#just dumping my thoughts on paper or even here helps me get it off my chest

[spacebell]

im starting my yearly birthday existential crisis week early

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: 😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear your father in the garage. It’s a comfort knowing he isn’t in the house. You’ve learned to navigate so that you rarely run into him. The fact of your existence only ever seems to irk him. 

That day, there’s a low rumble between the clank and clunk of his tools. You’re not sure it’s the engine or something else. The last time you glimpsed inside the garage, the engine wasn’t even in that old Bronco he’s worked on for seven years. 

You rub smooth the lines in your forehead and give a long blink. You’ve been squinting at the diamond art for much too long. You sit up and roll your shoulders. You need a break. 

As you emerge from your room, you feel guilty. A break from what? Doing nothing. That’s what your dad always says. Then he laughs and finds something to throw at you. 

You take his lunch box from the floor by the shoe mat and bring it to the kitchen. You open it up and clean out all the containers. Those things you do, as small as they are, like cleaning and making his meals, aren’t enough. He doesn’t fail to remind you of that. 

You dump the uneaten crust from his ham and cheese sandwich as the door from the garage clatters open and lets in the smell of oil and dirt. You turn your attention to the sink as you put the container with the rest. It’s only as you flip the faucet on that you realise the steps aren’t your dad’s. 

“Scuse me,” Sy says. “Don’t mean to bother, but, uh, had a bit of an accident.” 

You face him as he holds out the front of his tee shirt. You gulp. There’s a smear of shiny oil across it, ready to drip onto the floor. Your eyes round. 

“I can clean it in the bathroom, I see you’re busy.” 

He goes to turn away and you put your hands up. The oil won’t come out if he just wipes it into the shirt. You would know since you deal with your dad’s stained jeans.  

He nears as you sidle down to grab the baking soda from the cupboard. He looms, his shadow moving in your peripheral, and you shift the faucet to off. You grab a paper towel and turn to him. You hesitate to reach for him, that seems too much but before you can make a move, he peels his shirt off. 

You flutter your lashes and point to the counter. He lays the shirt out and you open the box of baking soda. He stands back and watches. Heat trickles down your back as you focus on the task. You sprinkle the powder over his shirt. 

You let it soak up as much as it can then blot daintily. 

“You’re clever,” he muses. “Helpful.” 

You shrug. 

“How lucky’s that daddy of yours, huh? You out here cleaning all his mess. You make his lunch?” He peeks over at the sink and you follow his gaze. You nod. “Hm, think he’d be nicer then, wouldn’t ya? Well, I know him, he ain’t a nice fella.” 

You return your attention to his shirt. If your daddy isn’t so nice, why does he come around? You wouldn’t ask even if you could. You can barely concentrate with him exposed like that. 

Your eyes dart over in a fleeting peek. His chest is hair and his stomach thick, his arms too. You’re always aware of how big he is but at that moment, he seems even larger. You look at his shirt. It’ll need more time to soak and wash. 

“Could wash it with the hose, don’t wanna ruin your machine,” he offers as if reading your mind. 

You frown and shake your head. You hold up your finger and flit away with his shirt. You put stain remover on it and dump it in the machine. You set the cycle then hesitate. What will he wear now? 

Your dad isn’t as big. He’s a pretty small guy. He might have something... 

You hurry into the closet of old things and search around. There’s one of those tees he got from a case of Labatts. They always pack the XLs and nothing else. It has some sports team logo on it. 

You go back to the kitchen and offer it to Sy. He crosses to you and accepts it with a smile, “thanks, sugar. That’s mighty nice.” His fingertips brush yours.  

He unfolds the shirt and shakes it out. He pulls it over his head and your eyes crawl down his torso unintentionally. You back up a step as he tugs down the hem, though it hangs short of his belt. Even that is too small for him. 

“You’re not scared of me, are ya?” He asks as he curls his shoulders as if to make himself smaller. 

You shake your head. Shy is all. You’re not eager to mingle with anyone. Nor they, you. 

“You know, I might have a word with your daddy. He shouldn’t be so nasty to ya. ‘Specially all the work you put in.” 

You shake your head frantically and clasp your hands. You know better than that. Even if he’s trying to be nice, it’s the worst thing he can do. 

“What’s wrong? Huh? Just wanna tell him what a good girl ya are,” he crosses his arms and seems to double in size. 

You pout and press your hands together. You cower and takes another step back. His expression turns dire. 

“Sorry, sugar, hope I didn’t upset ya there. I was only... only bein’ nice, ya know? Seems you’re not used to all that.” He drops his hands to his hips. “Fine then, I’ll just have to save them sweet words for you, huh?” 

You look down and chew your lip. You’re not used to the attention. Your dad’s other friends, if you can call them that, just ignore you or laugh at his jokes about you. You nod and turn, gesturing to the sink. You walk up to it, clinging to the excuse to get away. 

“Yeah, I know, you workin’ hard,” he praises. “I’ll be outta ya way now.” 

You bob your head and turn the tap on again. You work at scrubbing the containers, waiting and listening for him to go. When he does, you can breathe again. You’re not so sure why he’s being nice. Not like you can do much but stare. 

💘

When your dad’s at work, you’re as close to peace as you’ve ever been. There’s still that constant restlessness that follows you. The gnawing reality that time is passing you by. That you have no purpose. No direction. 

You envy others. That they have a reason. That they have everything you don’t. They have other people, ones that care, not those burdened with them; they have important work to do; they have fun things to celebrate; graduations, new jobs, marriages. They have voices and you remain unheard. 

You busy yourself with the tidying when he isn’t there. If you try to clean with him around, he only antagonizes you. There’s a roast out for dinner. It will last a few days. Most times, you lose your appetite. You spend all day craving and making the food then lose all desire the moment it’s before you. 

The small pleasures you once treasured fade with each day that starts and ends the same. You can’t feel too bad for yourself. Your dad doesn’t have to keep you. You’re an adult now. Maybe he’ll never say so, or even show it, but he must care, right? 

You finish mopping and start on chopping up the potatoes. You arrange them in the roasting pan around the slab of beef. Then carrots and celery. You save the onions for last because they make you cry. You’re saved from tears by the rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

Curiously, you set the knife down and go to the window. Would your dad be home early? Some days, they shut down the shop when business is slow. 

It’s not him but you recognise the grating on the truck’s nose. The large truck sends up dirt and gravel as it cuts across the worn roadway. Your confusion floods to panic and you rush out the front door.

Is your father hurt? Why else would Sy be here? 

You hover on the top step as he grinds to a stop and shuts the behemoth truck off. The driver’s door creaks as it opens and Sy jumps down. Instead of his usual camo cargo shorts and sweat-dampened tee, he wears a button-up with short sleeves and a pair of brown slacks. It even looks like he combed his beard. 

Your face twists in a grimace. What’s going on? Why is he here? 

He reaches back into the truck and brings out something behind his back. You can’t see it as he keeps his arm bent behind him and shuts the door. He grins and walks up to the house as you watch. 

“How’s it goin’?” He asks brightly. 

You blink. You look at his collar, the top button straining against his thick neck. You lower your gaze to your loose blue tee and barrel jeans. You’re dressed like a laundry line. Your clothes offer no shape, nothing. They just do the job. 

“I, uh, I wanted to surprise ya, and uh, I was thinkin’ ya know, this place deserves a bit of colour,” he chuckles then clears his throat, “and you deserve good things, so, uh, here.” 

He reveals the flowers from behind his back and you blanch. You stare at the dainty petals, white with violet edges. They are pretty. Too pretty for this place or for you. Besides, why would he do that? 

“You don’t like em? Should I have got roses?” He asks. 

You flinch. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. You come down the steps and cautiously reach for the paper cone. He hands it over and you stare at him. Then you smell them. You think that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

“Smell good?” He asks. 

You peer over the petals at him and nod. You’re not sure how to react. What do you do now? You can’t just leave him out in the yard. You raise your thumb and point it over your shoulder and tilt your head. 

“Sure, I’ll come in,” he accepts. 

He steps forward, a bit too close, and you hop backward up the step. You barely keep from tripping. You get onto the porch and spin around, scurrying to the door. You open the door and step to the side to hold it for him. 

He laughs again, “now, I’m a gentleman, sugar.” 

He grabs the door and gestures you through. You take his directive without pause. You hurry inside and he follows. As he stops to take off his shoes, you continue on into the kitchen. 

You search for an adequate holder for the flowers. You find an old canister and set them in it with some water. His presence lurks behind you. You put the bouquet on the table as he looks around. 

“You cookin’ a fine dinner, huh?” He says. “Like I tell your daddy, he’s a lucky man. Any man’d be lucky to have that waitin’.” 

You shrug. He shifts. 

“I don’t mean to take advantage of your kindness but I was gonna ask ya a favour.” 

You look at him blankly. He reaches in his pocket. He pulls a length of silk. A tie. 

“Couldn’t figure this out,” he explains. “Thought maybe you might...” 

You stare at the tie. You remember tying your daddy’s for your grandma’s funeral. That was a long time ago but you think you could remember. 

You swallow down your nerves and approach him. You take the tie and he glances around. He pushes a chair out and sits. He leans his head back. 

“Just wanna make sure I look good for ya,” he says. 

You flip up his collar and bring the silk around his neck. As you do, your thumb brushes his coarse beard. He hums. 

“Don’t worry bout pullin’ my hair,” he scoffs. “Won’t bother me none.” 

You line up his tie, knuckles brushing his shirt as you go through the steps in your hand. You pull the tie snug and fix hit collar. You step back and he sets his head straight. You hug yourself and give him a questioning look. 

“Ya like your surprise?” He asks. 

You look at the flower then nod. 

“And what about the other?” 

You face him again and your brows draw together. 

“Me,” he snorts. 

You purse your lips and shrug. What does he mean? 

“We’ll wait for your daddy, huh? Then I’ll ask his blessing.” He rests his elbow on the table, “and you’ll have dinner all ready, won’t ya?” 

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 49 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley confides in you, loves you, and takes care of as much as he can. When he needs you to help him more than usual, you never complain. As the two of you get ready for a hectic weekend, Bradley makes sure he has his plans in order. And he reminds you that you're always one of his top priorities, even when things get busy.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, oral, smut, cock warming, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

It was dark outside, and you were sitting on the couch with Skittles while you waited for Bradley to get home. Noah was already sound asleep, worn out from an evening of helping you make ants on logs and going for a hike around the block, but you were alert and antsy. All you got was a text from Bradley an hour ago letting you know he was on his way home.

Skittles aimed her puppy eyes right up at you. "I know. I miss him, too." It was kind of funny the way all three Bradshaws had the same brown eyes that made you want to give them anything they asked for. "Okay, fine. But don't tell anyone about it."

You stood and the pup followed you into the kitchen where you cut up a meatball and dumped it into her food bowl. Then you heard the front door open and nearly wiped out on your way back to the living room where Bradley was closing the front door behind him. He had his uniform belt and a ziploc bag filled with his pins in one hand, but he held the other out for you. 

"What happened?" you asked as you tucked yourself against him and examined his face. His expression was unreadable. "Did she sign the paper?"

He nodded as Skittles ran in and sniffed his boot. "Yeah. She signed it," he replied, leaning to kiss your lips as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

"Wow," you whispered, standing in the living room right next to the area rug where you were laying the first time he ever told you about Meredith. "I'm... kind of surprised."

"Me, too." He tossed his belt and pins onto the couch and held you close. 

You didn't want to pry too much, but you were so curious, it was killing you inside. "What was it like when you talked to her?"

Bradley rubbed his face against your hair as he undid the top few buttons of his uniform shirt before wrapping his arm around you again. "It went better than I expected. I was only in the room with her for maybe ten minutes. She..."

You rubbed soft circles against his back as he collected his thoughts. You didn't care how long it took him to get the words out, you just wanted him to know you'd always be here to listen. His heartbeat was strong and steady as you let your head rest on his chest, and he gave you a little squeeze.

When he spoke again, his voice was rough and sent a chill along your back. "She thinks she would have been better off if she had an abortion. And I tend to agree with her in some respects. But my god, I'm so happy she didn't. I can't even think about living without Noah. So I'm happy she didn't do it." His voice broke, and your eyes welled up with tears. 

"Me too, Daddy," you whispered as you started to tug him toward the kitchen. He'd already had a very long week, but now you could take care of him so he didn't have to do it by himself.

"Baby, I'm fucking exhausted. I'm not hungry. Can we just go to bed?"

You nodded and changed direction. "Of course." You worked on the rest of his buttons and helped him out of his shirt. When he sat on the edge of the bed, you knelt to untie his boots and yank them off, and Bradley looked at you with such adoration, it made your cheeks feel warm. You peeled off his socks, too, and when you got up, you sat on his lap. 

"I'm really proud of you for going to talk to Meredith," you whispered. "I hope Noah grows up to be just like you."

Bradley scooped you up and lounged back against the pillows with you on top of him. "Funny thing about that, Princess... I hope he grows up to be just like you."

Less than fifteen minutes later, you lulled Bradley to sleep while you played with his hair and softly kissed his face. "I love you, Princess," he muttered as you rubbed your nose against his. Then you crept back out of bed to make sure everything was in order for the three of you for the following morning, and you stopped in Noah's room to kiss him before getting ready for bed yourself.

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

Wednesday and Thursday were both long days, and once again Bradley had to rely on you to pick up all of his slack when it came to Noah. Cyclone was running him ragged in preparation for the air show. Wednesday, he went to the bank to transfer the money into a new account with just his name and Noah's on it. Thursday, he went back to talk to Tracy as soon as he could leave base. 

When he called and asked her if she could help him put up some extra safeguards for his own peace of mind, she told him she could. When he strolled into her office for the second time in one week, she was talking on the phone and drinking a Red Bull, but she pointed to the conference table and a large folder with his name on the front. He skimmed through a stack of paperwork; she'd really thought of everything. Tracy even had your name listed on several documents along with a few notes for you to read. 

When she ended her call, he said, "Thanks for helping me with this. I want to get it all in order."

"You mean like I told you to do years ago?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Listen. At least I'm doing it now."

"I hope you brought your checkbook this time."

When he eventually got home, you already had dinner on the table, and Noah was eating a piece of broccoli. And sure, he'd just dropped another couple hundred bucks when he wrote out a check, but he'd be damned if anything was going to mess with his family again. He set the folder and checkbook down on the counter and bent to kiss you between bites of your dinner while he tousled Noah's hair. 

"You're home earlier than I thought, Daddy," you remarked when he leaned in for another kiss. "And that's a mighty fine looking checkbook you've got there."

"I've been late too much this week," he whispered, stealing a piece of broccoli from your plate. "It shouldn't be like this."

"Next week will be better," you promised. "After the air show and everything this weekend, next week will be quieter. And then maybe I can plan our trip to Disneyland."

"Shhh!" Bradley scolded playfully, reaching to cover Noah's ears as he started to feed his broccoli to Skittles who was begging next to his chair. "Not so loud." You laughed and pointed to the stove where a plate of dinner was waiting for him. "Thanks, Princess."

Once he settled in, you looked at him with a little smirk. "You know, all of these late nights meant I didn't get to my nail appointment. I wanted to have them done for the hospital tour and the air show."

Bradley grimaced. The tour was tomorrow, and you were already leaving work an hour early to get there on time with him. "I'm sorry. The week really got away from me. I should have reminded you to buy a new outfit or two if you wanted."

"Oh, I did," you told him. "I used my Princess card."

He swallowed hard. He could tell you were subtly asking him for a spanking, and he was more than happy to give it to you, but he had something else in mind for the remainder of the night after Noah was in bed. He glanced at his son who was now picking apart his chicken. "Can you take a raincheck, Baby? I have some other plans for the next few days, but I'd love to get my hands on you next week?"

You raised one eyebrow. "What are your other plans?"

He took a bite of food before he said, "I'll tell you after bedtime. After you show me the clothes you bought."

Eventually he sent you off to change into one of these new outfits while he got Noah ready for bed. "I'll be home more next week, Bub. I promise. We'll have time to read more books. And maybe one night you and I can go to the park and give Mommy a little break?"

His son nodded as he rolled over and closed his eyes. But Bradley didn't really want to give you a break. He wanted you with him and Noah all the time. And after this weekend, he anticipated that feeling would grow even stronger.

When he walked into his bedroom and found you examining yourself in front of  the mirror with a form fitting black dress hugging your body, he groaned. "Are you wearing that for the hospital tour?" he asked, and you looked at him in the mirror. 

"Yes?" you replied. "Unless you think it's too much."

He grunted softly. Of course it was too much. You looked sinful in it. All he had to do is put his hand on your ass, bunch the fabric up an inch, and everyone would be privy to the charms he got to enjoy on a regular basis. His cock grew a little hard just thinking about it, which is why he shook his head and told you, "It's not too much, Baby. Not if you're with me all night."

You smiled and peeled it off, baring yourself to him before reaching for the floral sundress on the bed. "What are you wearing tomorrow night?" you asked.

"My flight suit."

"You can't wear that! It's for work and for looking sexy at home!" you protested as you put the second dress on. 

"Cyclone wants me in my flight suit both days. Please don't make me piss him off."

You laughed and spun in your second dress and he closed the distance to you. "I'll behave. Like a good girl."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "You're wearing this to the air show?"

"Yes," you whispered. "I got Noah a yellow shirt to match me."

Bradley wasn't sure exactly why, but that information sent his brain into a whirlwind. Matching outfits. Mommy and son stuff. "Princess," he moaned. 

"We'll look cute next to you in your sexy flight suit."

"You will look hot as hell both days," he confirmed, helping you pull the sundress off again. "Now, I think I owe you a manicure and a pedicure?" he asked, making you gasp and smile.

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

You quickly changed into one of Bradley's oversized shirts and met him in the kitchen with all your nail supplies. "Are you really going to do this?" you asked him, and he just nodded and smirked like he had a little secret. "Wait... are you secretly really good at painting nails?"

He shrugged and patted his knee, naked except for his black briefs. "I have no idea. Never tried it before."

It somehow made you feel giggly that he was going to sweetly attempt to do your nails for you even though he didn't know how. You settled down on his lap and set out some bottles of polish. "Which color?" you asked him. 

He had his lips on your neck as he murmured, "Do you really need to ask? Purple, Baby."

You moaned his name as you pushed the other colors aside, and then Bradley's hand was up underneath the shirt, teasing your skin and checking to see if you were wearing underwear. You leaned back against his chest and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You feel like fooling around first?"

His thumb stroked softly along the length of your slit. "Kind of," he said, his voice deep and raspy. "You ever warmed a cock before?"

The pad of his thumb felt a little rough, sending goosebumps all along your skin and making your lips part in need. "No," you whispered, always a little sheepish to admit your lack of experience when it came to things that he liked. "But I've heard of it."

He hummed softly and kissed your ear as he continued to stroke you. "You want me to tell you a little more about it? And maybe then you can tell me if you think it's something you'd enjoy?" When you nodded, he kissed your neck and said, "You would take my cock inside you. We would make each other feel warm and safe, and I could paint your nails while we sit here. No thrusting or anything." He dragged his lips and mustache back up to your ear. "You could warm me with your mouth, pussy or ass." You moaned softly, already clenching as he stroked his thumb up and back down your slit. "But since you didn't give yourself some time with your plug first, we could try it with your pussy. If you want to."

Even the idea of it sounded hot and intimate, and you were surprised and delighted that he wanted to try this with you. All of it. The cock warming and the nail painting and just everything. You turned slightly in his lap and took his face in your hands. His skin was warm and rough beneath your hands where his stubble was growing back from when he shaved earlier this morning. His brown eyes were fixed on yours. "I want to," you whispered as you kissed him. 

He smiled softly as you let your hands trail down his body to the waistband of his briefs. When he lifted his hips, you yanked them down and marveled at the sight of his half hard cock resting on his thigh. "You do that to me," he rasped, visibly growing harder. "Just having you on my lap, and the way you let me touch you. Baby, that's all you."

You whimpered into his mouth as he kissed you, and when you turned so your back was to his chest, you said, "This is what you do to me, Daddy." Then you spread your thighs and draped your legs over his, and you took his hand in yours. You eased his thumb along your slit again, this time letting him feel how wet you were when you were spread open for him. 

He murmured, "I love you," into the crook or your neck while he cock bobbed up and tapped against your inner thigh. "You ready?"

"Yes," you sighed, and Bradley reached in front of you with his right hand and guided his cock through your wet folds and inside you. When you adjusted yourself and leaned forward a bit, the sensation of being so full made you gasp as you took him to the hilt.

"Feel okay?" he asked softly, pulsing gently inside you even though he wasn't thrusting. "If you don't like it, we'll stop."

You turned your head to look at him. "I like it. A lot. I feel so full. Do you like it?"

"Feels incredible," he whispered. "Like you're just holding me and gripping me with your sweet pussy." Heat rose in your face as the raspiness of his voice washed over you. Then he asked, "Want me to try to paint your nails?"

You sat there with Bradley's arms wrapped around you and your palms flat on the kitchen table while his cock was nestled inside you. Neither of you moved very much, and your voices were soft as he worked slowly. After he finished a nail, he treated your neck and cheek to a smattering of kisses, and his breathing was even next to your ear while he worked. 

"I can't even look at the color purple without thinking about you," he murmured, and you clenched around him. "God, Baby," he gasped. "Fuck."

You couldn't help that you loved being loved by him. "You feel really good inside me," you told him as he swiped polish onto your left ring finger. He seemed to be taking extra time with that one, kissing and nipping at your ear between each dip of the brush into the bottle.

"Baby, you hardly wear any jewelry," he mused.

You laughed softly as he finally moved to your pinky. When you adjusted yourself on his lap, he grunted. "I don't really have any jewelry."

"And if I got you some, would you wear it?"

"That's a ridiculous question. Of course I would. But you already get me what I need, and you paid off my school loans. You don't need to buy me anything else."

He finished with your pinky and screwed the lid on the nail polish bottle. "But I want to." When his hands came to rest on your thighs, he remarked, "Your nails turned out better than I expected."

"They look so good, Daddy," you said, holding your hands up. 

"How long does this shit take to dry?"

"Maybe ten minutes?"

He gently took both of your wrists in his hands and set your palms back on the table. "You want me to paint your toenails, too?"

"Please," you whispered as his hands returned to the tops of your thighs. He was humming as he cupped your pussy with his fingers while he dragged his other hand up to your breasts beneath the shirt you were wearing. 

Hands rough against your nipples, he asked, "Will you let me fuck you first? Paint your pussy really pretty too?"

"Oh my god, yes."

As soon as the words left your tongue, Bradley groaned loudly and thrusted upwards while he stroked your clit, and you practically screamed. "You have to be quiet, Princess," he warned, and you pressed your lips together. "God, you got me so fucking worked up, just sitting here with your little pussy wrapped around me."

He fucked up into of you again and again until you were actually holding onto the table to keep yourself upright on his lap. "Daddy," you whimpered as he went a little faster. Each movement had your clit bouncing against his sure fingers, and when he started spanking you softly with them, you nearly screamed again. 

"Oh. Oh, fuck," he grunted, panting next to your ear. His breath was warm, and his words were sinfully deep as he told you, "I'm gonna come." He moaned your name as he held you to his chest, fucking you with your legs spread wide on his lap. "It's so fucking good."

Bradley's hips rolled as he filled you with his cum, his broad chest rising and falling against your back. You were about to turn and kiss him when he hauled you to your feet as his softening cock slipped out of you. You squealed as he eased you down onto the floor on your back and pushed your legs open wide. 

"What are you doing?" you asked as he knelt and eased himself into position with his hands on the backs of your thighs. 

"You didn't come." He licked your pussy, making you gasp. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter if you came tonight or not, because you loved the cock warming, but his face was already buried in your messy pussy. You felt so wet as you propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. His mustache was covered in his own cum and your wetness as he looked up at you and said, "You didn't get enough of my attention this week. You deserve more. I always want you to have more. I'll make you come."

He sounded so sure of himself, and as soon as you nodded he went back to work. "Daddy!" you whined when his tongue swept up around both of your holes before swirling around your clit like he was unwilling to leave any of his cum behind. Just the thought of it had you clenching, and then he started to fuck you with his fingers while he sucked on your clit. The noises were beautifully obscene.

As he started to add a little pressure, you realized something big was building inside you. "Oh god!" you groaned, once again loud enough that you should be concerned about waking up Noah. Your hips rocked up to meet his mouth and fingers, and your legs started shaking. 

Bradley grunted as he licked a long stripe and then started to suck. When he released you, your hips bobbed to chase him for more. "So damn sensitive," he crooned, his face a glistening mess as he licked his mouth and looked up at you. "Squirt for me."

You don't know how he knew better than you did what you were about to do, but he licked you from your asshole all the way to your clit while you rocked against him. He pumped two fingers deep inside you, stroking you just right while he plucked at your clit, and you shook your head from side to side on the kitchen floor.

"Daddy." It came out as a gasp as you felt yourself gush. 

You squirted on his face. You could feel it dripping down your butt to the floor. You felt wet everywhere as Bradley continued to pump his fingers gently in and out. "Baby," he whined, licking all around your overworked pussy until you shook. Then he kissed along your inner thigh and said, "I always want to make you come. You're mine. Now don't move an inch. You've done enough."

He leaned over your body, and kissed your lips, letting you taste the mess both of you made all over his face. It was intoxicating, licking his own cum from his mustache where he also tasted like you. But perhaps the best part was the way he slipped his tongue into your mouth before he said, "I love you."

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

Bradley took his time, making sure they looked as good as he could get them. Every swipe of polish on one of your toenails was accompanied by a press of his lips to your foot or ankle. You were laying on the floor looking like a perfect fucked out mess. He could still see a drop of his cum ready to drip out of your pussy if you moved just right, and you'd squirted all over him and the floor. The whole room smelled like sex and nail polish with your underlying wildflower scent, and he wished he could bottle it up. 

You giggled when he pressed his lips and mustache to your ankle. "Tickles," you whispered, looking up at him in adoration. So he kissed your ankle again before finishing up with his painting project and blowing softly on your nails. Your eyes drifted closed as you told him, "You're such a dream, Bradley. You just painted my nails and made me squirt on the kitchen floor."

This was the life he wanted with you. He'd worship you and love you. Take care of anything you or Noah needed. Dote on his family. And if another baby came along, well, he was ready for that, too. After this weekend, he prayed you'd be sporting your engagement ring, because more than anything else, he was ready for that next step. 

He kissed the side of your big toe before setting your foot down on the messy floor. "Your nails look damn good."

"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered as you pushed yourself up and crawled toward him. He picked you up and carried you directly to the bathroom where he got the shower ready for you and pulled his shirt over your head.

"I'll be right back. As soon as I clean up the floor." He kissed your smiling lips before dashing back into the kitchen. He took a deep breath and groaned. "Incredible," he whispered, wiping up the floor and cleaning up your nail supplies. Then he joined you in the shower.

"Will you sing to me?" you asked a little groggily when he wrapped you up in his arms. He sang his favorite song while he looked at your purple nails and thought about getting that ring on your finger. As soon as you were in bed for the night, he made sure Noah was asleep, and then he took Skittles outside. Before he climbed in bed, he checked the top of the closet for the ring box. Everything was ready to go. When he pulled the covers up, you scooted closer to him in your sleep. 

"I love you, Baby."

Friday morning, he needed to be on base early, so he woke you up just before he left in his flight suit. When he pressed his lips to your forehead, you tried to pull him back into bed. "I can't," he whispered with a laugh. "But I'll be home and ready to leave for the hospital tour at five. And Amelia should be here by then, too."

"Okay," you croaked softly as you cracked one eye open. "I'll take care of Noah."

"I know you will," Bradley rasped, now desperately wishing he could climb back in bed with you and let you know how much he fucking appreciated you. "I'll leave the coffee maker on. I love you."

You waved from bed as he grabbed his wallet and keys and made his way to the front door. There was nobody out yet, and he got to base quickly only to find Nat and Javy practically groping each other by their cars. When she saw his Bronco pulling in, Nat jumped away from Javy like he was actually made out of fire and started to head for the building. 

"Could have told you to stay away from that one, man," Bradley said as he closed his door behind him.

"I asked her out," Javy replied sadly. "Four times."

Bradley clapped him on the shoulder. "Either throw in the towel now, or get ready for the longest marathon of your life." 

He started walking away when Javy called out, "So you think if I stick with it, she'll admit she's in love with me?"

Bradley shrugged. "The only thing I know for sure is that she's a pain in the ass."

Bradley dropped his stuff off in the locker room and headed out onto the tarmac where Cyclone and Mav were waiting for him. He saluted both of his superiors and then collected the paperwork Admiral Simpson handed to him. "This is your itinerary for tomorrow morning. Be here by 0500 to fly your aircraft up to Miramar to meet with everyone else you'll be flying with. Some are from Lemoore. Some are from out of state. Make Top Gun look good."

Then he left Bradley alone with Mav to go over the schedule and practice the maneuvers. "Listen," Bradley said as they walked toward his jet. "The earlier I can get out of here today, the better."

"Amelia's babysitting tonight, right?" Maverick asked. "You're doing the charity hospital tour?"

"Yeah, and I'll need to get some actual sleep tonight if I'm waking up at four in the morning tomorrow," Bradley replied. "It's not just about the air show at this point." When Mav gave him a confused look, Bradley sighed and added, "I'm hoping to go from boyfriend to fiancé this weekend." Maverick broke out into a toothy grin. "And don't you dare tell Penny!"

He held his hands up innocently before pulling Bradley in for a tight hug. "It'll be our little secret. But your mom and dad would have loved to see how good you are with Noah, and that you chose a partner with him in mind. And I'm proud of you, too."

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

"But I'm hungry," Noah whined as soon as you got him home. Casey pissed you off by taking so long to retrieve Noah, and now you were running late. The plan was for Amelia to order a pizza since you and Bradley would be enjoying food at the cocktail reception, but you still needed to get ready to go. Thankfully you usually always had a snack prepared.

"How about some ants on logs?" you asked him as you kicked off your shoes and opened the back door for Skittles. Before Noah could answer, you opened the refrigerator and pulled out the container of carrots and peanut butter. He settled in a chair at the table and started crunching through a carrot stick. You started to feel flushed and warm when you thought about last night's activities that took place exactly where you were standing now. 

Skittles broke you free from your thoughts as she pawed at the door to come inside. You scooped some dinner into her bowl and then ran to the bedroom as you said, "I'll be right back, Noah." 

Black dress, black heels, black thong. You smiled for the millionth time when you looked at your purple nails. You just needed to get your beaded clutch down from the top of the closet. As you stood on tiptoes, you brushed your hand along the shelf. Your fingers connected with Bradley's gym bag, and you pushed it out of the way. Then you felt the corners of a small, square box instead of your bag, and you wrapped your fingers around it just when you heard knocking at the front door.

You gave up on your quest and ran to let Amelia inside. "Hey," she said casually as you opened the door.

"Can you order a pizza and feed Noah?" you asked her as you handed her your purple credit card. "I really need to get ready."

"Sure," she replied heading for the kitchen where she greeted Noah with a pat on his head. You could hear her asking what kind of pizza he wanted while she got his coloring books out. 

When you made it back to the closet, this time you got your hand on your beaded bag right away. "Perfect," you muttered. You took the world's fastest shower and got your hair and makeup perfected. When you heard Bradley walk inside, you were slipping your thong up your legs and then shimmying into your dress. When you looked in the mirror, you turned to inspect yourself. Everything looked pretty damn good. 

"Hey, Princess," Bradley said when he let himself in the bedroom. "Wow."

The look he was giving you was so funny when he himself was standing there in a clean flight suit looking like a million bucks. "You look hot, Daddy," you said as you picked up your high heels and rushed toward him. "We need to go, or we'll be late."

He kissed you and wrapped his hands around your hips. "We could just stay home? I think we should stay home."

You pouted up at him playfully. "But I wanted to tour the hospital. Jake promised me he'd take me if he was flying in the air show. Remember?"

Bradley stroked your jaw with his thumb, a playful smile on his lips. "Don't be a brat."

You moaned as he took your shoes from your hand and knelt in front of you. "I'll behave," you promised, your breath catching a bit at the sight of him on one knee as he helped you step into your shoes. You let your fingers play with his wavy hair as he kissed your thighs just below the bottom of your dress, and when he stood, he scooped you up in his arms. 

"As excited as you are about tonight, that's how excited I am for tomorrow," he whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"I'm excited for everything," you promised as he carried you out to say goodnight to Noah.

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

Daddy has some big plans for the weekend. And if she touches that box one more time, he might have a heart attack. But what I wouldn't give to have him paint my nails. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 50

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[ruinofchimera]

Regulus Black.

The boy who cracked Voldemort’s secret, turned against the Dark Lord, and gave his life to strike a decisive blow for the greater good. Sounds impressive, right?

But don’t let the fanon fever dream—or the Chalamet cheekbones—fool you.

1. The Fanboy Who Bought His Own Propaganda

How did Regulus get into this mess in the first place? He wasn’t dragged kicking and screaming into Voldemort’s inner circle. He wanted it. This was the boy who looked at Voldemort’s genocidal cult and thought, “Yes, this is my moment.” Voldemort wasn’t just a leader to Regulus—he was an idol, a pure-blood messiah, promising everything Regulus had been raised to worship.

His parents weren’t even Death Eaters themselves. Walburga and Orion preferred to clink their glasses from the sidelines, content to watch the chaos from their pure-blood balcony seats.

But Regulus? He wanted center stage. For him, the Death Eaters weren’t a prison—they were a playground. He signed up for the dark glamour, the exclusivity, and the chance to be on the frontlines of Voldemort’s “vision.” Regulus wasn’t coerced or manipulated—he was all in, fully convinced he was playing for the winning team.

Until, of course, Voldemort stopped being the star of Regulus’s dark power fantasy. And when reality set in, Regulus had a change of heart. But did he admit, “I was wrong”? Did he stand up and fight for the people he’d helped oppress? No. He folded.

2. The Master Plan That Wasn’t

Regulus was practically spoon-fed the truth about the Horcruxes. Voldemort’s most guarded secret was gift-wrapped and dumped at his feet, courtesy of a tortured house-elf.

And this wasn’t just any secret. This was the kind of revelation that could’ve turned the entire war around. But instead of responding with precision, foresight, or even basic competence, Regulus managed to botch it at every possible step.

Step 1: He stole the locket.

Stealing the locket sounds like a bold move, right? On paper, it’s the kind of Gryffindor-level defiance fandom loves to romanticize. But in reality, it was a tactical nightmare.

Regulus didn’t just take the locket from a location Voldemort’s obnoxious ego would’ve eventually exposed. No, he took it and hid it in Grimmauld Place.

Instead of leaving it in the cave, where someone might’ve uncovered it, Regulus thought, “You know what? Let me stash this in my creepy ancestral house, where only my guilt-ridden, traumatized house-elf knows it exists.” Revolutionary thinking, truly. Because when dismantling a Dark Lord’s immortality, the best plan is obviously to make the Horcrux even more inaccessible, right?

The only reason the locket ever surfaced was because Harry inherited Grimmauld Place. If not for that stroke of luck, the locket would’ve sat there, untouched and invincible, for decades. Maybe centuries.

Or worse—as we saw happen in canon—it could’ve been stolen, passed from hand to hand like a cursed trinket, and lost forever. Voldemort would’ve cackled his way to world domination while the wizarding community fought a battle they couldn’t ever win.

Step 2: He didn’t destroy it.

Destroying a Horcrux isn’t easy—I’ll give Regulus that. But did he even try? Or did he just hand the locket to Kreacher with the world’s vaguest instructions, essentially saying, “Figure it out, sweetie,” before marching off to die dramatically?

Kreacher, bless his loyal, trauma-ridden heart, spent decades torturing himself trying to destroy an indestructible object with no tools, no guidance, and no real chance of success. He tried everything he could think of, punishing himself endlessly for failing a task that was never within his power to complete.

Regulus doomed him. Instead of empowering Kreacher to carry out his wishes, Regulus turned his act of “redemption” into a lifelong burden for someone who had no choice but to carry it.

Step 3: He told no one.

Now here’s where Regulus truly shines in sabotage disguised as sacrifice. Whether it was arrogance, misplaced pride, or a refusal to meaningfully contribute to Voldemort’s downfall, he ensured that the secret he uncovered—the one that could have turned the war on its head—was buried right alongside him.

Perhaps the poor boy couldn’t stomach the idea of contacting Dumbledore or joining the resistance. Maybe the thought of lowering himself to grovel before the Order, confessing his sins, and actually helping was too much for his delicate pure-blood ego.

But what, then, compelled him to entomb such precious knowledge alongside his corpse? Would it have killed him—again—to ensure Kreacher delivered the locket and its significance to someone who could actually do something about it?

Instead, Regulus left behind nothing but a moody breakup note to Voldemort that helped absolutely no one.

“I hope you will be mortal once more.” Oh yes, that glorified Dear John letter. Maybe he thought his scathing parting words would haunt Voldemort forever. Perhaps Tom was meant to reread it late at night, questioning his life choices.

3. What Could Have Been

Regulus had options. So many options. The fact that he chose the least effective course of action is almost impressive in its sheer incompetence.

He could’ve swallowed his pride and gone to Dumbledore. Say what you will about the man, but Dumbledore was Voldemort’s greatest fear for a reason. Armed with Regulus’s intel, Dumbledore could’ve started breaking apart the Horcrux network years earlier, crippling Voldemort before Harry was even born.

He could’ve warned the Order. Regulus could’ve shared this revelation with his brother. He could’ve even scrawled a quick, anonymous note: “Voldemort made Horcruxes. Here’s one.” That alone could’ve shifted the entire war.

He could’ve destroyed the locket himself. With access to cursed objects, forbidden magic, and centuries of pure-blood knowledge, Regulus had the resources to figure it out.

If Regulus had simply done nothing—if he had left the Horcrux untouched in Voldemort’s lair, waiting for someone more competent to find it—it still would’ve been a better choice than what he did. At least then, it wouldn’t have been stashed in a location even less traceable than Voldemort’s own cursed lake.

4. The Fallout of Failure

Regulus didn’t just fail—he left behind a colossal mess for others to clean up.

Kreacher suffered for decades. The loyal house-elf blamed himself for a failure that was never his fault. Regulus didn’t just abandon the locket—he abandoned Kreacher to a lifetime of guilt and self-inflicted punishment.

The Order fought blind. Deprived of any knowledge about Voldemort’s Horcruxes, the Order spent years floundering in the dark, waging desperate battles against Death Eaters while the true key to victory—Voldemort’s immortality—remained untouched.

The Trio cleaned up his mess. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent months hunting down a Horcrux that could’ve been destroyed decades earlier. Their entire mission to find and destroy Voldemort’s Horcruxes was prolonged and made infinitely harder.

5. Fandom’s Saint of Aesthetic Suffering

In the end, Regulus was just a boy who stumbled onto a world-shattering discovery, fumbled it completely, and left behind a legacy so utterly useless that it took sheer dumb luck to untangle long after his dramatic exit. Regulus’s actions didn’t just delay Voldemort’s defeat—they actively sabotaged the resistance.

But none of this matters. Fandom doesn’t love Regulus for his actions—it loves him for his aesthetic.

A brooding boy with tragic eyes, a flair for melodrama, and three vague lines of backstory ripe for fans to twist into epic sagas of angst and redemption—and to demand the rest of us bow down in worship of their self-styled martyr.

[heartfullofleeches]

Going to do a small ramble since janitors been getting some misgendering.

Imagine if for a second, janitor just corrected people on their pronouns. Like, sure their in a chaotic fast food place but the least a customer can do is accept the pronouns the fucking cleaner of the establishment uses. Maybe after a long hard day of work, FF! Reader just gives sulli a hug. They deserve it even in this murder happy and very questionably run fast food joint. Maybe they even just chill after hours in the building to just hang out. Idk personally think there's not enough fluff for them. (Side thing : what if janitor just had a they/them pin? I've seen more recently at least in my area service workers have rainbow or fandom pins and I think it'd fit them.) -🍭anon (sorry I haven't spoken in awhile, been very busy with life)

[I'll do you one better- FF Reader being the one to correct the customer. TW: Mention of misgendering]

"Um, excuse me, Sir? There's still no paper towels in the bathroom."

Why do they even bother? They've expressed their grievances to this customer multiple times - both in fact of them being busy with other work, and that the customer had mistaken them for something they weren't. They've tried to let it slide. They've tried to gently inform the customer of their preferred pronouns. No dice. Their head was pounding from the fumes of the chemical they worked with, and this was doing nothing to help it. Why did they come into work today.

"Listen, I'll get to it once I'm done mopping. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a-"

Soft squeaks resonate from the freshly cleaning floor as heavy steps race across it. A hand nabs the bottle of cleanser out of the janitor's hands - aiming the nozzle directly in line with the customer's eyes as its finger clamps down on the trigger.

The customer screeches - throwing their hands over their face to shield themselves as their eyes sting and vision blurs.

"Begone." Steadying your aim, you blast the customer with another face full of the unholy solution filing the bottle in your hands. Had to be some powerful stuff to get out the stains you see on the daily. Despite their arms blocking majority of their face, you manage to get a spray of the mixture in their mouth. They retch - tears and saliva dripping down their face as they spit.

"Agh! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"The fuck's wrong with you? I've been watching you all morning. There's a line between a mistake and being an ignorant asshole, and you've crossed it buddy. Go on, get - shoo, get the fuck outta here."

"I hope you know you've just lost a paying customer!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Go ruin someone's else's day."

The Janitor watches as you chase the customer out of the establishment, hurling obscenities and hitting them with another jet of cleanser whenever they turn to look back. You toss the now empty bottle at the hood of their car as they crawl in and speed away. Their heart pumps so loudly they can barely hear your steps as you return to their side.

"Sorry about using all your cleanser. Wanna go pretend to look for more in storage room and sneak out the back?"

The Janitor deadpans. "I used to think I was in love you.... It's gone far beyond just a thought now."

"I know." You throw your arm around their shoulder - allowing them to dump their weight on you as they go weak in the knees from the contact. You half carry them out the back door, sneaking off to where their van was parked outside. You hold your hand out for their keys which they readily give you. You help them into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver's side and hopping in. The Janitor's hand reaches over the divider, stopping just short of your arm.

"You good?"

Their head falls to your shoulder - voice strained as they rub at where their eyes would be. "Yea....Yea, I'm good. Thanks by the way."

You place your hand over theirs, squeezing it gently. "Eh, you and I are the one's keeping the hellhole in shape.. You deserve more respect than you get sometimes... Ready to ditch this place for the night?"

"....Please?..."

[watarfallar]

Last desert duo incorrect quotes dump of the year! (Unless I post another later)

Grian, standing amidst the destroyed kitchen: How? How were you able to summon me?! Scar, flipping through a cookbook as fast as they can: I don’t know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!

Grian: Why are you burning our marriage certificate!? Scar: Good luck trying to return me without a receipt.

Grian: Why cant trees give off something important like wifi?? Scar: So fuck oxygen, I guess.

Scar: School appropriate questions. Grian: What was the lowest point in your life?

Grian: I think I need a hug… Scar: Good thing I'm hug shaped! 45 minutes later Grian: You… you can let go now. Scar: No, I absolutely cannot.

Scar, skipping rocks on a lake with Grian: It’s such a beautiful evening. Grian: Yeah, it is. Grian: whispering Take that you fucking lake.

Scar, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Grian: But how- Scar, ignoring them: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

Grian: I've connected the two dots. Scar: You didn't connect shit. Grian: I've connected them.

Scar: Start talking! Grian: Well, I- Scar: Shut up!

Scar: My friends say I'm the most charismatic out of the group. Grian: Well, you always have a smile on your face. Scar: Thank you. Grian: Grian: What drugs do you take?

Grian, dashing into the room: WHY AREN’T THE DISHES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER?! Scar: …What does that even mean?!

Grian: I’m gonna kill you. Scar: Get in line!

Grian: Are you listening to me? Scar: nods Grian: What did I just say? Scar: nods Grian: …

Scar: Grian, what is the ONE thing I asked you NOT to do tonight? Grian: Raise the dead. Scar: And what did you do? Grian: Raise the dead.

Scar: Oh, fiddlesticks. Grian: Look, I understand this is a tense situation, but let's watch the fucking language.

Grian: Do you know a turtles only weakness? Scar: No… well, their slowness. Grian: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Grian: Now I have a plan. Grian: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable.

Scar: And if you have any suggestions, please put them in the suggestion box. Grian: That’s a trash can.

Scar: Hey, Grian! Did you know your my BFFLWYLION? Grian: What the hell is that supposed to mean? Scar: Best Friend For Life Whether You Like It Or Not. Grian: Grian: That’s one way to say it, I guess…

Grian: Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we barely know each other? Scar: Idiots to lovers, 20k words, angst with a happy ending.

Scar: Guess what I'm about to get! Grian: On my nerves.

Scar: Grian! I thought you were dead! Grian: No, just in deep cover. Scar: …But it was an open casket. Grian: It was very deep.

Scar: Its hard to resist, I'm really sorry- I mean, considering your approach so far, you had us tied here for- what? Hours? And you haven’t even had us confirm what exactly we are! Grian: What are you then? Scar: I'm a Virgo!

Scar: I need some help with my homework, Grian. Grian: What’s the assignment? Scar: I’m supposed to write a paper that presents both sides of an issue and then defends one of the arguments. Grian: What’s your issue? Scar: That’s the problem. I can’t think of anything to argue. Grian: That’s hard to believe. Scar: I’m always right and everybody else is always wrong! What’s to argue about?!

[bishopsbeloved]

bad idea!

kate bishop x fem reader

No matter how much of a bad idea it may seem to go back to Kate Bishop, you can’t help it. You’re like a moth to a flame

inspired by a girl in red song, mentions of sex but no actual smut, fwb/ex gf kate, dumb lesbians, kind of just a drabble icl, 1.1k words

NOTE: my requests are open!!!!! send me anything you’d like!!!!!! i can’t guarantee i’ll get it done but you’re welcome to send things in🫶

It was such a bad idea to get involved with Kate Bishop again.

It’s so stupid that this even happened. Every fucking time things end between you you’re resolute in your position, you’re determined that this will truly be the end, but Kate Bishop has this way of drawing people back in. You’ve fallen victim to her strange unspeakable allure more times than you can count. That’s how you ended up here in the first place.

Yes, okay, fine, she’s good at sex. When she sends a you up? text you can’t help the way your heart beats a little faster at the thought of the chase resuming between the two of you, of cat and mouse returning to flirtatious antics with one inevitable end. No matter how many times you try to escape it, you and Kate Bishop always seem to find your way back to one another, only to sourly part again and leave you even more lost than you were before. You don’t know what to do. You can’t fucking stand her. You can’t get away from her. You’re not sure you want to.

Nobody else has ever touched you in the way she does, or as well as she can. No matter how much you pretend otherwise she is the one you crave; she’s the one on your mind whilst the hands of others roam your body. You have this deep, innate, carnal need for her — for everything about her — not just her fingers and her tongue and her strap but also her whiny raspy voice first thing in the morning (she, annoyingly adorably, hates mornings) and the sloppy neck kisses she delivers to say goodnight and the kind of sheepish shifty look whenever she brings you a token of her love. The latter doesn’t happen much anymore, not since the two of you broke up — since she dumped you — which on paper ought to mean the two of you no longer see each other. And yet more nights than not one of you has crawled back to and somehow ended up in the other’s bed. It seems you’re both full of bad ideas, and yet neither of you can get enough.

When you wake up in her room again, the purple wallpaper adorned with medals and trophies and Hawkeye posters all too familiar by this point, that feeling of heaviness settles in your stomach. For fuck’s sake. You’re always disappointed in yourself, the morning after. There’s a reason the two of you aren’t together anymore — so why do you keep waking up in each other’s beds?

You look down at where Kate Bishop is nestled against your chest, still bare-skinned against you after last night’s activities. It’s irritating how beautiful she is even when she’s asleep. She looks so lovely in your arms you can almost imagine that being your reality again, until you harshly remind yourself Kate doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want you like that, she broke up with you and the only reason she sees you anymore is for sex. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes your stomach turn, and suddenly you want nothing more than to be away from her.

Crawling out of Kate’s bed when she’s wrapped herself around you like this is never easy. Perhaps in unconsciousness, in her most vulnerable state, she’s more reluctant to let you go. Sometimes you feel a little guilty leaving before she wakes so often, but you have to, for your own good — for the good of both of you. When you’re not fucking you don’t really know what to say to her. Hey, you were the love of my life, why’d you dump my ass? No thanks. She has these big blue puppy-dog eyes that just make you feel horrible about the whole thing, and everything you’ve ever done, ever. No, you’re better off leaving now.

“You’re leaving,” says a small, scratchy voice from behind you, as you stumble about in the half-dark of the room locating your clothing. It’s a statement, not a question, but she still doesn’t sound entirely certain.

You don’t really know how to respond, you’re kind of wishing this wasn’t happening and rushing to find your other sock so you can get out of here, so you just let out a kind of low grunt of acknowledgement.

“You always leave,” Kate responds, and you don’t have to turn around to know that she’s pouting a little. You can hear it in her voice. The fact you can tell, that you know her well enough to tell only pisses you off even further, and you let out a kind of bitter laugh.

“It’s not like you fucking want me here.”

“That’s not true.” She pauses, and you hear the little noises she makes as she sits up and stretches. “I do want you here. I keep bringing you back, don’t I?”

“Yeah, cause a good fuck is all I’m worth to you,” you say angrily, before closing your eyes and tilting your head back. No. You can’t let her ass ruin your day when you have so much shit to do.

“No, that’s not true,” she tries, whilst at the same time you groan “I can’t do this, Kate.”

She sits up a little straighter, eyes wide, voice an octave higher. “W— what? Can’t do what?”

“I can’t do you.”

“But I— you keep— you keep coming back, though.”

This hits a nerve, and you laugh incredulously, finally turning around to face her. She’s looking up at you in the semi-darkness of the room, her face unreadable. “Yeah, and I shouldn’t. It’s fucking pathetic. I can’t get over my ex so I’ll sleep with her whenever she asks. It’s not— it’s— Kate, I can’t keep doing this.” You bury your head in your hands.

Vaguely, you hear the gentle rustle of fabric in Kate’s side of the room. You just need a moment to collect yourself and you’ll get the fuck out of here.

You hear her footsteps padding towards you, and you open your eyes again. She’s haphazardly tugged on a shirt and is stood before you, bare-legged, almost doleful in expression. “I’m sorry,” she says, barely a whisper. “This is all— I keep fucking up. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say tiredly.

“I— I don’t know. Everything. You.” She steps towards you uncertainly.

“Kate,” you say, and you’re not sure who moved first, but within moments her lips are on yours again. When she tugs you back towards the bed, you let her, your stomach churning with the indescribable sensation of simultaneous adoration and angst that her touch fills you with. She’s so pretty it actually physically hurts.

God, you’re totally fucked.

[alienguts]

Plasma (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Ash comes home covered in blood, Y/N needs to get him cleaned up before he ruins the carpet.

Warnings: Blood (obviously), washing/bathing, fluff

Request?: No

A/N: I've still got the rest of a series to go through and a lot of smut to write, but I felt the need to write this down as soon as the idea popped into my head.

She’d never thought it could be possible, but Y/N could smell Ash before he even walked through the door. The unmistakable stench of iron and rotten flesh forced itself up her nose and made her stomach churn, threatening to bring up her lunch even though it had been hours since she’d eaten. As soon as she heard the lock click, she covered her face with her hand and braced herself for the mess that was about to enter the apartment.

“Honey, I’m ho-ome,” Ash called into the room, giving his best Desi Arnaz as he closed the door behind him and unknowingly smeared blood onto the handle.

He was about to take a step off the front door mat when he noticed Y/N sitting on the sofa with her mouth covered and her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” he asked. “It can’t be that bad.”

“You smell like a dead body, Ash,” Y/N said, her voice muffled by her hand. She briefly took it away and tried to breathe in but immediately gagged, her stomach lurching. “You’re not stepping a foot into this apartment until you’re out of those clothes.”

“Are you asking me to strip for you?” Ash said, a sultry tone entering his voice. “Because you don’t need to ask me to do that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and stood up from her seat, her hand still over her mouth.

“Don’t get any ideas, I just don’t want you tracking blood on the floor. The landlord will have my ass if it stains.”

Ash gave her a wary look and slowly started to kick his shoes off, watching for what she would do once he started to undress properly.

“Can’t I just get the rest off in the bathroom? It’s my shoes that are the dirtiest,” he said, just as a drop of blood fell from the cuff of his pants and onto the floor.

“Nope, you’re gonna stay on that mat.”

Ash groaned and lifted his feet, unaware of the bloody footprints he left behind. “C’mon, babe! Really, it’s not that bad.” Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “At least give me a hamper to put them in.”

“Okay, fine, just wait there,” she said and went into the bedroom to get the plastic bucket she used for especially dirty clothes.

As he bent over to take his soaked socks off, Ash noticed the bloody door handle he’d left behind him and shuffled away from the door before he left any more stains behind.

When he’d gone out earlier that night, he didn’t think that he’d come home soaked from head to toe in Deadite blood. He always expected fighting monsters to be a messy ordeal, but once blood and goo got on him he just had to bite his tongue and keep going. Especially when he got brains in his mouth.

He’d felt so strong on the drive home, so manly, and yet here he was standing on a cork doormat the size of a placemat being made to take all his clothes off. His fingers slipped on each button as he tried to undo them and wiping his hands on his clothes didn’t help at all. He was close to just ripping the stupid thing apart when Y/N returned with the hamper for him to dump his soiled clothes into.

“Here, let me help,” she said when she saw him struggling. She cringed as she touched the cold fabric but managed to release each of the buttons with more ease than he could and tugged the bottom of the shirt out of his waistband as he shrugged the sleeves off his shoulders and pulled his arms out.

Once the shirt was off and in the hamper, she moved into the kitchen to grab a roll of paper towels and ripped off a couple of pieces for him to wipe his hands on. And then some more when they soaked right through.

“I can get my pants by myself, honey,” Ash said when she reached for his belt, unbuckling it with ease and making quick work of the button and zipper before pushing his pants to the floor and dropping them in the hamper. “Want my underwear too?”

“Please,” Y/N said as she picked it up and held it out to him. She watched him drag his boxers down his hips and legs before making a show of dropping them into the hamper. “Thank you!”

“Now can I please get away from the door?”

Y/N looked him over, her eyes leisurely trailing from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. Even though he was covered in blood and dirty and stunk to high heaven, she could have looked at his naked body for the rest of the night. Once she started to feel her eyes water and her nose burn she snapped out of her trance.

“Okay, go take a shower,” she said finally. “I’ll deal with these clothes.”

Ash sighed as he padded off to the bathroom, thankfully not leaving any bloody footprints as he went. Y/N placed the hamper in the kitchen sink and twisted the faucet until the water ran cold. She filled the basket until the clothes were completely submerged and swirled them around so that the blood could soak out of them properly.

Meanwhile, Ash shut the bathroom door behind him and reached into the tub to turn the water on as hot as he could get it. As he waited for the room to steam up, he unscrewed his metal hand from his wrist, removed it, and placed it in the sink to be cleaned later. He breathed in the steam and let it out slowly, rolling his tired shoulders and stretching his neck from side to side.

As frustrated as he was about how the night had gone, he couldn’t help but be grateful that Y/N took his clothes for him and washed them while he cleaned himself up. If he was still on his own he would have been stuck with bloodstained clothes, ruined shoes, and a shower that had pitiful water pressure. He kept that thought in his mind as he stepped up into the tub and stood under the shower head. The water was scalding hot and he knew he would be bright pink once he got out, but he’d worry about that later. He just needed to get clean and relaxed.

Once he couldn’t take the temperature anymore, Ash turned the heat down until the water was just comfortable to stand under and let it wash the blood and dirt from his skin. A cut on his left bicep that he’d ignored until then throbbed as it was cleaned and he winced when he moved the arm to pick up his washcloth from the shower caddy and draped it over his right wrist.

Just as he’d started to lather up the washcloth with soap, he heard the shower curtain move aside.

“Need some help?” Y/N asked, standing completely nude at the side of the tub.

“Please,” Ash sighed as he helped her in. 

She took the cloth from him and used it to wipe the blood away from his face, starting at the centre of his face and moving out with gentle strokes. He relaxed into her hands as she wiped him clean, being careful to not get the soap in his eyes before letting him turn into the shower spray to wash it away.

Once his face and neck were clean, she moved down to his shoulders, lightly squeezing and massaging any knots she could find in his muscles. When she moved down to his arms she noticed the cut and took care to be as gentle as she could with it.

“Sorry, honey,” she said when he winced and tensed his muscles. “Did one of them.. Y’know?”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine.”

“I still want to bandage it up,” she said before softly kissing just above the cut.

They must have spent half an hour in the bathroom together, Y/N helping Ash to wash his hair and parts of his back that he couldn’t reach, and Ash returning the favour even when she said she didn’t need any help. By the time the water started to run cold and the bottom of the tub had turned from red to white, they were both squeaky clean and ready to get out.

“Ugh, I needed that after the night I’ve had,” Ash groaned when they were both dry and wearing pyjamas. “And the day I’ve had.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Retail is an absolute hellscape, sweetheart,” he said as he ran his hand through his wet hair. “Just be glad that you don’t work in it.”

“My work gets tough too, but you’ve gotta be tough for your job,” Y/N said as they made their way back to the living room together. “Both of them.”

Ash threw himself onto the sofa and almost melted into it with a deep sigh. “All I want right now is to eat dinner and get baked.”

“I had a feeling you would say that earlier today, so I ordered in.”

“You ordered dinner?” Ash asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“Not just dinner,” Y/N said as she grabbed her purse from next to the sofa and pulled out a tiny Ziploc bag that was full of tiny green leaves.

“Now this is why I love you,” he said with a huge grin as he stood up to take her in his arms. “You get me food, weed, and you take care of me. What else could a guy need?”

“That’s all fine and well, but you remember the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do the same for you when you have a bad day,” he said as he took the bag, already racing to get his rolling papers and a lighter, ready to spend the rest of the night in a dope-induced haze.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s Autumn in New York

Pairing: modern!Azriel x Eris | WC: 1.5k | warnings: none

Summary: my favorite playlist ‘listening to jazz while cooking with your lover in a nyc apartment’ but make it soup and Azris and big sweaters ❣️

Note: I couldn’t let @erisweekofficial go by without some Azris!!!

“It’s looking at me.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at Eris’s greeting before putting a scrap of paper in his book, standing and meeting Eris at the door. He lightly kissed his boyfriend’s cheek as he grabbed some of the bags from Eris’s hands. The pair carried them further into his tiny kitchen, placing bags on the limited counter space.

“She has a name.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it suits her. I think Devil Spawn is more appropriate.”

At that moment, the cat jumped up on the counter, her tail moving from side to side as her big green eyes watched Eris. He sneered in response at the black cat’s presence.

“I just know she wants to sink her claws into my sweater. It’s hand knit, prick.”

Azriel lightly elbowed him from behind, his boyfriend’s antagonism to his cat both annoying and slightly entertaining. “She’s a cat. I don’t think she understands what hand knit, expensive wool means.”

Eris and his godsdamned sweater, Azriel thought. He took a deep breath as he pulled ingredients from the bags, trying to let his annoyance settle as he inspected the squash Eris picked up before he began peeling the onion and dicing it.

It had only been two months since Eris told his father he was dating a man and was very quickly disowned. In the span of twelve hours, Beron had seized all of Eris’s assets, from his bank accounts to his apartment, and fired him and had him banned from Vanserra Enterprises’s grounds.

He had showed up to Azriel’s apartment in nothing but the sweater and trousers he wore now.

Azriel and Eris had been dating on and off for a year and a half by this point, Eris finally deciding to tell his family, despite both men knowing how it would likely end.

Their relationship was never ‘off’ for very long - only a week or two here and there, when both their tempers got too much to handle. The stress of keeping their romance a secret frequently causing Eris to leave whenever things became too much or too real.

But they had been dating for a year straight when Eris began getting plagued with the need to tell his family. He knew the outcome - had even talked over every strategy with his younger brother, Lucien, to help figure out the softest way to tell them.

But Beron Vanserra was not a caring man.

Things had been looking up for Eris since then - it was a learning curve for him to have to live with someone in such small quarters, but the two made it work somehow. Azriel was a transplant to New York City, whereas Eris grew up here.

But shoebox apartments were never something Eris had been acquianted with - growing up in penthouse apartments in the upper east side meant he had grown accustomed to having an amount of space most New Yorkers would deem ‘excessive’.

But the pair made it work.

Eris had even been working on rekindling a relationship with Lucien - the two met up at least once a fortnight for coffee or pastries - short, small commitments for the two to work through the complexities of decades of emotional manipulation.

In a few days Eris was starting a job doing what he had initially wanted to do - running political campaigns. He recently got hired with a firm and he’ll begin helping Nesta Archeron try to take the seat of governor from their incumbent.

Eris had spent all week pouring over every piece of news he could get in the state to prepare himself - every data point, every poll. He had started quoting numbers in his sleep much to Azriel’s annoyance.

Azriel kicked him out of the apartment a few hours ago, telling him to go to the store and to get ingredients for butternut squash soup.

“Well, Azriel, perhaps it’s time you taught her about fine, luxury items.”

He dumped the diced onion into a hot pot as Eris began slicing the squash. “Yes, Er, I will spend the free time I have with you teaching my cat to better differentiate between polyester and cashmere.”

“You make me sound absurd.”

After a pause, Eris slowly smiled, looking at Azriel as he paused his cutting. “Why start there? The first lesson should be all textiles, not just cashmere and polyester.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, his hip checking Eris’s as he pulled the knife from the redhead’s hand and continued to cut the gourd into chunks.

“Perhaps I should quit my job and stay at home and homeschool her.”

His joke had been punctuated with a light meow as Midnight jumped from the counter, moving between Eris and Azriel’s sock clad feet, her body rubbing against Azriel’s calf as she purred.

“As if you could teach anyone manners.”

Azriel stopped his cutting, picking up the board as he dropped the chunks in the dutch oven. He hummed at Eris’s remark, trying to think of a witty reply before turning and grabbing Eris’s hand, pulling it to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

Eris let a sneer cover his face, but his body moving closer to Azriel betrayed how he really felt about the man before him. One of Azriel’s hands moved to the hem of Eris’s sweater, resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?”

“Is this not a proper greeting? I’m working on my manners.”

“I don’t think feeling someone up is a proper greeting.”

Azriel’s hand slid around, sliding into Eris’s back pocket. At Eris’s raised eyebrow, he responded, “If I’m going to be improper and feel you up, I’m going to do it properly.”

“The soup’s going to burn.”

Azriel turned his head, looking to the pot of vegetables that was heating. The vegetables hardly looked like they had warmed at all, and he imagined he could just stick his hand in it and come out only slightly warmer than his skin.

“I like to take risks.”

“Ah yes, professional risk taker. You spend your day in an office.”

“I walk on top of the grates when I walk through city. That is a risk. My earring could fall out and into the grate.”

Eris rolled his eyes, “everyone walks over the grates and if your earring fell out on the sidewalk,” he brought his finger to lightly play with the dangling knife from Azriel’s ear, “you would need several shots after putting it back in your ear.”

“I have isopropyl alcohol in the bathroom.”

“You have clearly not lived here long enough to understand that that is not strong enough to kill New York street bacteria.”

Azriel hummed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Eris took in his boyfriend, the deep blue sweater he had received for Christmas last year looking as stunning as Eris had expected it to when he bought it. He looked at Azriel’s profile, the dark bags beneath his eyes sending a pang through Eris.

The past few months had been draining for him, but Azriel had been picking up the brunt of the emotional load in this time, helping Eris work through what a life without his father would look like.

Just because it was the best thing to do didn’t make it any easier.

Eris pulled away first, untangling his limbs from Azriel to pull out the bread he had picked up, putting the gluten free loaf onto a cutting board as he cut chunky slices for the pair.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris, not letting him stray too far from his touch. Time slipped away as the two shared their body heat in the kitchen, not having anything to do until the timer for the vegetables wittled down.

When the timer finally went off, Azriel moved to turn the stove off while Eris moved to put the blender on the counter. The cat kept weaving between Eris’s legs, making moving through the kitchen nearly impossible. When he nearly tripped over her, he gave an exasperated sigh and scooped her into his arms.

“I hate you.”

She meowed loudly in his face before rotating her body to get comfortable and buried her face in Eris’s chest.

“It’s rumbling.”

“She’s purring, Eris. It’s a sign of affection. Lord knows you couldn’t identify that on your own.”

The redhead rolled his eyes as Azriel brought the pot of soup to the blender, using a spatula to get every last piece in before blending it into a soupy consistency, adding broth as he went to make it less viscous.

The sound of the blender made conversation impossible, until eventually Azriel grabbed two bowls, dumping the contents of the blender into each bowl. Eris followed Azriel to their table, dropping the cat onto the floor as Azriel placed the bowls on the table.

Eris knew things were going to still be difficult - he missed his mother, the jitters of starting a new job, of essentially starting over. But he looked at the soup, his favorite since childhood, before sitting down and taking a bite.

Things could be difficult tomorrow. Tonight would be easy. He would eat this soup and bask in the company of his boyfriend and his annoying cat.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Azris taglist: @chunkypossum @the-darkestminds @mistandmemories @molcat07

Thanks for reading❣️

[rosiestalez]

One Swipe With Love

Battinson x teacher!f!reader

wc: 990

Summary: You take a shopping trip with Bruce’s card to stock up on your favorite things. You see him struggling to remove his makeup one morning, and you help him take it off. He does the same thing after a long day of work.

Warnings: None, pure tooth rotting fluff

——————————————————————

Bruce could never take off his eyeliner properly. He would rub his eyes raw with soap and water, and for some reason it wouldn’t come off with as much ease as yours did. He would borrow your eyeliner from time to time, the water proof stuff, and he thought that was issue. Yet, when it was time for bed he’d still have remnants of his batman eyeliner smeared on his eyes.

When you came home one afternoon with a Sephora bag he was quite intrigued by your purchases with his credit card.

“Hey baby!”, you speak loudly from the entry way, “I wanna show you everything!”, you kick off your shoes and make your way into the living area where Bruce is sitting watching the news. He turns to you muting the tv. You kiss his forehead before taking a spot next to him on the couch.

It always seems like you two are polar opposite, through energy, clothes, color, interests, but you two still seem to find a way to love each other. Today he’s wearing a basic black on black sweat suit, but you however an elementary schoolteacher was wearing your favorite white tennis skirt and a hot pink tank top for your day off. Your makeup was beautiful, and you decided to do a touch of eyeshadow for your shopping trip.

“Show me what you got baby”, a slight smile tugs at his lips. You smile widely dumping out the contents from the bag, “wow that’s a lot!”, his eyebrows rising, “which card was this on?”

“The Black Amex one”, you pause, “I think”, your smile still wide. He just sighs.

“Baby, you’re so lucky i love you”, you giggle at his response handing him the card from your purse, “Alright now show me everything!”, his voice lined with sarcastic cheer.

You go through all the products, what they’re used for and why you need them. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he loves seeing your face light up when you explain everything to him.

“Oh! and this! this is my FAVORITE, makeup remover. it’s like a balm and it’s old based it’s awesome! it even removes my eye liner!”, holding up a bottle of Fenty Cleansing Balm.

Bruce’s eyes light up, you said it “removes eyeliner?”

“mhmm! even my waterproof stuff, it’s great”, you smile.

“Do you think I could maybe try it soon? like tonight?”, he asks softly.

“oh! Of course my love!” nodding your head, “I can even show you how to use it!”, and with that a genuine smile plasters all over his face.

Later that night Bruce plants a kiss on your lips before he leave for patrol leaving you and Alfred alone in the Manor. You’re nestled under the covers of your shared bed reading one of your favorite books with a cup of tea by your side. He’s never here to share these moments with you like your coworkers partners, who sit with them while they grade papers or make lesson plans. For you, that’s okay, because during the day Bruce is by your side with lavish gifts, support, and during the school year he drops by the school once a week for storytelling. Finishing your chapter, you roll over pulling the string to the lamp and you close your eyes to sleep.

—-

Your alarm blares, and you hear Bruce walking into the room, ‘5:30 am’. You get out of bed to begin your morning routine, while Bruce begins his night routine. You meet him in the bathroom, and see him trying to take his makeup off. “Good morning Brucey”, you hum.

“Morning, love”, his voice husky.

“D’you need some help?”, you smile sleepily. He nods, you open the cabinet under the sink pulling out your makeup remover you baught yesterday. “okay, so this is how it works”, you squeeze out a bit from the tube emulsifying it in your hand before rubbing gentle circles around his eyes removing the black makeup slowly. You direct him to wash his face under water before taking micellar water to wipe away the rest. “There you go baby, all clean. are you headed off to bed?”

“For a little bit, i have to go through some evidence about the Riddler character.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep for at least three hours”, your voice sweet.

“yeah”, he says plainly mustering up a facetious smile. You stand up on your tip-toes and plant a kiss on his forehead before scooting him out the bathroom to shower.

—-

You were exhausted, the kids were obnoxious, the school smelled awful from whatever they were cooking in the cafeteria, and during morning work a kid puked seconds away from the bathroom door. It was truly one of your worse days as an educator and that’s saying a lot. You walk through the front door greeting Alfred, and planting yourself in the den enjoying the silence that you’ve been craving all day. You exhale deeply soaking up all the couch’s plush warmth.

“Babe?”, a voice can be heard from the door way, “you okay?”, Bruce asks.

“i’m okay, just a long day”, you smile lazily.

“Rough day?”

“Something like that”, you sit up on the couch and Bruce takes a seat beside you. He brings you into a cuddle hug, running his fingers through your hair. You move further into his embrace letting his motions relax your mind. “I need food ASAP, i’m starving.”

“Alfred is working on dinner”, his voice low, “want to take that makeup off?”

You nod simply before standing up and following him into the master bathroom. He ushers you to sit down on the closed toilet seat just as you did this morning to him. He pulls out your makeup remover from beneath the sink and follows the same steps you showed him earlier.

He gives a tender kiss on your forehead , “s’beautiful”, he compliments, you smile, reaching up to plant a kiss on his lips.

a/n: snack on this while we continue to wait for poll results:)!

[blood-grove]

— school fights

— dad!ghoap & reader scenario based off my fics here :3

— tws; ofc fighting mentions, injuries , annoying adult (principal)

a/n; this isnt a chapter to odd adjustments just a scenario so pls dont treat this as a next chapter !

Fuck Fuck Fuckkk.

I was so fucking screwed.

But honestly the kid deserved it.

God my fist hurt so damn bad, I just tried rubbing it despite the fact I'm pretty sure I bruised my knuckles pretty badly.

Managed to sock him in the face though god damn it hurt.

I've never really gotten into fights much barely at all really, and it's been good at this school so far.

All into this one fucking kid decided to start fucking up your day for two weeks straight, You didn't even know what you did to cause this.

You weren't the tallest person either which also didn't help your situation Nearly comically shoved in the locker, Always having to quickly rush to your next class just in case the long open hallway would flood and stop up with foot traffic.

The relentless harassment, and the honestly uncreative insults thrown at you.

You just snapped.

John had packed me lunch usually I didn't ask since honestly I never got used to asking for things I felt everything they've gave me so far was enough, I didn't want to be spoiled even though there was a nagging voice saying I wasn't being spoiled.

This sort of parental affection made me feel spoiled, Made me feel like I almost had too much.

The principals voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Are you listening?!"

No.

"Yes.."

"I've already called both of your parents both of your behaviors were inexcusable- And you? Biting one of your classmates?!"

I slightly flinched.

Yeah I did bite them.

But that was also deserved, I hated this school's stupid no-tolerance policy, Nearly the whole class was there saw it.

They all saw him dump that milk carton on my head my hair still damp, I tried to just walk away but being shoved onto the ground was my final straw as I punched him, and then we were both on the floor he was bigger than me and obviously, And I wasn't made for fighting he had landed a few more hits on me than I had on him.

So I bit him.

Hard.

Then the teachers finally got in threw the small crowd of students and pulled us apart.

"What are you some kind of dog? Do your parents teach you nothing?"

I just stayed silent gripping my pants leg as avoided eye contact, Why was I getting torn into for self-defense? Her shrill voice was getting on my nerves at this point getting to them bad.

I doubted things would go any better if I completely shut down, But eventually, she let up on me and went over to the teary-eyed boy no doubt from my bite of just to gain sympathy I couldn't care.

I just pulled my legs to my chest as he chewed on my lip focused on the ground.

This discussion was just hell, I wanted to throw up, yell, and vomit all once.

We both were getting suspended for a week, You would be put in sperate classes as if that was going to stop any other interaction from happening.

And you were supposed fucking apologize?.

"What?" I spoke up finally as the principal looked over at me Simon looked over at me as well had luckily arrived before the other kids' parent came which would have basically felt like my doom feeling like they were just going to gang up on me and guilt me till he came.

"You bit another student-"

"He dumped milk on me he's been fucking with me for two weeks!"

"Watch your language-"

"I-" I stopped as Simon slightly glanced over at me and I just gave up at that point as I bit my lip nearly crumbling up the apology paper I was given.

I was sniffling quietly by the time we left the office.

"Wait here." Simon finally said something as he headed back into the office leaving me to sit down on a nearby bench as I sniffled tears streaming down my face.

Simon came back out a few minutes later.

"Where's the paper?" Simon looked over at me as I handed him the paper as he just ripped it up tossing it into the trash.

"Why'd you do that?-"

"Do you want to go get ice cream?"

"..Yeah."

"Ow"

"Sorry.." Simon mumbled as he wrapped up my bruised knuckles and hand, My other holding my ice cream cone.

"Well get it wrapped up in ice at home.." I just nodded as he shifted getting up from his crouched position and picking up his own cup of ice cream.

He sat back down and we sat in silince for a while as we ate out ice cream.

"..Are you upset?"

He glanced over at me.

"Yes."

"I-"

"For not telling us you were being bullied."

"Well..I..I just thought.." I just sighed I went quiet looking away I could hear him shift taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"..If it happens again tell me.." I looked over at him as he shifted.

"You don't have to write that apology letter.."

"W-Well you ripped it up so..Yeah I thought so.."

"I'm going to the gym tomorrow.."

He paused as he shifted as he got up to throw away his ice cream cup.

"I want you too come."

"I-..Why..?"

"So I can teach you how to punch someone properly."

a/n; idk what to put here so this is it lmao

[ddejavvu]

bfd!hotch comes to drop off some of your stuff that you'd been asking your bf to but he's been "too busy" to and when he sees you, lounging in the shortest shorts and your bf's shirt (which is actually an old t-shirt of hotch's), he looses his mind

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters), minors dni.

i changed this to ex!bf's dad, and this is not with jack because i could not make him anything other than the sweetest boy in the world </33 this is just an unnamed unspecified character that reader used to be dating!!

Aaron can't believe he's treating you better than his son did. He thought he'd raised the boy right, but apparently his son had run away from him. After finding someone new and cutting all contact with you instead of telling you outright, Aaron's son had then refused to return any of your things, and his breaking point was when he caught the boy's new girlfriend using your leftover facial soap in the bathroom.

So here he is now, a box of your things in his arms as he braces it against the door to ring the buzzer.

When you open it your eyes meet his chest, then trace up to his face like you were expecting someone shorter at the door. Maybe his son. He feels a little guilty that he isn't the boy.

"Oh! Mr. Hotchner," You smile, cocking your head to the side, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Uh, my son still had some of your things," Aaron manages to murmur, but his brain is slowly emptying, reading over the words on the faded t-shirt over your chest: GWU.

Why are you wearing his shirt?

"Oh! Um, thank you," You laugh awkwardly, reaching for the box. Aaron feels guilty by association, and can't imagine how embarrassing it must be for your ex-boyfriend's dad to dump a box of stuff on you.

"Is.. that all?" You raise a brow, watching as Aaron stands aimlessly in your doorway. He blinks, then you notice his eyes are on your chest, and you make the connection with your shirt.

"Oh! Right, my- here," You set the box down, reaching for the hem of the shirt you're wearing and pulling it over your head, "Sorry, I forgot I was wearing his shirt."

Aaron's heart pounds in the split second that you strip the shirt off, and it doesn't slow down when he sees the sports bra beneath. It's perfectly modest, something he'd see a woman jogging in on a hot day, but it's more than he's ever seen of you. And the fact that it had been his shirt concealing the vision he's faced with now? He's starting to feel a little bit like a horny teenager, chubbing up at the sight of boobs.

"Thank you," Aaron reaches for the shirt, "It's- I think this is actually my shirt, he must have grabbed it one day."

"Oh!" Your brows raise and you pick the box up again, "Well, thank you for letting me borrow it. Even if you didn't know I was," You crack a sneaky smile at him, and Aaron can't help but let a kind one slip over his own face.

"It was good seeing you," He hums, and he means it, because the girl traipsing around his house right now is grating on his nerves.

"It was good seeing you too, Mr. Hotchner," You agree after a moment of tense silence, "I- I wish things would have ended differently."

"Me too," Aaron nods, fist tightening around his shirt, "If you ever need anything, Y/N.. You're always welcome to call me. My son might have the moral backbone of a paper straw but I'm not going to turn against you because he did."

You're barely able to stifle a laugh at Aaron's open insult, gazing appreciatively at him, "Thank you. Really, I- I appreciate that. A lot."

Aaron nods, shirt in hand, "Have a good day, Y/N."

The 'You too!' that you offer him as he steps down your walkway rings in his ears well after he gets into his car and drives away. He stalks through his house on autopilot, ignoring both his son and the new girl he's with when they try to half-ass a greeting towards him. He beelines for his room, shutting the door behind him. His back meets the wood of the door as he leans against it, and he finally takes a good look at the shirt in his hands. There's a smear of what he thinks is your makeup on the neckline, and he feels like a depraved teen as he cautiously raises it to his nose. It's like you've drowned it in your scent, a sweet mix of perfume and laundry detergent that he's caught on spare pillows or the couch cushions after you leave.

He locks the door behind him and looks at the shirt like it'll tell him where to put it. When it doesn't, he tosses it onto his bed, hoping that some of the perfume will stick to his pillow.

He heads into the bathroom in a daze, head spinning and fingers heavier than they need to be while flicking the light switch: He needs a shower.

[hyckism]

BOX. — five

written part - 556 words

you and renjun return inside the shop, the cool breeze of the air conditioning hitting your face as you open the door. the familiar scent of old paper and ink envelops you, a comforting contrast to the bustling sidewalks outside.

as you walk towards the counter, you freeze. there, standing in the middle of the fiction section, is none other than your ass of an ex, beomgyu. the casual conversation you were holding with renjun cuts and he looks over to you curiously. noticing your silence, he glances over and his expression hardens.

"what's he doing here?" renjun mutters, his voice edged with irritation. you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"I don't know," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. renjun marches over to beomgyu, his usual friendly demeanor replaced by a scowl.

"can I help you with something?" he asks, his tone dripping with animosity. beomgyu looks up, a smirk playing on his lips.

"just browsing," he says nonchalantly, his eyes flickering to you. "hello, y/n." renjun steps closer, his posture aggressive. "I think you should leave."

"renjun," you say, placing a hand on his arm to hold him back. "It's okay. i can handle this."

renjun hesitates but eventually steps back, though his glare remains fixed on beomgyu. you take a few steps forward, your gaze locking with your ex's.

"what do you want, beomgyu?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

he chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves. "can't a guy shop for books? and what happened to gyu, huh baby?"

you bite back a retort, remembering how you used to love referring to him with that name, a name he only allowed you to use. "you’ve never picked up a book in your life," you say firmly. "why are you really here?"

he shrugs, his smile never reaching his eyes. "maybe I missed you. maybe I just wanted to see if you were still wasting your time in this dump."

anger flares inside you. "i love it here," you snap. "and i don't need you checking up on me. you ended things, remember?"

Beomgyu's expression darkens. "you’re always so sensitive," he says dismissively. "It's no wonder you're still stuck here."

renjun, unable to stay silent any longer, steps forward again. "that's enough. you've said your piece. now get out."

beomgyu glances between you and renjun, his smirk returning. "whatever. I’ll be back to visit you, when your lap dog isn’t around."

as he turns to leave, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. renjun's hand finds them, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"you okay? fuck him, he’s such a dick." he asks softly.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "yeah. thanks for having my back.” you look away warily, “actually i took the subway here and…"

renjun smiles back at you, his eyes warm. "i’ll drive you home when we’re off, you don’t even have to ask,” he reassures. "you know you don’t have to deal with him alone, right?”

you nodded again, though the fear still lingered. the thought of going home after this encounter filled you with dread. what if beomgyu decides to show up at your apartment? the very idea made you feel sick to your stomach.

you retreat to the back pulling out your phone.

previous — masterlist — next

gasp! dramaaaaaaaa😲😲

TAGS ☆ @yyangj3lly @miyawwn @buns-inhiding @axo-l0tl @slayhaechan

[motherofdogs1010]

Need to Know II (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: When she was ready to get back out on the dating scene after dumping a certain Winter Soldier, Y/N was a woman ready to get back out there. She just never expected to find herself in a relationship with a certain nerdy spider. Warnings: Reader is basically Penelope Garcia, toxic ex! Bucky, fratboy!Peter, older woman/younger man, age gap relationship, mentions of ageism, eventual pregnancy Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part I

Present Day

To say that Y/N ever thought she'd be in a relationship with someone younger than her, she would be lying if she said she did. She had never expected to find herself in a relationship where she was the older one, but here she was, laying on her Cal King bed as she watched Peter type away on his computer, writing a paper for one of his robotics classes.

Peter let out a frustrated groan before closing his laptop and falling down beside her, Y/N looked at him with a amused look on his face.

"This professor makes me regret going to college", Peter groaned, Y/N chuckled.

"You're just overthinking yourself", Y/N said as she scratched his head. "You'll do great, remember, it's your last year."

"Between school and being Spider-man, sometimes I feel burnt out", Peter said.

"You'll do great", Y/N repeated as Peter practically purred at the head scratches. “Once you’re done, you’ll be able to work with Tony like he promised and you won’t be so stressed out juggling everything.”

"How did you even become a technical analyst for the Avengers anyways? It's kinda random because you popped up out of nowhere."

"I hacked into the government's system and got on their watchlist, which led me to eventually hacking into FRIDAY for fun one day."

Peter looked at her and she shrugged but it was the truth; hacking and such had always been her thing and eventually led to her being sought out by Tony himself after she may have hacked into his system for shits and giggles.

"Well, that explains everything", Peter said, "can you hack into my professor's computer?"

"I could, but it'd ruin the pardon Tony got me", Y/N pouted, "but for you, I'd risk it."

She leaned over to Peter and planted a kiss on his lips, and Peter chuckled at her comment.

"Alright, maybe let's not send you to federal prison", Peter joked, "but you wanna go down to Delmar's and get sandwiches?"

Y/N nodded, "I just have to shower first."

As she begun to get up from the bed, she looked at Peter and said, "Wanna come shower with me?"

"Babe, if I ever say no, take me to Bruce because there's something clearly wrong with me."

With a giggle, Peter chased her to the bathroom.

After a steamy shower session that lasted longer than it probably should have, Peter was taking a quick call from his best friend, Ned, who had been accepted and was attending MIT before they left to Delmar's. Y/N decided to wait in the kitchen, walking in to see Wanda and Vision making brownies.

"Hey guys", Y/N said as she sat down at one of the kitchen island chairs.

"Oh hey Y/N", Wanda smiled as she mixed the batter.

"Hello Y/N", Vision greeted as he watched Wanda mix the batter.

"Venturing Vision's culinary skills to baking?" Y/N asked, Vision nodded and Wanda laughed.

"Where are you off to?" Wanda teased, "Peter whisking you away somewhere?"

So far, a majority of the Avengers seemed to be alright with her relationship with Peter, ignoring the age gap between the two of them.

Well, nearly all of them...

"We're going to Delmar's", Y/N replied back.

"Oh! Bring me back a sandwich", Wanda chimed.

"Will do", Y/N said, "hey, where is everyone?"

"Steve and Sam went on another run, Nat and Clint are on a quick recon mission", Vision replied.

The sound of shrill laughter boomed into their ears and Y/N saw Wanda wince and shake her head at the noise while she was mouthing 'wow' to herself.

Y/N knew who that laughter belonged to and she couldn't help, but want to laugh at it all.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't think you'd be here."

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N raised a brow to the person who spoke in a condescending tone.

Dot or Dottie as she heard Bucky call the blonde haired woman stood in the entrance of kitchen, popping a piece of bubblegum loudly while her phone was in her hand. If Y/N was being honest, her relationship with Bucky had been on the rocks for a while before Dot, but Dot was the final nail in the coffin to end her relationship.

And at one point, Y/N would have felt some form of bitterness towards Dot's presence, but now, she felt nothing but annoyance at the woman's persistent need to try and one up for some reason or another.

"Why wouldn't I be here? I live here", Y/N replied in a confused tone.

"I figured you'd be... rocking the cradle and all", Dot said with a smirk.

Y/N wanted to groan at the jab towards her relationship with Peter, it was Dot's biggest thing to constantly bring up.

"It's robbing the cradle", Peter interjected as he walked into the kitchen. "Not that it applies to us

Peter walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. Y/N noticed Dot's eyes hyper-fixated on Peter as Peter greeted Wanda and Vision but Y/N knew that were Dot was, Bucky was soon following and Y/N was not in the mood for dealing with the man.

"Ready, babe?" Peter asked as Y/n saw Vision look at the brownie batter.

"Yup", Y/n said as she slid out of the chair.

"Aren't you a little too old to be wearing that?" Dot asked, Y/N frowned.

Her and Dot were the same age and Y/n wore a yellow sundress since it was humid this time of year in New York. Y/N raised a eyebrow at Dot and glanced at Wanda, who rolled her eyes at Dot's comment.

"Nope", Y/n said, looking at the dress. "But you might wanna apply that logic to yourself, Dottie. We're the same age after all."

Dot frowned as Y/n got up from her seat, feeling Peter wrap an arm around her waist as he began to led them away fro the kitchen.

Y/N looked at Peter amused as he told her about his squished sandwich theory, a smile on her face as he explained that it made the sandwich taste better. Wanda had happily taken her sandwich, running away to continue watch Modern Family in her and Vision's room.

That left her and Peter in the living room, watching Ahsoka on Disney+.

"Man, I want to buy her lightsaber", Peter whined, "it looks so cool."

"It's a nice lightsaber", she agreed with a chuckle. "Personally, I want Darth Maul's."

"That's a huge one", Peter said, "they literally have to assemble it in parts."

"But imagine how intimidating it would be", she argued.

"Now what are you two lovebirds talking about", Tony chimed as he walked in.

"Lightsabers", Peter answered with a grin.

Tony and Peter began talking about some upgrades for his suit when her phone vibrated, she grasped it from under her and saw it was a text from Bucky. She wished she could block him, but since he was a member of the Avengers, she couldn't since she was a asset for them.

Opening the text, she frowned as a slew of texts began coming in.

She rolled her eyes and put her phone away from her as she hit 'DO NOT DISTURB'. She wasn't sure why Bucky had been like this, sending texts like this but she hoped he got the message soon as Tony said he was leaving to take Pepper on a date, allowing them to go back to their show.

Y/N relaxed back into Peter's embrace, laying her head on his shoulder without a care. She felt happy, even if she hadn't expected it to be with someone younger than her as Peter kissed the top of her head before she connected their lips together.

It was their monthly Avengers get-together over at the Compound, everyone dressed in their nicest clothes as Tony held a nice fancy dinner. Y/N wore a backless cocktail dress that she had a hard time convincing Peter he could not mess with until after the party was over, although, she had a hard time keeping herself from Peter with his rolled up sleeves that showcased his arms.

Right now, they were all scattered around the room; Nat was working the bar for some reason or another.

"Hey there Tech Queen", Nat said as Y/N approached her. "Where's your other half?"

"Talking science with Strange and Tony", she shrugged with a grin. "Not sure if I trust you behind the bar, Nat. You make the drinks as strong as Asgardian liquor."

Nat laughed just as Steve walked up to them, he kissed the side of Nat's head.

"What are you two laughing about?" he asked.

"Nat's bartending", Y/N answered, Steve winced.

"Yeah, maybe let's not", Steve said, Nat laughed and waved him off.

Y/N looked around to see Carol engaged in some form of arm wrestle with Thor, Sam watching the two, Wanda was conversing with Pepper, Peter still with Strange and Tony, and Bruce and Rhodey talking.

She wasn't sure where Vision was, knowing him he was probably phasing through some walls or something.

"Here, drink this", Nat said with a grin.

"Oh no", Y/N said with a smile. "I don't trust you with making drinks. Last time I had one, I--"

"Yeah, Y/N, do tell us what happened last time you had one."

Her mood was killed, instantly as she noticed Bucky had arrived. Her face said it all as Nat frowned at the man, she noticed even Steve frowning.

"Did this conversation involve you?" Y/N sassily said with a raised brow. "I believe this was a A,B, and C conversation."

"Oh, I was just wondering if the last time Nat made you a drink, you maybe did some things that you regret… or someone.”

"No, no regrets here", Y/N said as she looked at her nails.

Bucky was beginning to look like he had sucked on a lemon by his facial expression just as she felt a pair of arms around her, looking over her shoulder to see Peter.

"Mr. Barnes", Peter cooly said.

"Parker", Bucky gritted.

Y/N saw Nat taking a amused slip of her drink.

"Dateless tonight?" Peter asked with a smirk.

"Just for tonight", Bucky grumbled.

"Huh, how... unfortunate for you", Peter said with false sympathy. "If you don't mind, well, I know you won't."

Peter gestured for them to leave a fuming Bucky and a very amused Natasha to be dealt with by Steve.

Later, Y/N wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and he pulled her closer to her; Peter began to sway them with a grin on his face as she playfully shook her head at him, a grin making its way onto her face.

"Have I told you that you're pretty?" Peter asked.

"Not today, I don't think", she teased as Peter bumped their noses.

"What kind of boyfriend am I then?" Peter teased.

She felt happy with Peter, their relationship felt easy and uncomplicated as Peter connected their lips, squeezing her body a little as he tried to bring her in closer.

[enoe-of-noen]

Better than me

Contains: Insecure Gender Neutral!Mc, OM! Beelzebub, hurt/comfort, lotta words, poor writing :/

Banner credit

Mc looked at their test score. “Woah, a 64? That’s not too bad!” Their seat mate smiled, noticing Mc’s furrowed brows. “..what’d you get?” Mc stared at them with their cold eyes, making their seat mate shiver. “U-uhm! A-a…a 95..” Mc took a breath and smiled. “Good for you,” the teacher dismissed them and Mc waved them adieu.

“Mc! Mc!” A newspaper member walked up to them with sparkles in their eyes. “Yes?” “I made it into the art contest!! They actually liked my art!” Mc chuckled at their enthusiasm, pushing back their intruding thoughts. “That’s wonderful, I was confident in you anyways.” The member grinned before running off to their next class.

“…” Mc silently walked to their next class; looking down at the doodles on their paper. “Art…” They tapped their pencil on the paper repeatedly, before groaning. “I’m not even good, why should I bother thinking about it?”

“Mc?” Satan’s voice whispered. Mc turned to look at him with a raised brow. “Yes?” Satan pointed at Mc’s bouncing leg with concern. “You look troubled, something the matter?” Mc sighed, calming their leg down. “It’s nothing important, Tanny.” Satan wasn’t convinced but returned to writing notes. Mc huffed and looked at the clock, waiting for the day to be over with.

At lunch, Mc found themselves alone outside. “A beautiful day..heh, and here I am sulking on my mediocre skills.” They sniffled and took a bite of their food. “God, I’m pathetic..”

“Mc?” The voice made Mc jump and whip their head to the sound. “Oh, Beelzeburg, hey,” they smiled. “I’m not, uhm, annoying you by being here, right?” “Not at all, if anything, I need the company.” Mc scooted and made room for Beelzebub on the bench. “You still hungry? I don’t feel like eating,” they offered their lunch. “Thank you,” he took it with a small smile.

They sat in silence for a minute before Beel spoke. “Mc, are you..okay? Ever since this morning you’ve looked down.” Mc’s eyes went wide. “Oh, h-have I? Sorry, Beel, you don’t need to worry about it, I swear. Just…thoughts.”

“Thoughts?” Mc nodded at his confusion. “What..what thoughts?” He stopped eating, giving Mc his full attention. “Sometimes, I have these..thoughts. Thoughts that tell me I’m not good enough, that everyone is better than me.” Mc took a shaky breath, Beel’s hand placing itself on their back.

“I can’t get a stupid test mark higher than 70%, every art/craft I create is trash compared to actual artists, I stress about such stupid, little things, and the fact…” They sniffed. “The fact…I’m just human…” A tear fell from their eye. “I’m sorry, Beel, you probably don’t want to hear this,” they wiped their cheek.

“…I don’t mind. I like hearing your voice. And..it makes me feel useful to you,” he held their hand. “I can’t really help with those, but Mc, I love your art. I love your effort in practically everything. I love your drive to succeed. I love being here for you.” Mc sniffled. “I love you.”

Mc had slow tears falling from their cheeks. “I love the fact you’re human. That you allow yourself to be vulnerable. That you trust me,” Beel hugged them tightly. “I hope I can help you more, you’re very important to me, Mc.”

“Oh Beel..” Mc sobbed into his shoulder, clutching his shirt. “Mc, I love you. I know that there are people better than you, but, that doesn’t mean you’re any less amazing.” Beelzebub continued rubbing their back gently until they calmed.

“Thanks, Beel…I l-love you too.” Mc smiled, holding Beelezebub tighter. “No problem, Mc.” Beelzebub returned the smile. Lunch ended and Beelzebub led Mc to a bathroom to wash up, waiting outside patiently. “I’m done, let’s go,” Mc took Beelzebub’s hand before walking off.

“I’ll always have those days where I’m down in the dumps, but at least I’ll have you there by my side for as long as you can.”

Mmm could always be better.

[rosella35]

Kaleb's Bad Day: Part II

Part II of my little thing featuring Kaleb's existentialism and Brooke being... considerate? Consider this a teaser of what their relationship will be like two months after the events of the main story...

I hope you enjoy!

Content warning: contains swearing and themes of prejudice.

****

After checking briefly that the coast was clear, Brooke sucked in a breath and exited the girls bathroom. She walked down the empty hallway with as much purpose as she could muster, though her heart still pounded loudly in her chest. She could feel a second, much smaller heart pounding against her body as well, fluttering even faster than her own. Kaleb sat hunched up at the bottom of her jacket pocket, his tiny, shaking hands gripping the thick denim on either side of him to steady himself.  

After the two of them had recovered from their embarrassment in the bathroom and Kaleb had readjusted the toilet paper around his waist, Brooke had taken it upon herself to put the rest of their plan in action—anything to get her mind off of what she’d just witnessed. Obviously, Kaleb had protested against her planned hiding spot for him, complaining that it would be too obvious. To prove her point, Brooke had stood in front of the mirror by the sink, demonstrating how little Kaleb’s tiny form actually stood out from inside the pocket. After seeing that, Kaleb had shivered but said nothing, and dropped down into the pocket without a word. 

If anything could have reminded him of just how small he was compared to a human, it was that. 

A few minutes of walking later and Brooke cleared her throat, a sound that Kaleb felt as well as heard from his position. “We’re at your locker.” She announced. When no movement could be felt from her pocket other than Kaleb’s slight weight, Brooke frowned. “Oh, c’mon, are you really gonna sulk for the rest of the day? Your clothes are in there, right?” 

Carefully, she lifted the flap of the pocket up, watching the small borrower inside shield his eyes from the sudden change of lighting and peer up at her cautiously. Curled up as Kaleb was, her pocket almost looked roomy, a thought that had never exactly crossed Brooke’s mind before. “If you don’t wanna move yet, then at least tell me your locker combination.” 

“It’s 1-2-6-4.” Kaleb replied, voice quieter than normal. 

“1-2-6-4…” Brooke muttered to herself as she fiddled with the lock. Moments later, the door came loose with a faint click, and she pulled it open, revealing Kaleb’s untidy collection of belongings. Brooke stared at the locker’s contents for a moment in bemusement. At first glance, it looked like your everyday teenage boy’s locker: a disorganised pile of notebooks, pens, and crumpled worksheets. What drew her attention though was the assortment of knick-knacks Kaleb had managed to cram into one corner—stray buttons, rubber bands, bits of string and wire, thumbtacks, screws, aluminium foil, and even an empty plastic soy sauce fish from a packet of sushi. Brook wrinkled her nose. “Sheesh, it’s like a dumping ground in here. You do know we have bins on campus, right?” 

Kaleb gave a sheepish shrug from within the confines of her pocket. “What’s that saying you humans use? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure?”

She groaned. “You’re obsessive.” 

Not bothering to wait for his snarky reply, Brooke leaned into the locker so her chest was out of sight of anyone passing by and reached a hand into her jacket pocket, closing her fingers around the borrower inside as gently as she could muster. Kaleb couldn’t help but shudder slightly as he felt the all-encompassing pressure of those digits against his torso. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being handled by humans, despite how many times Brooke had proven herself to be careful in the past. Kaleb fought against his instincts to squirm against her grip as he was brought out of the pocket and into the relatively spacious interior of his locker. Once inside, he took a moment to adjust the toilet paper around his waist, before glancing across at Brooke, whose giant frame blocked out the expanse of the hallway beyond. 

“Thanks for the lift.” He said, shifting awkwardly under her gaze and trying to mask the unsettling feeling of being watched with a half-assed smile. “You can close the door while I get changed. I’ll knock twice when I’m done.” 

“Right.” Brooke nodded. The human girl spared the empty hallway a quick glance, before pushing the locker shut with a creak. 

The second the door clicked shut and darkness swallowed up the locker’s interior, Kaleb let out the breath he’d been holding in. His eyes adjusted instantly to the nearly pitch-black space, taking in the stack of notebooks, school supplies and trinkets he’d only ever interacted with at human size. It almost felt surreal seeing them now, like he was a stranger getting a glimpse into the unreachable world of Kaleb the human. Those thoughts nagged at Kaleb’s mind as he sought out the small pile of borrower clothes he kept tucked away at the back of his locker. Wasting no time, he tugged on a simple short-sleeved navy shirt, capri pants and tan shoes, and tapped lightly on the metal door to let Brooke know he was done.

Kaleb shielded his eyes as light flooded back into the locker and his world opened up again to reveal Brooke’s gigantic gaze. From outside, the human girl smiled slightly, glad to see him back in his usual borrower getup. Anything to get her mind off his bare chest, and… well… Brooke’s crude thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the sound of the school bell echoing through the hallway. Kaleb jumped at the volume, tiny hands clamped over his ears. “Crap.” He winced, glancing around nervously. “I forgot we still had recess before next period.”

“Me too.” Brooke said, before realising the implications. “Oh, shit.” Acting on instinct, her hand shot out to wrap around Kaleb’s midsection, and she quickly lifted the flap of her jacket pocket to drop him inside, out of sight. The borrower yelped at the sudden transfer, disoriented, though his breath hitched as the noise outside suddenly picked up, hundreds of humans beginning to swarm the halls in their mad dash to the cafeteria. He drew his knees to his chest automatically, feeling smaller than ever. Despite knowing full well that no one would ever suspect Brooke Tucker of all people to have a borrower hidden away in her pocket, the layer of denim separating him from the outside world didn’t feel thick enough. 

Brooke, meanwhile, slammed Kaleb’s locker shut before anyone could see what she was doing, and started off down the hall. She passed by her own locker on the way to retrieve her packed lunch—with her parents’ current financial situation, joining the line for the cafeteria felt like a fleeting memory—before hesitating, wondering where she should go. 

From inside her pocket, Kaleb’s ears were pricked, listening intently to the sea of voices and squeaking of giant sets of shoes on the vinyl floor outside. It was always disorienting to travel by pocket and even more so when he wasn’t able to see what was going on around him. With a sigh, he shifted into a more comfortable position with his back against the wall of Brooke’s chest, hearing as well as feeling the pounding of her giant heart through the denim. Suddenly, the commotion outside ceased, and Kaleb frowned to himself, wondering where exactly his human chauffeur had ended up. Tentatively, he lifted the flap of the pocket, though froze when he felt the pressure of her hand on the outside, covering it. “Hang on.” Her voice rumbled through him. 

Kaleb’s stomach lurched uncomfortably as he felt her take a seat. Finally, once she was settled, Brooke lifted the pocket’s flap to allow her borrower passenger to take in their surroundings. 

Immediately, Kaleb pressed himself back into the depths of the pocket. “We’re outside?” He gulped, blinking up at the blue sky he rarely ever got to see from his regular size. “I thought you’d go to the library or something.” 

Brooke leant back against the trunk of the tree she’d chosen to sit under. Her face was dappled with the shadows of the rustling leaves above as she stared down at him, confused. “No one ever sits here, so I figured it’d be safer. I guess I could find us a spot in the library though, if you really want.” 

“Oh.” Kaleb said, hiding his flushed face. It was rare for Brooke to consider his needs like that. “No, it’s okay.” He said hurriedly, trying to hide the flutter of nerves that always came with being outside in an unfamiliar place. “I don’t mind staying here.” 

“Sweet.” Brooke said simply, turning to get out her lunch. Unwrapping her somewhat squished sandwich, she hesitated, sparing her downsized classmate a thoughtful glance. “Uh, do you want some of this? It’s just PB and J, but if you’re hungry…” 

“Sure.” Kaleb smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” 

Unsure how to go about sharing her lunch with a borrower, Brooke broke a small portion off her sandwich and held it out to him between her pinched fingers. She tried not to think about how she’d used her bare hands to touch his food, or how stale the bread her mum had used to make the sandwich probably was. Luckily, Kaleb didn’t seem to mind at all. To a borrower, food was food, and the novelty of actually being able to eat while at human school wasn’t lost on him. He accepted the squished clump of bread and condiments with a grin, nodding his thanks. 

It didn’t escape Brooke’s attention that Kaleb hadn’t asked to leave her pocket since she’d sat down. “You can come out, if you want.” She said, looking out at their surroundings. The tree she’d chosen was far enough against the perimeter of the school grounds that no other students were in sight, other than a group of boys playing soccer on the oval nearby. Even if somebody did come over, Kaleb would have plenty of time to duck out of sight before they arrived.  

Apparently that wasn’t enough to convince the borrower in question. “I’m fine just staying here.” Kaleb said dismissively. “I don’t wanna risk anyone seeing me.” 

He supposed it was a version of the truth. In actuality, there was a larger part of Kaleb that was absolutely terrified by the thought of being stuck out in the open without his borrowing gear. It was one of those realities of his kind that he would never expect any human to understand, let alone Brooke. To him, venturing outside unequipped was like a death sentence, something even the most hardened of borrowers wouldn’t dream of doing. Just as humankind had survived by creating their tools and weapons and inventions, a borrower’s grappling hooks, sewing needle swords, and thumbtack daggers were like their lifeline. Without them, Kaleb would be the perfect prey for a crow or stray cat, or worse, an overly curious human who just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Which leaves me all the more dependent on Brooke right now. That unhelpful part of his brain reminded him. 

“Fair.” The human girl said. “I don’t exactly wanna be caught eating lunch with a borrower, either.” 

Kaleb smirked, internally glad she hadn’t pressed the issue. “Doesn’t really suit the exterminator’s daughter reputation, huh?”

“I will leave you here.” 

They were silent for a moment, and Kaleb took a bite of his makeshift sandwich, chewing thoughtfully and trying to ignore the sound of Brooke doing the same albeit at a larger, far more unsettling scale. “I never thought I’d see the school like this.” He admitted as a way of distraction, gazing over at the red and yellow brick building in the distance. From his current perspective, there might as well have been an ocean of grass separating it from where Brooke was sitting; a reality that was both humbling and unnerving at the same time. Kaleb found himself wanting to try and explain it to her, whether she chose to listen or not. 

“I’ve always kinda seen coming here as like my second life, where I can live the way any other human teenager would without being in constant fear of danger or being caught.” He said, arms draped over the lip of Brooke’s pocket as he brooded. “But right now, when I’m like this, it’s hard to explain. It makes it so obvious that the person I become when I’m human-sized—my whole identity when I’m at school—it’s all fake. Just a lie I built to protect this Kaleb. The real me.” 

Kaleb stared at the outline of his hands, so tiny in comparison to the human whose pocket he leant out of, and even tinier when held out in front of the backdrop of Westmount State High. When Brooke said nothing in response, he sighed, speaking more to himself than anything. “But still… Even though Upsize is a pain to deal with, and clearly it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to, I can’t imagine going back to the way things were before I started using it.”

Her borrower neighbour’s honest words stirred up a torrent of emotions inside Brooke; something that had been happening more and more frequently lately. I should’ve known he’d start getting all existential on me, her thoughts were screaming. Deep down, she knew that she and Kaleb were beginning to reach a bit of a stalemate with their empty threats and bickering, but a part of her still found comfort in those interactions. She could keep her guard up that way, and maintain a certain degree of separation from being genuine with him. Still, Brooke couldn’t deny that other part of her—one she tried to keep sealed away—that yearned for connection. If someone had told her two months ago that she’d be finding that connection from Kaleb Finch of all people, she would have laughed in their face. And yet here they were, and Brooke couldn’t help but agree with his words. She was sick of pretending, too. 

“You basically just summed up why so many humans like playing video games.” Brooke mused, swallowing the last of her sandwich and leaning back against the tree trunk with her legs stretched out in front of her. She laced her hands behind her head. “When you’re playing as a character and really immersing yourself in their world, it’s easy to forget how shitty your own life is behind the screen.” 

Now it was Kaleb’s turn to hesitate, not expecting such an earnest answer. Brooke surprised him more and more with those these days. “My life isn’t shitty.” He said. “It’s just…” He stared down at his hands again.

“Small?” The human girl offered with a smug grin.

Kaleb hid his own smile behind the material of her pocket. “I was going to say dull, but I guess that’s a more obvious way of putting it.” 

“To be honest, I forget too.” Brooke said. “That you’re actually a borrower. You fake being human so well it’s kinda scary. But then I come home and you’re suddenly popping out of some random hole in the wall and scaring the shit out of me like it’s the most normal thing ever.” She gave a half-hearted, knowing sigh. “I get it. For you, the difference between who you are at school versus home is literally huge, and honestly, I don’t even want to try and imagine what that’s like. But you’re not really as alone as you think. Every human who knows what’s good for them puts on a face at school to protect themselves. It’s just part of fitting in until you’ve figured out the kind of person you want to be.” 

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” Kaleb said, looking up at her dinner-plate-sized grey eyes as they gazed out across the grassy oval. He could see that the Brooke at school was a different person too, in a way. She always seemed sadder, more wistful. Hidden behind that trademark smug look of hers was the pain of understanding what it felt like to be marginalised. It made Kaleb wonder how much of that was his fault. 

“I just wish I could tell everyone the truth.” He blurted out before he could fall into that particular pit of self-loathing.

From his position, Kaleb could feel as well as hear Brooke snicker. “Seriously? Like the whole class?” She asked with an amused grin. “You reckon you could trust them all? Even Amy Snyder?” 

I trust you. Kaleb wanted to say. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He agreed instead, but found himself hesitating when two figures kicking a soccer ball across the oval caught his eye. Kaleb blinked, surprised at how small they both looked from this distance, even though he knew it was only a matter of perspective. The borrower sighed. “I’d want to tell Thomas and Marcus.” He amended. “I’ve known them since I started here back in middle school. It’s exhausting, lying to them about everything. I didn’t really notice it until I started opening up to you.” 

Brooke hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Now that you mention it, I guess you do find every opportunity to tell me some weird borrower fact that I don’t actually care about.” 

When Kaleb shot her a withering look, the human girl tried again, though not without smirking first. “You’re worried they’ll look at you differently once they find out what you are, right?” 

Kaleb’s gaze dropped to the inside of her jacket pocket, where he began to fidget with the overlock stitching lining the edge. “Well… yeah.” He said quietly. “I mean, you did, didn’t you?” 

“I… did. I mean, I do.” Brooke had to admit. He’d gotten her there. Glancing down at his tiny, sulking form, she sighed, trying not to think too hard about how much she meant the words that came out of her mouth next:

“But is that really a bad thing? Yeah, I admit I still think borrowers are shit-talking little tight-wads, and I bet you still think me and my family are just another bunch of human bigots… but at least that means we both understand each other a little better, right?” 

Kaleb froze in place. Tactless as she was, he could see Brooke’s intentions as plain as day, how this was her own roundabout method of cheering him up. It made him smile, properly this time, and he met her giant eyes, opening his mouth to reply.

But then the bell rang again, signalling it was time to go back to class.

****

Fourth period was as dreary as ever for Brooke, who sat in her usual spot up the very back of the classroom so she could doodle in her notebook in peace. Although she was by no means flunking out of the subject, she definitely didn’t harbour the level of care towards maths that the borrower stowed away in her pocket seemed to have. Feeling her eyelids droop out of boredom, Brooke hid a yawn behind one hand while she sketched the outline of a guitar with the other. She hadn’t felt Kaleb’s tiny form shift against the inside of her pocket in a while now, figuring he was busy listening intently to Mrs Crowley taking questions about their upcoming exam as promised. 

Brooke rested her elbow on her desk and propped up her head with a hand. At the front of the classroom beside the whiteboard, the clock ticked away at her tauntingly. She blew the bangs out of her eyes with a huff. The sketch of her old guitar had killed exactly ten minutes of class time. 

Only eighty more to go. She thought miserably, reminded again of Kaleb and his abnormal appreciation for maths.  

After triple checking that no one was looking, Brooke decided that now was as good a time as any to check on the borrower in question. Maybe seeing him taking rigorous notes using the tiny scrap of paper and pacer lead she’d provided him earlier would spur her into actually engaging in the lesson herself. So, as quietly and non-discreetly as she could muster, Brooke pinched the flap of her jacket pocket between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it up to peer inside. She was fully expecting Kaleb’s tiny hand to immediately try to bat away her intruding digits, and for him to let out a string of curses for interrupting his note-taking (which she probably deserved).

Instead, Brooke was met with a very different sight.  

Her borrower classmate lay fast asleep at the bottom of the pocket, paper scrap and lead all but forgotten. The human girl watched his tiny chest rise and fall steadily, undisturbed by her relatively giant eyes gazing in. His body was curled up, free of the tension it had harboured since shrinking down hours ago. The near-permanent shit-eating grin had been wiped from his face, his features softened and relaxed. Brooke’s gaze lingered on his slumbering form for a moment longer, before she let the pocket flap fall back into place.

So much for catching those stupid exam tips. She thought to herself. 

For some reason though, Brooke wasn’t as annoyed as she imagined she’d be. If anything, seeing Kaleb let his near-impenetrable guard down after everything he’d been through that day made the human girl’s chest swell with unexpected warmth and that all-too-familiar emotion she wouldn’t dare acknowledge out loud. 

The corner of her lips tugging upwards into a smile, Brooke let out a sigh and turned to a fresh page of her notebook, writing the title “final exam tips” at the top. 

“You’re welcome." She whispered as she got to work.