

Barbara:

Pretty good. Very much a 'throw something together at 7:30, eat at 8' kind of person, but everyone is always happy to have what she cooks. If it takes hours to make then its not worth it. A teacher suggested once that being raised by a single father, she must do most of the cooking and cleaning, and after that she refused to learn how to cook out of sheer stubbornness.

Dick:

An excellent cook. I think it comes naturally to him, he didn't spend much time cooking growing up but once he taught himself the basics he can pretty much throw anything together. Its by no means a passion of his, but he does enjoy it. However, he doesn't cook often due to being too busy and/or tired, so he gets a lot of takeout or just has something quick or microwavable very often. But if he's cooking you best be there. Anything can be a social occasion and he happily accepts help in the kitchen. Not great at baking though, he always manages to over-cook or over-mix.

Cassandra:

I'm sorry but she will throw rice, water, and and an unseasoned chicken breast in the rice cooker and call it a night. Either that or she'll have a protein shake and seven eggs.

Jason:

Quite good. Unlike Dick, it doesn't come naturally to him, but he is a fast learner and picked it up mostly from Catherine, Alfred, and YouTube. That being said, would he prefer tortellini en brodo or four boxes of Kraft mac and cheese? Tamales or something quick and greasy from Bat Burger? Its always the second option. I think he often cooks as a distraction or just something to do, and just gives it to the single mother across the hall or throws it in the freezer to eat a week later.

Stephanie:

Decent. She'll see a recipe on TikTok and will try it instantly, and she's always excited to try something new. Works best with a recipe but decides just to wing it mostly. Cooking with her mother has become somewhat of a bonding activity. Really good at baking, especially things like brownies and cookies. However, she will also throw pickles, peanut butter and ice cream in a blender and swear it tastes fantastic. Is learning to cook more because everytime she sees Cass eating a boiled chicken breast she takes psychic damage. Trying to sneak meat alternatives into Cass without her noticing. It worked once.

Tim:

Not great. Will follow the recipe to the letter and will somehow still fuck it up. He mostly sticks to simple recipes that are hard to mess up, and also just doesn't have the desire to spend heaps of time in the kitchen. He does make a mean sandwich though, every time someone tries to replicate one its just never as good.

Duke:

Doesn't particularly enjoy cooking but he's fine at it. Not as bad as Cassandra, he will season his food, but prefers it to be quick and not complicated. Loves heavier foods like pastas and other carbs but doesn't have the patience or desire to make them from scratch so he uses jar sauces, frozen potatoes etc. Will put taco seasoning on everything.

Damian:

Good eventually. Doesn't cook a lot now, but when he was younger he had a kind of 'well obviously its not difficult, its just cooking' mindset. He was humbled. By Dick. I think when he's older he is much better. Will still follow a recipe so it is perfect every time. It isn't a hobby, just a task that must be completed, but he'll be damned if he's eating bland food, he will spend an hour preparing vegetable tagine. Nobody can help of even be in the kitchen with him while he is cooking, because they are breathing all the kitchen air and taking up all the room. Get out.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Oooo I hope this challenge gets you out of your funk! How about # 2 with John Marino please!

It probably sadly won't since I seem to go through many fazes of writter's block funk. I love interacting with you guys though, so 'i might start doing more events like this in the future or events in general. I've found that if I don't have time to sit down and write the entire fic in one sitting it will sit in my google drive for months... and that's my toxic trait. I love that you requested Johnny. 💞

Drabble Challange

"How long have you been standing there?"

John knew how to be quiet, even with how tall he was he was good at sneaking up on people according to you. But according to him, it was your own fault because you got stuck in your own world espically when talking to your almost 8 month baby bump. John was leaning against the wall in the kitchen as you were standing at the stove at almost 3 AM wishing you were in bed instead. But your sweet baby girl was craving some mac and cheese. The thing about pregnancy cravings that no one told you about was that it wasn't a simple craving. It was if your throat and mouth became completely dry like a dessert until your lips touched whatever it was that you were craving. Which is why you were standing in your kitchen at the 3 AM, the only light on in your apartment being the little light coming from the top microwave over the stove.

"I hope you know how much I love you that I am making mac n cheese right now." you spoke softly, as you rubbed your stomach trying to smooth the kicking.

"hey that one hurt sweet babygirl." you whisper shouted, letting out a surprised yelp as she kicked your ribcage again. "girlie you better stop." as you smoothed down your stomach.

John cracked a full blown smile from you yelling at your unborn babygirl for being such a kicker. Coming up softly behind you, his presence still unknown to you. "baby why didn't you wake me?" John gently asks finally making his presence known.

"Jesus." jumping slightly surprised to see John standing in the entry of the kitchen. "How long have you been standing there?" you ask pointing the wooden spoon you were cooking with at him as if it was a weapon. All John does is laugh as he quietly appraches you wrapping his arms around your swollen stomach putting his hand on top of yours.

"not long. but long enough to know you shouted at babygirl." he chuckles.

"hey whisper shouted" you agure back lightly laughing. "and I didn't wake you up because you have to leave early tomorrow for that roadie.

"I don't wanna go." he admits. All you do is sigh, turning around in his arms.

"Johnny." you whisper.

"What if something happens?" finally letting his anxiety about being across the country from you being spoken out loud.

"Then your a phone call away baby. We talked about this. Babygirl is due in the middle of the season. You gotta work until she's here so you take off when she is born." you reasoned. John knew you were right but it didn't help him feel better.

"But I'll miss all the late night cravings." he agrued,

"I will call you then. But you are leaving tomorrow."

"fine." he finally agreed on one condition "but only if I get a bowl of that mac and cheese." A cheeky grin on his lips.

"That's not up to me and we both know that." Both of. you laughing at a the realization that it's up to however much your babygirl feels she needs.

[andbreakmynose]

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own

part 1

your first date with the hot single dad you may or may not work for...

(the car! alex, single dad! alex)

WARNINGS: SMUT, feelings, age gap (reader is mid 20s), p-in-v (protected), oral (f receiving)

WORD COUNT: 5k

You hadn’t been this giddy over a man since Aiden Grant called you pretty on an Instagram post when you were 12, although you also hadn’t been with anyone like Alex fucking Turner.

Barely anyone knew you even worked for Alex; he didn’t want them to for his own privacy. You understood that, he was a private person and especially so when it came to his child. You didn’t have a problem with telling acquaintances that you worked for a rich man and not saying anything else, they usually understood. It’s never been a problem until now.

When you came home after that fateful night all giggly and smiling your roommate had more than a few questions. The alcohol in your system got you dangerously close to spilling but you came up with some lie last minute, you couldn’t remember what you said in that drunken haze but apparently it was enough to get Claire off your case.

You wanted to tell her though, you wanted to tell the world and you couldn’t. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t tell anyone that you had kissed - no, fucked - Alex Turner. Not in a bragging way, in the way that you wanted someone to tell you to calm down and slap some sense into you. You wanted to be able to ask someone for advice, to know that you weren’t making some grave mistake. It was times like these you wished that you took that advertisement in the mail for three months of free therapy.

Alex, in a sort of way, became that person. He was too busy to really talk the rest of the week, but his gentle gestures like kissing you before you left gave you enough reassurance to make it through the night without freaking out.

He felt the same way, there was this underlying fear in his bones that he really had done something terrible. It’s not that he thought he was taking advantage of you, no you’re a grown adult. But you’re the grown adult he has employed, he can’t lose that. If he worked for a company this would’ve been an HR violation. That was a bad feeling.

Waiting for Friday would be unbearable if you weren’t so damn busy. Toddlers don’t have time to accommodate for a complicated love life and it seemed that neither did Alex’s schedule. He wanted you to know that he cared and he was genuinely looking forward to having an actual date with you, but it seemed that every time he tried to start a conversation his daughter would start crying or his phone would start ringing.

It isn't until Wednesday that he actually gets you alone. He has enough time to slip home and grab lunch, and it's late enough that Ayla is already sound asleep for her nap. When he sees you sitting alone on the sofa, his heart swells. There's already something domestic about the scene: you, in his house, comfortable on his furniture. No signs of work, just relaxation—and he likes that.

“Hey. Had a few minutes to sneak out.” He sneaks into the living room, startling you slightly before you smile warmly. You can’t be upset with him, not even for a second—his presence is just too warm.

“There’s some leftover mac and cheese on the stovetop if you want it. Not exactly fine dining, but it was pretty good.” Your words make him laugh, and that feels good. He has a nice laugh, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you made it happen.

“I’ll pack some and take it back to the studio. Don’t really have much time,” he says, glancing down at his watch—probably more expensive than your car. “But I did want to talk. Y’know, about Friday.”

You nod and sit up properly, straightening your back so you don’t look lazy. He notices but doesn’t comment; it’s cute to him that you’re still trying to impress him when he already finds you so special.

“So I’ve been thinking... and talking...” He leans against the doorway, smiling. “I made a reservation at that restaurant for 6:30, and I’ve already talked to Matt. He’s more than happy to watch Ayla for the night. You know how excited she’ll be to see them.” He beams at his own productivity, clearly pleased with how he’s going above and beyond for you.

The mention of Matt confuses you. You’ve been nervous about even mentioning the situation to your sister, and yet Alex already told Matt? It makes sense, you guess—Matt understands celebrity life and knows how to keep secrets. He seems decent enough from the few times you’ve met him, but the idea still makes you feel something strange.

“Matt knows about... us?” you ask, hesitating slightly. You don’t want to seem upset—you’re not upset—but you do want clarification.

Alex picks up on your nerves instantly. It’s obvious in the way your fingers dig into your knee and your teeth worry at your lip. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about that. I told him an old friend is coming to town for drinks and that you weren’t available anyway.”

Damn Alex and his talent for easing your nerves. You exhale the deepest breath you’ve taken in a while. It’s all good. “Ah, okay. I was just wondering if you were telling the whole world about us,” you joke, knowing he isn’t. You needed to say something to lighten the mood, more for yourself than for him.

He laughs at your joke, and he doesn’t even need to say no—you already know he wouldn’t want to jinx things yet. He’s about to speak again when his watch buzzes, prompting a disappointed sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, he’d rather spend all day staring into your wide, pretty eyes.

“I’m excited for tomorrow, yeah? We’ll drop her off at 6:00 and then head out. I really am excited. You don’t even know.” He sounds slightly nervous, and it’s cute to see that you can make him feel that way. You don’t know what you did to deserve it.

"I’m excited too.” Your voice is warm, matching the smile on your face. You’re not entirely sure what to say, but you know just how excited you are to have something with him. His expression softens as he lifts himself from the doorframe.

“I’ll see you later, darling. Take care.” And with that, he’s gone, but you can’t blame him—you know how busy he always is. The word "darling" bounces around in your head, a reminder that this isn’t a dream. He really does like you.

Thursday night is spent stressing over what to wear. You know Alex will show up in his usual suit—one of his quirks that drives you wild—but you don’t want to overdo it. It’s just dinner, but your work clothes won’t cut it. You certainly can’t show up in sweats to a date with Alex Turner.

You settle on a dress you haven’t worn since your ex-classmates wedding to her now ex-husband. It’s not the nicest, but it will do. You have a sneaking suspicion that Alex would like you in a trash bag anyway. You roll the dress up and tuck it in your bag—no way you’re wearing it to work where it’d end up covered in marker and spit.

Friday’s anxiety convinces you that you’re doing your job horribly. You must have forgotten something or messed up because your mind is all Alex, Alex, Alex, like he’s a parasite who’s crawled into your brain.

Knowing he’ll be home around 5:30, you start getting ready at exactly 5:15. You make sure to look presentable, curling your hair and applying a layer of concealer. He’s seen you at your worst—covered in child vomit—but you still want him to see you at your best.

Right on time, he unlocks the front door, and Ayla immediately bounds over to him. He laughs, picking her up and setting her on his hip before his eyes sweep over you. You look good—you always look good—but this time, it’s something else.

He clears his throat, giving a small smile. “You look that good to me?” You don’t want to blush, but you’re sure your face is bright red. Of course, you dressed up for him.

“Nah. I dressed up to get spit on,” you joke, stepping forward and ruffling Ayla’s hair just like Alex did. He smiles at the closeness, free from the stresses of the day and surrounded by the people he cares about the most. It’s a good feeling.

He chuckles at your words, raising his eyebrows and making a quizzical face at his daughter as if she’s hiding something. She just babbles, reaching out to pull his sunglasses off and throw them on the floor. Alex shakes his head, pretending to care. You laugh, silently thanking her for letting you see Alex’s eyes again. He really does have the nicest eyes.

“Those were my nice pair, you rascal.” You’ve never heard him upset and this is no exception, even when he’s pretending to be upset he still has so much love in his voice. “Y’know I was gonna surprise ya by taking you to Uncle Matt’s for the night but it seems like you’re being a little punk tonight.” The girl immediately cries out and shakes her head, protesting just the thought of not going to Matt’s.

“Aw alright, you’re too darn cute to deny. Plus I have to do things anyways tonight.” This makes Ayla clap excitedly and make small noises, Alex giving her a smile before looking up with a wink. You secretly knew that the plans he had tonight consisted of you, and you wink right back at him. “You pack her night bag?” He asks you, it was the one thing he asked in the morning so of course you did it. You were always 10 steps ahead and he loved that.

“Mhm!” You nod and gesture to the pony-printed bag behind you. It was a gift you had gotten her for Valentine’s day earlier this year. Alex nods and walks over, daughter still in hand, to grab the bag and swing it over his shoulder. He’s signaling that it’s time to go.

You follow after him silently into his black sports car, taking Ayla from him to help buckle her into her carseat. You hop in the passenger's side and he sets the radio to the kid’s channel. Alex looks back at his daughter with a wide grin, even if he doesn’t particularly tolerate these songs he knows that it makes her happy. He starts to sing along to some song about waffles, god it’s awful but somehow his crooning makes it sound like a 1950s love song. You smile at the scene while Alex pulls out of the driveway.

That’s how the whole drive goes, it’s only about 15 minutes but all 15 of them are spent with Alex singing his heart out just to please his kid. “Is this on the new album?” You remark with a teasing grin at one song about silly snakes, Alex just laughs and reaches out to gently swat your arm.

That moment confirmed to you that your relationship with Alex had changed, not a single other person you worked with would have touched you. And Alex wasn’t just touching you sexually but he was touching you in a warm, familial way. For a second it felt just like you were old lovers and your kid, not what you really were.

It’s an easy handoff to Matt, Ayla is excited to see everyone and all you really have to do is hand off the night bag, Alex trusts them enough that he doesn’t even consider worrying for the night. When he’s sure the door is shut he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the car. You’ve come to love his hands; they were gentle and warm, yet also calloused from years of experience. They were the most Alex Turner hands you could possibly think of.

He starts the car again, making sure to shift the stereo to his personal mix of 2000s garage rock and 1960s french jazz. It was such an eclectic combination but it told you everything you needed to know about him, you felt warm as he hummed along to the words you didn’t really understand.

The restaurant was about a 30 minute drive, it was mostly silent besides the few times Alex pointed out things in the city. He showed you which venues he had played and which stores he had shopped in, he made sure to recommend the sweaters at some luxury store that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. When you told him you loved his sweaters he made a mental note to get one for you for the holidays, or to lend you one of his own.

Like he said, the restaurant is formal but cozy. It reminds you of something from Lady and the Tramp, or maybe Ayla had just made you watch that movie on repeat in the past week. He hands the keys off to the valet worker and grabs at your hand again, leading you inside.

“Turner, party of 2,” he says to the hostess with a smooth voice, looking over at you to remind you that you’re his party, his date. The hostess grabs two menus and leads you to a secluded booth in the corner. There’s a candle and roses on the table, which you didn’t notice at any others. Maybe he had done that special just for you.

He orders the two of you a glass of wine and a basket of bread, pointing out his favorite items on the menu. You decide on some fancy seafood pasta, Alex mumbling that it was a good choice.

This is your first time ever alone with Alex for a prolonged period, you’re not quite sure what to expect. He starts the conversation off easily, asking about your day and telling you about his. The endless flow of drinks and food (everytime you ask to order something he says yes - reassuring you that he couldn't care less about the price) makes it all really easy. There’s just chemistry between you and Alex.

He tells you about touring and you tell him about your childhood dog, he tells you what it’s like to be famous and you tell him about your experience in college. There’s such a difference in lifestyles but it doesn’t seem to matter at this moment, he’s completely enthralled by your life. It almost feels like you’re sharing similar experiences, he understands everything you say and is able to respond in such a damn charming way.

The food is unreasonably good, like maybe in the top five you’ve ever had. The flavors are rich and you wonder for a second how you’ll go back to fast food and microwaved dinners after this. At some point Alex decides he wants a bite from your plate so he puts his fork in it, there’s an awkward clash of arms that has you both giggling.

“You want some of mine? It’s only fair,” he asks you, a small amount of pasta sauce stuck under his bottom lip. You want to reach out and fix it but you’re too preoccupied with his words. You give a nod and he picks up his fork, grabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips. You were totally fine with getting your own bite but he had different plans, and the scene made you feel more like you were in Lady and the Tramp.

His food was also too damn good and you let out a satisfied groan, him grinning and reaching out to clean your lip. You figure since he did it you can do it too, so you take your thumb and gently wipe down his lip. It’s a quiet sort of encounter but it’s full of so much tension and unspoken words, god why was pasta sauce turning you on?

He finally removes his hand from your face and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You can tell at that moment that you’ve crossed a bridge and probably won’t be able to keep your hands off each other anymore, it’s good that there isn’t that much food left.

He keeps his arm tight against you as you eat, like he’s afraid you’ll run on him. The food doesn’t take too long to finish, at least on your behalf. It’s so good that you can’t stop filling your mouth. And when you’re done and Alex has a bit left it’s a treat that you get to watch him eat for a second, his mouth alternates between telling stories and chewing, his perfect lips always moving.

The waiter asks if you want dessert but you two were both too full, and Alex gives you a look that says he has dessert prepared for later. It’s a silent promise that reminds you of what happened last time we were together and has your heart beating faster in anticipation.

He pays the bill (you don’t even bother to look at how many figures are on there) and then takes you back to his car. His hand never leaves your back, sometimes drifting down to the curves of your ass. The valet man hands him his keys back, he tips heavily, and you’re heading back to his place. Nervous anticipation fills both of your throats.

“That was maybe the best food I’ve ever had.” You tell him as you take a seat in his car, buckling your seatbelt and smiling at him.

He nods and hums, following your actions and expression, “Glad you think so. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” He starts the car and his music begins to play again, you had heard this song before. Maybe because of him. “I really like that dress on you sweetheart, so damn gorgeous.” He breaks the silence after a minute, voice husky and smirk on his face. He did mean the sexual connotations behind his words but he also just really liked the dress, you were a gorgeous girl and seeing you dolled up for him was lovely.

“Aw thanks.” You reply, feeling your face heat up a bit. You still weren’t quite used to his compliments, he shouldn’t be saying you looked gorgeous when he looked like a damn god. He drives in silence for a second, taking occasional glances over at you with that smirk on his face.

“I have a confession to make...” he gives you a devilish grin, a small laugh trying not to escape him, “I get really touchy feely when I’m a bit drunk. But emphasis on the touchy part.” And then he laughs, he really can’t hold it in and neither can you. He has you laughing while simultaneously attempting to not pay attention to the burn between your thighs.

He smiles back at you, he loves your laugh, and then turns the stereo up a bit. He wants to get you back home and fast, this week of waiting for you has just driven him crazy. You’re able to get comfortable and let the music distract your busy mind, your eyes stay peeled to the window so you don’t notice how his hand is flexing against the steering wheel.

He leads you to the kitchen when you get home, the same place this all began. He opens the wine cabinet and starts to look, but you interrupt, “I shouldn’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow.” He nods and lets out a small sigh, that’s right. You were his daughter’s damn babysitter, not a girl he brought home from the bar. He has to repeat this thought as your cleavage is right in his face. “Yeah, that’s fine...”

Another second of silence fills the room, you know what he’s thinking about but is too shy to say. It’s a bit endearing how he doesn’t want to come across as too forward. “Alex... if you want to fuck me you can just say it. I can see you staring down my tits.”

He’s halfway through a drink of wine when you say this and he ends up coughing it up, he didn’t expect you to say anything. Good, maybe he wasn’t the only one being so sexually desperate here. “Right... well I think I’d like that.” He regrets saying that instantly, it sounds so stupid. He wants to fuck you with ever fiber of his being and he’s saying he “thinks” he’d like that. God he feels like an idiot.

He was still shy, and to be honest so were you. It had been a while and the first times with anyone were always scary. But you still nodded at his words and tilted your head towards his bedroom, if there was anytime nerves would be the lowest it would be now when you were both a bit tipsy.

Alex swallows and takes the lead, grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom. You had been there before to grab things for the kid before but this felt different, you weren’t there for your job. You were in his room and you were about to have sex with him.

Before you can finish looking around he grabs you by the waist and captures your lips in a searing kiss, too much pent up desire to wait for any longer. You’re caught off guard but still end up moaning into the kiss, Alex can only think about how he wants to hear more of those moans. Something must’ve taken hold of him because he gets the confidence to push you towards the bed, starting to work at the zipper with his long fingers.

He gets the zipper all the way down and you can barely register it before your dress is on the floor, leaving you in your underwear set. It wasn’t really the nicest but it still had Alex’s breath hitching. “Fucking gorgeous body. You know I’d return the favor from last time but I think if I’m not inside you soon I might perish and die.”Always one for the dramatics.

You give a small giggle at his words, reaching your hand out to gently palm his prominent bulge through his trousers, he hisses at just the littlest bit of contact. There’s a tangle of limbs as you try to get his clothes off and he tries to get your lingerie off, it’s awkward and messy and you almost feel like a high schooler again. Everything about Alex makes you feel like a high schooler again.

After you’re both completely undressed he joins you on the bed, pushing you back and settling on his knees. He starts to gently part your legs to look at your soaked cunt, running his middle and pointer fingers through the folds to collect your wetness. “Your cunt is pretty too, you know that? I think I’ve changed my mind, I need to taste you.”

Before you can even respond (which you probably wouldn’t have been able to respond with words anyways) his lips are attached to your sex. You let out a loud whine and attach your hand into his hair, pushing him deeper. He brings his mouth up slightly higher and his nose budges at your clit, that perfect fucking nose. It’s only been a minute and he already has you shaking and letting out endless streams of whines. He’s reveling in your taste, he thinks he could survive purely on the taste of your juices.

He develops a rhythm of licking at you, sucking at your clit, and peppering kisses along the sensitive folds. It’s intoxicating and you’re sure the words you’re saying don’t make sense, the only ones you can recognize coming out of your mouth are “Alex” and “Fuck.” He’s obsessed with your cunt but at the same time he’s hard in a way that’s making him uncomfortable, so he pulls his lips away much to your whining protest.

“Shh.. shh... sorry sweetheart. I just need to fuck you now,” he says in a voice smoother than butter. As he shifts to having his hips in between your legs your eyes meet the throbbing member in front of you. The head is red and you can see the pulsing. Yeah, it makes sense he needed to fuck you. He takes his time to line his head up with your folds, he needs that first thrust to be perfect as silly as it sounded.

After he decides on his placement he places his hands on your shoulders and starts to push himself in. It’s a stretch for you but in the best way, you hadn’t been filled by a cock in so long and now the most beautiful one was opening you up. Your tight caverns had Alex matching your groans, leaning down so he can kiss you again.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all mine.” He says in between kisses, starting to move his hips at a pace that has you both satisfied and begging for more. You’re his, you’re completely his. If there was any question about it before. You didn’t care that he was technically your employer anymore, at this second he was your lover and maybe the best lover you had ever had.

“Yes Alex, I’m yours. All yours,” you moan out, every thrust causing new goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Now fuck me harder, please.” You add on, causing him to laugh.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he says before picking up the pace. He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, still littering your neck with kisses. If that wasn’t enough he starts to pinch and roll your nipples in his fingers, all the sensations making your eyes roll back. You knew your orgasm was soon, and Alex knew it too. You both wanted this too much to hold on for much longer.

Your moans start to become one constant stream of noises and his grunts start to become more guttural, the coil in your lower stomach was starting to build up and you just needed to push towards that release a bit more. He took note of this and brought his thumb from your nipple to your clit, circling it quickly like if he didn’t make you cum, he’d be executed. His own release was nearing and he could feel himself start to twitch inside of you.

“Can I cum fuck - inside?” He groans out, always the gentleman. He’s really damn turned on by the idea of cumming inside before but he’s seen what that can do before and doesn’t exactly want to deal with that again. You nod your head, you’re glad he asked but you’ve been on birth control since you were 15 for period cramps.

“On the pill!” You scream out. And it’s so embarrassing but that’s the last thing you’re able to say before the coil inside of you snaps and you’re cumming all over his cock, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He’s decided that making you cum is his new favorite thing in the world, the noises you make and the way your body is reacting drives him to his own release. With a final thrust and groan he’s leaning forward against you and emptying inside of you.

He cums a lot; you knew that from sucking him off, but now it was inside of you. And even when he pulled out, despite missing how he felt, you still felt pretty full. You were full of his remains; he likes that just as much as you. He spends a second to smile at your spent cunt leaking him before he snaps out of it.

"I'll, uh, I’ll get a towel, yeah?” He says, still catching his breath, before walking off to grab what he said. You miss him for the two minutes he’s gone, and when he returns, you feel like he’s just gotten back from war. He gently cleans your sex off and then puts the glass of water aside for you on the nightstand.

Collapsing onto the bed next to you, he pulls you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. “That was perfect; I hope you let me do it again.” Of course you’d let him do it again; you’d let him fuck you right now if you weren’t kind of tired.

“You can fuck me whenever we both have the time; that’s my promise to you. And maybe we’ll go to that restaurant again? It was good!” He chuckles and nods, playfully ruffling your hair and placing another kiss on your head.

“I’ll take you wherever you want; you're mine now, and I mean it.” He pulls you against your side, and you know the truth to his words—you were entangled with him, whatever the implications were. You were his. And now you were about to sleep in his bed.

He wakes up before you; he knows he has to go pick up the kid from Matt's, and it’d be odd if you went too. He slips on a shirt and jeans for the day, more casual than he was used to, and lets his eyes roam over your sleeping form. Your nakedness was a reminder of everything you did that night, but your eyes closed, and the smile on your face was a reminder of the deeper meaning to it all. He couldn’t wait to explore that more.

He thought about you the entire drive to Matt's—not just how you felt under him but how you made him happy. He could’ve been embarrassed by how whipped he was this quick, but it was a long time coming. His mind drifts back to how pretty you were last New Year's when he had you take Ayla to the “family” party.

When he gets to Matt's, Ayla is beyond excited to see him, running up and pulling his leg into a hug. He hugs her back for a second and then gestures for her to walk to the car; he’s about to follow, but Matt stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you were holding hands with your babysitter last night, Alex?”

A/N: kinda hate this but i needed to get it out. title from jane eyre again <3 love dad alex

[goqmir]

if you want to be a chef in this day and age you have to want to fuck the food. it used to be that you could get away with just desiring food-related sex-- in western saloons in the late 1800s, for instance, there were often gouges in the floorboards leading from the cook's favorite lovemaking bedroom in the inn to the nightly spot laid out for the salad bar trolley. Now, though, you have to have sexual urges about the food itself. If you don't, you will be easily outclassed by those overworked bakers who stop for condoms on the way home after they score some extra jelly-filled pastries from work, or the Michelin star chefs who have hours of mac and cheese stirring ASMR saved in a YouTube playlist. They simply want the food more than you do. Every chef with a decent career in the fine dining world has that not-so-hidden secret. If you can afford it, expensive dishes usually have wonderful texture-- just ask Gordon Ramsey and his fridge full of crab puffs-- but if you can't, I would recommend first starting out with something affordable you can easily keep on hand, with little preparation time and a decent texture. Of course, not all beginning chefs follow this advice-- a lot of dedicated chefs attempt to start fucking the food after learning about this subculture, leading to an alarming number of juice fetishists in the sous chef workforce. Unfortunately, many learn too late that you need substance in your food-- some decent texture to rub against-- or you won't get the same experience with food you need in the industry. By that time, of course, the juice kink has set in-- if you see a sous chef pouring apple cider into a pot of mac and cheese, you don't have to ask what it's adding to the flavor profile. A lot of popular picks are easy to reheat in the microwave, not quick to perish, and give a decent enough texture to be satisfying. A common pick is simply bread; filled donuts offer a pleasant pocket and satisfying orgasms; muffins are thick enough where working a hole from its bottom to its top is not only possible, but expected; almost all of the kitchen staff at Red Lobster leaves for the night with a few extra-soft biscuits in their bags. Others have more interesting taste: melty cheeses, the pointiest carrots and pineapples, the claws of lobsters, the most decadent helpings of whipped-cream topped parfaits. This all works fine for a number of years, until you notice your skill as a chef starting to plateau. Many chefs simply stay in this zone, as well enough preparers living happy lives at good jobs. But the best chefs, the headliners, those who prepare the best meals the world has to offer... they take it to the next level. They spend a good, long time preparing the dish they are covering in their cum up to four nights a week. Hours of baking, broiling, dirtied pots and pans. The food preparation is like foreplay, one of the most creative parts of sex and cooking alike. A good chef gets hotter with the pasta in the pot, sizzles along with the eggs in the pan, finds themselves on edge with each slice of the potato into the crock. Until finally, hours into the night, cock hard like a lamppost, after dicking down that beautifully prepared pasta frittata since the sun was still up, they orgasm all across its gorgeous pasta fillings and creamy cheesey insides and finally Understand food. After learning all of this, you may be tempted to go down to your neighborhood spot and ask the chef what they do to deepen the connection between themselves and their meals. Of course, if the neighborhood spot happens to be a bar, you'll probably actually have a line cook-- where instead, you should probably ask what they like most about putting their cigarettes out on twinks.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

can we get a fic where r is a nurse or med student and she just had a terrible terrible day at work and steve just comforts her? ly <3

i know nothing about the medical world so forgive me. kinda basing this from a breakdown i had after orientation for my job then texting a friend for some help.

masterlist

silence. peace and quiet after a twenty-four hour on call shift. no beeping monitors, no patients getting angry with you, no messes to clean up; just you sitting in your car letting your brain melt. and then the tears started to sting, face pinching to withhold yourself but letting the floodgates free. your breathing was labored and your head was getting fuzzy, you hoped no one was a witness to your breakdown.

fingers death gripping onto your leather steering wheel, head falling forward and almost hitting your horn. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to take deep slow breaths, needing to steady yourself before making the thirty minute drive back to your apartment where steve was waiting for you.

steve. with his name popping into your head you reached into your bag, pulling your phone and flipping it open then pressing one to speed dial the landline. the dial tone rang twice and then you heard his voice.

“harrington residence.” just those two words from your husband lifted your sorrows for a moment, allowing you to calmly speak into the receiver. “hi honey.” a sigh of relief before a wet hiccup followed.

you could hear the concern when steve asked, “hey, you off? need me to pick you up?” already knowing you had your car with you, but also knowing you would be exhausted to drive.

you shook your head even though it wasn’t seen, “no, no. just… just wanted to see if you needed anything?” closing your eyes as the welling tears continued. “want something for lunch? was gonna stop by-“

“it’s fine, honey. i already cooked something for you. just get home safe. i love you.” and he didn’t hang up right away, waiting for you to respond back. a croaked “i love you,” then quick to press the end call button. you took deep calming breaths, five in five out, before starting the engine and cutting the radio off.

you kept to the speed limit, sometimes going three over or even five under causing people to honk and speed past you. you didn’t have the energy to care about their pissed stares, just counting the stop lights until you hit your block, rolling into the complex then pulling into your parking spot.

your bones felt like liquid as you gathered your bags and drinks, locking your car then heading up the one flight of stairs. a quick left then past three doors and you stood outside yours, number 736, a lovely floral reef circled the peep hole.

with a heavy hand you slid your key into the lock, turned the knob and was greeted to the warm lighting and laugh track blaring from the tv. the lingering smell of mac and cheese with some baked chicken and steamed veggies caused your stomach to gargle.

“hey pretty.” steve’s smooth voice slid into the hallway with you, his hands reaching out to take your load off your shoulders.

he made sure to keep your belonging organized and hang your coat on the rack. he knelt to the floor and helped tug your sneakers off your aching feet before ushering your further into the apartment to the couch.

reruns of your favorite sitcom light the room as steve leaned in to press a tender kiss on your left temple, eyes closing in contentment. “i’ll be back with our food.”

steve was gone less than five minutes and you could feel your eyes growing heavy as each second passed, head lulling to rest on the back of your couch. you smiled and chuckled low at a joke you already knew, but it still tickled you pink.

“kept it in the oven to stay warm. hope it taste good, i followed the recipe for the mac and chicken, but you know me.” steve set the two plates on the small table covering your feet. “how’s my girl doing?”

he rested a palm to your left thigh and rubbed over your scrubs comfortably. you took a deep inhale before sighing out, “draining.” the one word sufficient in summarizing everything.

steve hummed, “sorry. but luckily you’re taking the next two days off. how about we just rot in bed for one day and then be slightly adults the next day. how’s that sound?” his browns eyes darkened and shaded with the flickering light.

leaning your head onto his right shoulder and fighting sleep you yawned out, “sounds perfect.” the laugh track and commercials becoming your white noise.

[dahliamalfoy97]

DADDY - TOJI (Toji Fushiguro x Reader)

word count: 3,356

WARNING: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Daddy kink, age gap, size kink, degradation kink, choking, slapping, praise kink, penetration, oral sex, blowjob, creampie, etc.

Summary: It’s pretty cliche and the title is pretty self explanatory. Because Toji is a total Daddy and you can’t change my mind.

A/N: also hate towards Megumi because I absolutely adore him and love him in real life too. But his dad is just too fine too not write a one shot about.

Tears stained your cheeks as you found yourself on the steps of the only place you could think of. You didn't know where else to go. It was raining and your clothes were beyond soaked. But you didn't care.

Your knocked on the door. You stood there drained of your usual energy.

A few minutes pass and footsteps approach on the other side. Followed by a clicking sound. The door opens.

"Y/N?" That deep voice is all it takes for your tears to start again.

Big arms immediately pull you into a hard chest. His big frame overtaking your small one. You can't help but cling onto him, your head barely going past his waist.

"Y/N, what's wrong? What happened? Why are you in the rain ? Where's Megumi?"

At the mention of the reason you came here, you sob some more. Unable to speak.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you out of the rain and warmed up and then you can tell me what's wrong."

You nod silently, not wanting to let go. Just wanting to be held. Even though it was wrong. But it was Toji and Toji always brought you comfort when you needed it.

He sighs softly, before picking you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you cling to him.

You bury yourself in his chest, inhaling his comforting-yet intoxicating masculine cologne a mix of cedar and rain. As you allow him to carry you around.

He sets you down finally, on the stool next to the kitchen counter.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"Do you have any Mac and Cheese?"

He grins, "I've always got Mac and cheese for you."

You can't help but smile softly. Toji had always been there for you. Even when you're own father wasn't. He was always around to take care of you. Which is why he was the first place you sought for solace tonight.

"So tell me, what happened ?"

His dark eyes stare at you intently, you glance away, feeling your cheeks flush at the attentive way he looked at you. You fidget with the hem of your soaked T-shirt.

"I caught Megumi and Nobara together."

Toji stops what he's doing, jaw clenching. His big hands gripping the bowl turning white, "you're fûcking serious?"

You shake your head, the image of seeing your boyfriend and your best friend together was etched into your brain.

"I'm going to murder that dumbass."

You can't help but laugh a little, " you can't murder your own son, Mr. Fushiguro."

"He's no longer a son of mine, if he cheated on a beautiful woman like you."

Your heart can't help but warm at his words. And just like always, you couldn't help but feel a little flustered as well.

But you always had brushed the thought away, because this was your boyfriend's dad. He was almost like a father to you. But you knew the thoughts you had about him weren't of him being a father. No you wanted him touch you in sinful ways. You had always had a secret crush on him, but Megumi had asked you out first. But now that Megumi had cheated, your desire for Toji was stronger than ever.

Toji was a very well built man. You never knew what his job really was other than he did some undercover agent stuff. But he was beyond stacked with muscles and broad shoulders and thick thighs that were often the center of your fantasies. He had black messy hair and blue eyes. It was like God hadn't missed a single detail when it came to Toji. For he was perfect in every way.

Just looking at him makes your nipples harden and your thighs clench. Which is all visible because of your damp T-shirt. To which his blue eyes lock on. His hands have set the bowl down.

He stalks towards you, his eyes dark. He takes your chin and grips it with long fingers., "seriously I would kill him for you, I'd do anything for you. You're so fucking perfect. You deserve to be treated like a queen. Because that's what you are. No - you're a fucking goddess." His finger brushes along your lower lip, to which you suck in a breath.

"T-Toji," you stutter, words caught in your throat.

"Sweetheart, can I show you how you deserve to be treated?"

Tears have escaped, to which be wipes them away, making you shudder.

"Please," you whisper.

That's all he needs, before descending his mouth on yours, cradling your face with his big hands. You can't help but whimper at the gentle way he holds you. As if you're fragile and need to be protected. But as soon as you let out that whimper that's all it takes for him to snap, and his gentle kisses turn into hungry ones. He picks you up by the waist, setting you on the counter. His lips never leaving yours. He bites your lip gently before pushing his tongue into your mouth, growling when you moan and tug at his hair.

"That son of mine has no idea, what he's throwing away,," he growls through kisses. "But know from this moment on, you're mine."

You let out another whimper at his possessive claim, speechless once again. Your moans become even louder as his lips leave yours to start leaving kisses along your neck. He tears your shirt, exposing your bra to which he quickly rips too. Leaving your top half completely exposed. You can't help but attempt to cover your breasts. Feeling shy. But he stops this by gripping your wrists.

"Don't you dare cover yourself. You are fucking gorgeous, sweetheart."

He lets go of your wrists to your breasts into his big hands, before taking them into his mouth one by one, which has you arching into him. He was so massive, yet so gentle with you and you loved it. You reach down to palm him through his pants. You about lose it over feeling how massive and hard he felt in your hands.

To which he smirks, "I haven't even done anything and you're already about to cum for me aren't you?"

"I need you Toji," you beg. "I need you to fuck me."

He chuckles, his low laugh going straight to your core, "all in good time, don't worry I'll fuck you good. So good that you'll forget all about that idiot son of mine.And you'll always think of me. But for now, I want to worship you. Worship the goddess you are."

With that his hands travel down to your panties which were soaked. And not from the rain. You shiver when he runs a finger long the outside.

He groans immediately, then his eyes turn feral when he takes them off. You bite your lip when his finger brushes along your clit, feeling how wet you were. Especially when he was still fully dressed and you were completely exposed to him.

"Fuck you are dripping," he slowly sinks a finger in. You shift at the feeling. His finger was so long, Megumi's had never been this long. "Did I do this to you? Did I make you this wet?"

You nod silently, clenching around his finger as a plead for more.

His finger pulls out and he slaps your pussy, making you cry out at the sting "answer me."

"Yes," you mumble, "you made me this wet."

"And who does this pussy belong to?"

"You. It belongs to you, Mr. Fushiguro."

He slaps your pussy again, "that's not my name. Who does this pussy belong to?"

"YOU!" you cry out. "It belongs to you, Daddy."

He smirks, "that's right. This pussy is mine."

With that he kneels down in between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. He spreads your legs apart. Baring your throbbing pussy to him.

"Now who am I again?"

"Daddy," you answer immediately.

"Good girl."

That's all he needs before diving in, his face buries between your thighs, running his tongue along your clit, before sucking it entirely and your grip his hair tightly as he devours you hungrily, as if you were his own personal feast and he couldn't get enough of you.

"Daddy," you moan frantically, grinding your pussy on his tongue. Swirling and sucking, he was sending you into a desperate frenzy. It was like he knew your body so well. "Feels so good."

He growls in approval, "you taste so fûcking good angel"

Angel has you coming undone in an instant. And you knew this man wasn't anywhere done and it made you desperate for more.

He inserts a finger "so fucking tight," groaning, he starts slowly fûcking you with it before adding another, and then soon adding a third. Stretching you out with his large fingers. Curling and finding your sweet spot, all the while still feasting on you. "Just means I have to stretch you good so you can take me."

"Please. Daddy," you plead, "I need your cock."

"Don't rush me, Angel, let me take my time with you. I don't want to break you."

"What if I want you to break me ? I'm not as fragile as you think."

He bites down on your clit, earning a yelp, "you're getting mouthy. Perhaps I need to punish you instead. I'm much bigger than my son, so."

" I don't want to think about your son, he's not who's cock I want right now. Right now i want- no I NEED your cock to fuck me. And I need you to fuck me as hard as you want so I can forget about him. Because all I want is you and that's all I've ever wanted."

His fingers pause and he stares at me.

"You wanna know a secret ? All my fantasies at night were never about him, they were always about you. But I didn't fantasize about you fûcking me gently; i wanted you to be rough with me. To use me as your toy, your slut-"

With that he pulls his fingers out abruptly, yanking you towards him, kissing you harshly. "Is that what you want? Hmm? You want me to fuck you like a slut?"

"Yes, Daddy."

His blue eyes darken, "fine." He picks you up and sets you on your feet. "Then get on your knees."

You immediately do what he says.

He tugs his shirt off, your mouth waters instantly at how hard he is built. So well defined and chiseled. Fuck. He was the hottest man to ever exist. He takes his pants off next, boxers too. And his big cock springs out.

Fuck if you thought his hands were massive- his cock was monsterous. At least 10 inches and thick. And it was throbbing hard, for you.

"Crawl to me and open your mouth," you immediately do as he says, you settle in front of him, licking your lips before opening wide.

He strokes himself before hitting the tip on your tongue. He slowly pushes in. You immediately choke, he really was massive. And it made you wet. He continued to push it in as far as it could go, you slack your jaw and widen it as much as possible. Fuck it was only halfway in before it hit the back of your throat. His hot precum coating your tongue and you immediately moan at the taste. Then he pulls out before slamming back in. This time not giving you time to adjust as he fucks your mouth brutally. Not showing any mercy and could feel yourself pooling with how rough he was being and how massive he was.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gathers your hair out of your face, before wrapping his hand around your throat. "You want to be fucked like a slut?"

He chokes you slightly causing you gag slightly. His tip constantly hitting the back of your throat in harsh thrusts.

"That's right, you can't even answer because your mouth is too full of my cock. Like the greedy cock slut you are."

You whimper at his mocking tone, he was driving you insane.

His pace never falters, as his cock brutally abuses your mouth. Soon enough he's exploding into to your mouth. He pulls his cock out.

"Such a good cock slut, taking my cock so well," he smirks with pride, and his eyes darken when you swallow it all. "Good girl."

He helps you stand up, before picking you up and dropping you on the counter again. "Do you want to go to my room or do you want me to fuck you here?"

"Please;" you murmur, voice still hoarse from it being brutally fucked, "fuck me here."

He nods before, yanking you so your on the edge, spreading your legs once more. "You tell me if it's too much ? Okay?"

You nod, "please daddy. I need you."

You watch as he closes the distance between your bodies, grabbing his shaft and stroking it with those big hands. He runs it up and down your opening, teasing your clit. He does this. Back and forth, teasing you.

You're practically in tears at this point, desperately wanting him inside you.

"TOJI FUSHIGURO if you don't stop teasing me right now-" he covers your mouth with his hand.

"Good girls get what they want. If you're going to be bratty then I can drag this out all night long."

Up and down, mixing his precum with your arousal. Then finally, he lines up the tip with your entrance, and slowly begins to push the head in. You suck in breath, because just his head is massive itself. His cock was going to split you into pieces.

"Fuck, you are so damn tight," he grips your waist in his other hand as if to steady himself. He continues pushing, slowly stretching your gummy walls. About halfway in he starts rocking his hips slowly. Slowly opening you up to him. Preparing your for what was to come. “You’re doing so good though. Taking me so well.”

“You’re so big,” you mutter.

But it was honestly no surprise. It was just how he was built. You always loved how small you felt in comparison to him.

Finally he seems to be fully in at the hilt, “fuck I can see myself in your stomach.”

With that he pulls out before slamming back in, and your whole world begins spin as he fucks you hard and fast. You can’t help but cry at the stretch and the burn of him so big and tight in your walls. Stretching you out so deliciously. He’s already reached the spot that sends you into overdrive and you nearly cum right there because he just feels too good.

“I can feel you’ll clenching around me, Angel, you feel so divine. So fûcking good”, he growls. His thrusts becoming harsher, deeper. He presses a hand on you stomach to where the bulge is, “I knew this pussy was made for my cock. I knew it from the second my son brought you home, that you’d be mine. I saw right when you looked at me, the way you always pressed your thighs together whenever I said your name. Don’t think I don’t know of the times I’ve caught you looking at me, when you think no one is looking. You were always mine. And you always will be. This pussy,” he emphasizes by rubbing it with his thumb while he continues to fuck you. Never stopping, never faltering, “is mine. This body is mine, those beautiful tits are mine. Your perfect ass is mine too, it’s all mine. You hear me? Y/N? You’re fûcking mine”.

You nod sobbing out of pleasure and overwhelmed by his words at the same time.

“Say it. Tell me who your pussy belongs too.”

“You,” you babble, “my pussy is yours, I’m yours Daddy. Always yours.”

You can feel your stomach tightening as you begin to come undone.

“I can feel you clenching around me, are you ready to come for me?”

You nod your head, “yes daddy, I’m going to cum. Don’t stop.”

“Alright go ahead and cum for Daddy,” he commands. He leans forward and gives you sloppy kiss.

And you do. You fall apart around him in pure bliss. When you finish. He picks you up, not pulling out, and carries you to the wall.

Trapping you against the wall, uses it as leverage to start pounding into you again. You fling your arms around him gripping into his back for purchase as he rams into you. More animalistic before.

“I love how small your body feels against mine. How soft it feels,” he praises, using his hands to grip your waist to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Such perfect body for me to destroy.”

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, your nails digging into his back. You never wanted this to end. Whatever dream this was. You never wanted his body to separate from yours.

“I bet Megumi never fucked you this good did he? He could never give you what I can, what you need, can he?”

You shake your head, “no. No one fills me up like you.”

Several more thrusts and you’re coming to another high.

“Are you on the pill? I really want to come in you.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t have time when I ran from my apartment.”

“Shît, well then I’ll pull out.”

But you grip his wrist, “no don’t, I want you to cum in me. “

He stills for a moment, gripping your chin, forcing you to look him into those blue eyes, that were on the verge of insanity, “you realize what you’re saying right?”

“Yes. I want you to fill me up, Daddy.”

“Fucking hell,” he growls before he once again picks you up, and carries your body to the couch. He slams into you even more desperadoes than before, hooking your legs over his shoulders to hit your spot from a new angle. “You want me to breed you Is that it? Want me to fill you up so full with my cum you’ll have no choice but to have seed. I’ll fill this belly up and put a baby in there. Is that what you want?”

“Please Daddy, fill me up. Fill me up with your cum! Breed me!”

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” his thrusts start to become sloppier more desperate. His grunts become more frantic too. “Cum with me Angel.”

He gives you another kiss, intertwining your tongues together. Rubbing you clit, and soon you’re coming undone once more. His release following yours soon after.

“Look at that look at my cum filling you up so full,” You look down to where your bodies are connected and moan. “Good girl. You did so well for me.”

You smirk, you weren’t done with him yet. You hook your legs around him and flip him around. Straddling him and taking guiding him through your folds again.

He chuckles through a low groan, “you’re not done yet?” He helps guide you up and down his shaft. His cock reaching you in new places as you bounce up and down. You loved the feeling of his big cock completely stretching you. You loved the sound of his skin slapping against yours and you especially loved how blissed out he looked. The sounds he made, knowing it was you that made him this way, it was you who made him feel this pleasure.

“Not even close, daddy. You’re mine too. And it’s my turn to show you.”

As you’re riding him, you hear a soft click sound. Footsteps sound.

Toji stills you, you both look to see Megumi walk in. Horror on his face.

“What fuck?”

“Don’t stop, Daddy!” You smirk, and his hips snap up to yours, fûcking into you once more. “Let’s him what’s he’s missing.”

“Of course, Angel, anything for you,” he leans yanks your head forward, to whisper into your ear. “And then we can kill him.“

You just giggle, making sure to look at Megumi.

“Of course, Daddy. Anything for you.”