#and then when it's time to eat we pan fry them

[teddy06]

Random Polish!Ice brainrot

Ice who grows up making Pierogi following a recipe card hand written by his great grandmother that makes enough to feed a small army

Ice who after joining the Navy doesn't have the time/money/even enough people to eat all of those pierogi so he learns to pare down the recipe to be just a few servings worth, and enlisting Slider in the long tedious cooking process.

Ice who, after he and Mav take in Bradley, makes the same pared down recipe, and teaches little Bradley how to fill and seal each Pierogi perfectly, (meanwhile mav still struggles to get it right and produces lumpy results)

Ice who makes pierogi again for roosters first dinner back at home after everything, and when roo gets there early (bc he is his fathers son) he's immediately pulled back into the assembly line they'd established so long ago

Ice who realizes that now that the daggers are also practically his kids that he can make the whole recipe again, without cutting it down. Ice who puts all the daggers through a mini pierogi making bootcamp so that they all can help out.

(It turns out that Rooster, Bob, Harvard, Coyote, Halo and Omaha master filling and sealing really easily, so their left doing that while Phoenix, Fritz, and Yale roll out dough and cut out disks of it. Fanboys pierogi are still a little misshapen but he's determined to get it right. Payback takes trays of finished pierogi back to where Ice stands in front of the stove top, ready to blanch them.)

(Hangman and Mav sit out, Hangman because "really pops it's too many cooks in the kitchen, I won't be much help" and Mav because "I was on active duty in the pierogi wars for how many years now? I am officially retired now that the reinforcements are here) (they sneak into the kitchen after dinner and bake a pretty mean dessert, so they're still contributing)

[eudico-my-beloved]

I fucking hate my culinary class table group soooo bad i should be allowed to hit them with carrots i think

[bia-wayne-west]

Pregnancy — Barry Allen x Reader

Characters: Barry Allen (The Flash), Reader (You).

Synopsis: You have been married to Barry for two years. One fine day, you start to feel a hunger worthy of a little speedster.

Warnings: Pregnancy, seasickness, pregnancy discovery

N / A: I did this imagine in 10 minutes. I watched a pregnancy movie with my cousin, and then we went to watch The Flash, she suggested the idea to me and I loved it. Hope you like it.

I'm a Latina girl who doesn't speak fluent English, so I want to apologize for any writing errors you find. Feel free to correct me.

MASTERLIST

The day had begun. The sun came through the window, causing you to curl up even more in the duvets.

You ran your hand over the bed, feeling the sheet to feel Allen's warm body. There was only an empty space, indicating that he had been awake for some time.

Your mind tried to sleep again, however, a sweet smell flooded his nostrils. You could have sworn it smelled like pancakes and condensed milk.

The sheets were set aside as his feet touched the ground. With delicate steps, you made your way to the kitchen, being guided by the wonderful smell. You had no intention of surprising Barry, as he could see everything happening in slow motion and could easily see you approaching.

 Allen held a frying pan, trying to flip a pancake. On the kitchen counter was a stack of pancakes and two coffee cups of Jitters.

With a smile on your face, you approached your husband, placing your hand on the speedster's shoulder. Barry's face lit up, showing a sweet smile.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, my dear.”

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“You always make coffee, I decided to make it for you today.” Allen placed the last finished pancake on the plate, enjoying the view of what he had just prepared. “Are you hungry?”

“I think I could devour a whole cow.” Your stomach churned, complaining of hunger.

 You usually didn't eat much, unlike your husband. Barry had to consume at least fifteen thousand calories daily, so he could stay upright and healthy. He literally ate all day and kept him body skinny.

Unlike you, who hardly felt hungry. You were the perfect couple. When you couldn't finish your snack, Allen was able to eat everything and still had plenty of room in his stomach. A few weeks ago, you began to feel extraordinarily hungry.

 You ate almost the same amount of food as Barry. It seemed like you were a speedster, too. Her sense of smell could sense food being prepared in other rooms, as well as feeling terrible nausea and dizziness. You thought it was vitamin’s problem, and you bought some to make yourself feel better.

 Within seconds, the breakfast table was fully set. Without much ceremony, you joined your husband to enjoy their morning meal.

“I could have sworn you have hypermetabolism too.” He joked when he saw you steal a pancake from him after eating yours.

“I don't know what happened. It feels like I'm eating for an army.” You verbalized, picking up the dishes to wash them. As soon as your hand placed the last glass in the sink, a horrible sensation gripped your entire body. You ran to the bathroom, feeling a terrible urge to vomit. Your body leaned over the toilet as the breakfast was poured out.

In less than a second, Barry appeared at your side, his face full of concern. One hand held your hair, while the other smoothed your back.

 “Are you okay?”

“I am. I think I ate more than my stomach can handle.”

“Let Caitlin examine you.”

“I told you I'm fine, dear.” You got up with Barry's help. Along the way, you felt your vision darken and your body vibrate, as if you were a speedster. “I think going to see Caitlin is a good idea.”

 (…)

“I have two new features.” Caitlin said, as soon as she finished examining your blood. “A good one and a bad one, depending on one's point of view.”

“What's the good news?” Barry asked. Cisco, Joe, Barry, and you were waiting in the exam room. Caitlin held a sheet of paper with the results of your exams.

“You're pregnant.”

 Your world spun. Your chest collapsed with happiness. A year ago, you and Barry were planning to have a child, but you never had any luck.

Allen took your hand. The speedster's face was flooded with a smile. Everyone in the room was happy with the news of yet another person being added to Team Flash.

“And what's the bad news?” You asked.

“Very well.” She seemed to be looking for the right words. “I did an ultrasound, and it looks like the baby's heart has stopped.”

“You mean he's dead?”

Everyone in the room asked at once. Tears had already appeared in your eyes, you had barely gotten used to the idea of being a mother, and your little Allen was no longer with you.

“Theoretically, yes.”

“Explain it properly.” You demanded.

“When Barry was struck by lightning, his heart stopped several times. Doctors believed he had died because the machines couldn't record his heartbeat.” She explained. “But his heart had never stopped, what happened is that he was so fast that not even the machines could keep up.”

“So your theory is that the baby is like Barry?” Cisco chimed in. His face was in an expression it was always when he was thinking. “My God, that completely explains your extraordinary hunger and why you started vibrating like a speedster.”

“Our son is also fast.” Allen said, grinning from ear to ear. He deposited a beak on your lips, still holding your hand.

 Ten years later…

 You've finished setting the lunch table. The dish of the day was pasta with broccoli and cheese. Benjamin Allen's favorite meal.

After putting the last dish on the table, you called your child. Benjamin quickly descended using his powers.

The wind caused by your little one's speed left one of the glasses on the table unbalanced. Before Ben had a chance to catch him, another speedster came in front of him. Barry put the glass right where it was before, and went to meet him.

The brunette wrapped his arms around his body and pressed a sweet kiss to her neck. A laugh escaped his throat as he saw his son utter an exclamation of disgust.

“Please, your son is here watching you be completely disgusting. Ben said, sitting in the chair.

Benjamin has the same hair color as yours, but he had the same green eyes as his father. Everyone who saw him always said the same thing, that he was a faithful copy of Barry Allen.

 He and your husband were the guardians of Central City. The little one has not yet obtained all of his father's abilities, but he has the super speed and the ability to vibrate his body and molecules.

 In the middle of lunch, you smiled when you saw the size of your child's plate, which was three times larger than yours. That scene reminded him of something.

“Ben, would you like to hear the story of the day I found out I was pregnant?”

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist. 

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets. 

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving. 

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something. 

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster. 

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night. 

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head. 

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny. 

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street. 

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him. 

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe. 

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says. 

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness. 

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes. 

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler. 

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them. 

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay. 

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here. 

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down. 

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him. 

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air. 

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side. 

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning. 

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again. 

A hand drops onto his shoulder. 

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away. 

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster. 

He can handle a lot, but not that. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him. 

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.” 

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily. 

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move. 

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city. 

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall. 

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college. 

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks. 

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks. 

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents. 

It was fine. 

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look. 

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea. 

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise. 

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind. 

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality. 

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen. 

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food. 

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred. 

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him. 

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery. 

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day. 

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage. 

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help. 

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that. 

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money. 

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks. 

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously. 

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies. 

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension. 

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night. 

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer. 

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way. 

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes. 

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance. 

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be. 

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live. 

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling. 

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession. 

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan. 

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

[schrodinger-swriter]

OK OK LISTEN I JUST GOT THE BEST IDEA IN THE HISTORY OF IDEAS

So I am absolutely eating up at the idea of Sir Pentious and reader acting as parental figures to the eggs, and Iv been wanting to request a marriage prompt with him (Sir Pentious)

So I was thinking maybe there could be a way to mix the two, like he wanted to have a family and seeing reader act as a parent figure to the eggs just has him smitten to the point he’s like, MARIAGE NOW!!!!

AND THEN THE EGGS GET TO HELP OUT TOO AND ITS SO CUTE TO THINK ABOUT I AM GONG INSANE JUST HEAR ME OUT ON THIS AAAAAAAAA

Also I hope your having a good day/night, always happy to see your fics :^)

Marriage with Sir Pentious

This will also double for M for the fluff alphabet, for Pentious!

Writing this between cooking dinner, I'm pan frying some potatoes but I need something to do between stirring them... or I'm going to constantly stir them and they won't get crisp..

I hope you enjoy! C:

Sir Pentious sees marrying you being his ultimate goal, it makes sense given what time period he died in! Oh but he's so... all over the place in trying to find the best way to ask for your hand! The egg boiz aren't making it any easier to keep it a surprise! They're all clambering around each other and talking amongst themselves, it would be a great shock if you somehow didn't hear them!

I enjoy the idea that Pentious would ask Charlie and the rest of the cast to help him. Mostly Charlie, I mean we see him in the show telling him about his crush on Cherri, when they're all talking, when Alastor is talking to Niffty... At least I believe that's when it happened and what happened, there was no audio for them talking.. but the body language!

Ramble aside, Charlie really helps give him some ideas and a pep talk!

The ceremony itself it lovely, and of course hosted at the hotel. This poor man... oh he's so so lucky, he's probably crying multiple times throughout the ceremony. Definitely during his vows. His hood fans up when he sees you walking down the aisle towards him. Or when he's walking down the aisle, if you don't want to do it he'd swap with you in a heartbeat!

The crowd is filled with the egg boiz crying, a few congratulations being thrown from them during the vows.. it's a little distracting but it's sweet.

The egg boiz already saw you as a parental figure to them, but this just cements it! I doubt they would call you "mom", but it's obvious they see you in that role... Sobs..

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.5K] smut, eddie's a little shit, bottom!steve if you squint and and impossible quest.

You were being cruel, you knew that. 

But good god, Steve looked so fucking pretty and it was so much fun. It started with a dare, a challenge, a joke among friends, a bet that was sealed with an almost kiss that had Steve hanging his head back and groaning two seconds in. 

‘Cause it was a Saturday night and you were on his lap in a booth at the diner, for no real reason other than you wanted to be close. There was plenty of room between your friends, Robin curled into the corner by the window, Nancy and Jonathan pressed into each other's sides and Eddie leaning lazy on across from you both. 

Milkshakes were half finished, stray fries and spilt ketchup on the table and Robin was rolling her eyes at you both when you abandoned your dinner for the sake of pressing your nose to Steve's cheek and whispering in his ear. He responded with a grin, a hand on your thigh that almost slipped indecently high for such a public setting and finally, your friends cracked and—

“Can you not keep your hands off each other for more than an hour?” Eddie asked. His question was blunt but his tone was good natured, filled with humour and Jonathan snorted. “We’re eating.”

“No,” Robin answered for you, “they can’t.”

“Leave them alone,” Nancy defended, smiling from behind the dessert menu. “It’s sweet.”

“It’s borderline pornographic,” Robin responded mildly. 

Eddie cackled. “If only, Hawkins is dull without the gates of hell opening up.”

Steve glared.

“Seriously though,” Eddie continued, brandishing a half eaten fry in you and Steve’s direction. “S’like you gotta be touching each other twenty four seven. You gonna keel over if you don’t have your hands on her, Harrington?”

Jonathan stretched out from where he was slouched against the leather booth, grinning at Eddie and ignoring his girlfriend's long suffering sighs. “I think he would, y’know,” he laughed. “Did he tell you about how he almost ran over Mrs Lafferty’s cat?”

Robin gasped, eyes wide as she leaned over your and Steve’s laps to gawk at Jonathan. 

“Mr Pebbles?”

The boy nodded, smile sly and Steve was groaning, swiping the hand that wasn’t on your leg over his eyes. He hated his friends. 

“Too busy groping each other in the front seat.”

Eddie hollered and you turned, cheeks warm as you slapped softly at your boyfriends chest. “You told him that?” You cried out, but your friends were up in arms, voice clamouring to be heard. 

“Steve! Mr Pebbles is the backbone of Maple Street!”

“Honestly, you guys, you really should be more careful when you’re driving—”

“We’ve walked in on them doing worse, I dunno why anyone is surprised. Remember that time at Hop’s birthday dinner? Dustin almost opened the bathroom door and saw them fu—”

And then Eddie was slamming his palm on the table, cutlery clattering and the elderly couple across aisle glared at him even more than they had already been doing. 

“A bet!” He declared and everyone groaned. “A challenge  - a quest - if you will.”

“Oh Jesus,” Robin sighed tiredly, rolling her eyes as she fell back against the window. “Here we go.”

The diner lights glowed neon and somewhere in the back of the kitchen, a drying pan hissed and popped. Steve’s hand was still on your thigh and Eddie was looking at you like his new favourite game. 

The curly haired boy wiggled his eyebrows at you and Steve, his grin sharklike. “Up for it, kids?”

Steve was muttering something under his breath and it definitely involved obscenities and snippets of a story about how Eddie’s last ‘quest’ got them all banned from the library and Robin a sprained ankle. 

Neither Robin nor Nancy had yet to forgive him. 

 But you just leaned back into Steve, smiling when he hooked his chin over your shoulder and you matched Eddie’s smile, head tilted to the side, watching him, calculated. 

“What is it?”

————— 

And now it was three days later and you were sitting at the bottom of Steve’s bed, shirt lost on his floor and your skirt indecently high, the fabric hitched up across your hips as you ran your fingertips across the skin on the inside of your thighs. 

The only light came from the bedside lamp, the last of the day giving away to night as the sun sunk behind the houses across from Steve’s bedroom window. 

Everything was pink and rosy, the light, the lavender tinted shadows, the rumpled bed sheets, Steve’s cheeks. 

“Baby,” Steve groaned, saying the pet name like a curse, back pressed to the headboard as he stared at you from behind messy hair. “Baby, c’mon.”

You grinned. 

“S’wrong, Steve?” You cooed, bordering on patronising but the boy didn’t care. He just huffed out a hot breath and squirmed, chest bare and his palm dragged across the hard outline of his cock. “You look a bit pent up.”

“I am,” Steve grunted, eyes squeezing shut as you brought your knees up to your chest and spread them, legs stretching back out to show off the white underwear you wore. “Babe, this isn’t fuckin’ fair.”

“What’s not fair?” You were being mean but fuck, if it didn’t made Steve’s cock jump under his sweatpants. “You said you could last, that’s what you told Eddie, right? A whole week, yeah?”

The boy huffed, eyes opening to watch you trace a finger along the cotton between your legs, the wetness there turning the material a little translucent. Your lips parted and Steve moaned, sounding wrecked. 

“Christ, can we not talk about Eddie right now, please,” he choked out, grabbing at the sheets, fishing them in his hands. “Babe, c’mon, wanna touch you.”

“Touch me and you lose, Stevie,” you told him sweetly. “S’only been three days.”

“Tell me about it,” he huffed, eyes hooded as he gazed at you, his stare following the hypnotic motion of your finger moving up and down your cotton covered slit. “Feels like m’gonna burst. Jesus, babe, you’re killin’ me.”

You were smiling, a little cruel but then Steve was swearing wildly, pushing himself onto his elbows when you tucked a finger under the cotton and pulled it to the side. 

“I know,” you whined back, over exaggerated and pouting. “Got me so wet, Steve, just wanna feel you.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Steve groaned, “baby, please.”

So you took a little pity, although the boy swore louder, crawling over his lap so you could sit yourself pretty there, legs splayed on either side of his hips. You traced the lines of his hip bones, the v shape that framed the ladder of hair on his tummy and you grinned when he rocked up into you, lips parting on a sigh. 

“Better?” You whispered. 

“Yes— no! I don’t fucking know, Jesus Christ, I just need to touch you.”

“Touch me and you lose,” you reminded him again, voice sticky sweet, your palms pressed to his bare chest as you leaned down, tits pushing against the lace of your bra and Steve felt like he was about to bite through his cheek. 

“I don’t care about the stupid bet,” Steve huffed out. He looked broken, head pushed back into the pillow, jaw slack and pupils blown wide as he let his gaze roam over you, his skin as warm as yours, cheeks flushed from the way you wiggled on top of him. “Fuckin’ Eddie.”

“I thought we weren't talking about him?” you quipped lightly, bringing your hands back to your skirt, pulling it up your thighs to flash your underwear again. 

“Shit,” Steve choked out, hands coming to his hair to pull at it in frustration. “We’re not.”

“Wanna watch?” You murmured, smiling as one bra strap fell down a shoulder. You didn’t bother to fix it. “Watch me touch myself, Stevie?”

Steve hissed, hips canting upwards and his hands hovered at your waist, fingers twitching. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” you admonished, feeling the ghost of a touch over your skin. “No touching. You just gotta watch, yeah? Can you do that?”

Steve wasn’t sure he could but he nodded anyway, desperate, eyes wide as your hand went back to your underwear, tugging aside the cotton once more and letting two fingers push into the slick there. You sighed, breath stuttering and Steve lost it underneath you, cursing and groaning, his cock jumping at the sight of how wet you were. 

You took your time with it, made the boy whine as you pressed circles to your clit, slow and lazy, head hanging back, chest pushed out, your other hand curled into the soft cotton of Steve’s sweats for balance. You were dying to feel his hands on you, but there was a masochistic need to hear the boy beg for you. 

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” he breathed out, “that’s so hot.”

“Yeah?” You asked nicely, voice soft and breath stuttering as the pleasure started to pick up. You wiggled a little, lifting yourself up enough to be able to push a finger inside of you, another to make yourself gasp. “You like watchin’, huh?”

Steve nodded, head bobbing frantically and his dick was throbbing beneath you, twitching against your thigh and you wondered if you could make him come like this, if he’d fall apart for you with the briefest of touches. 

“Such a good boy,” you whispered and you were half joking, only teasing until Steve’s lashes fluttered and he gasped out at your words, fingers twisting the bedsheets into balls once more. 

If Steve got harder, you only got wetter, and you whined at his reaction, eyes wide and you leaned down to him. Your hand was still crushed between you both and you rutted against the friction it created, your clit grinding against your fingers and the feel of Steve’s hard cock. 

You didn’t kiss him, not yet, just pressed your nose against his and panted against his mouth, both sets of lips parted as Steve did his best to arch up into you. 

“Y’know,” Steve breathed out, chest heaving against yours, “I don’t think this is what they meant when they said we had to keep our hands off each other for a week.”

You huffed out a laugh and Steve grinned, lips brushing over your jaw and chin, soft and sweet enough to make your eyes flutter shut and you leaned into it, fingers moving faster, trying your best to find that spot inside you that only Steve seemed to be able to reach. 

“Technically,” you gasped, “you’re not touching me.”

Steve threw his head back and let out a loud, filthy sound as his cock moved under his sweats, slipping to sit underneath your cunt, the pressure of it becoming too much for him. 

“Don’t fuckin’ remind me,” he hissed. “Need to though, please baby, c’mon—”

And then: “Oh god, oh shit, Steve! Fuckfuckfuck.”

“—are you gonna come?” Steve gasped out, falling back into the pillow as his eyes rolled back and he groaned. “Fucking hell, sweetheart, that’s it, c’mon, let me see you.”

You keened high as you kept rocking yourself against the boy and your fingers, reaching up to fist Steve’s messy hair in your hand and you pulled, tugging him up to kiss you as you came. You couldn’t help the way you pushed and pulled yourself over his lap, getting him and yourself a little messy, your fingers circling your clit. The friction was too much and it wasn’t enough and it felt too good but fucking hell it still wasn’t Steve that was inside of you. 

But he was swearing into your mouth, stuttering and groaning between each lick of your tongue over his and your hips twitched over his, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You felt a little dirty, using him to get yourself off as he lay hard as a rock underneath you, eyes dark and hooded with need as he gazed at you. 

“That’s it baby,” Steve huffed out a laugh, voice a little strained as he stared up at you, lips shiny from your kiss, cheeks pink and warm. “Keep goin’, yeah, that’s it, you look so fuckin’ pretty when you come, Christ.”

You were panting as you came down, slick fingers pushed to Steve’s chest and he groaned, eyes pleading with you even though he kept his hands by his sides. 

“Was that good?” He murmured. 

You nodded, too gone to speak, your eyes a little watery from the intensity of it all and you burned when Steve said:

“Show me.”

So you brought your fingers to his lips, letting out a little whine when he sucked them almost obscenely, tongue on the pads of your fingers so he could taste what you refused to give him. He looked like a man stared as his eyes rolled back at your taste, humming around the two digits, his own hips stuttering under your own. 

It was only then you realised that you weren’t the only one to have made a mess, a dark grey spot on Steve’s sweats that only seemed to grow. 

You gasped, all faux dramatics as you slipped your fingers from the boy’s mouth and tucked them under his waistband, pulling back the elastic to let it snap against his tummy. Steve whined, sensitive, and you grinned down at him, shaking your head. 

“Steve Harrington,” you tutted, full of playfulness. “You’re filthy.”

His cheeks burned, hating that he liked the way you teased him, a little in awe that you made him come in his pants like a fucking teenager. 

“D’you really blame me?” He asked. “Grinding all over me, looking like that and then you come?” Please, give a guy a chance.”  

You preened a little at his words, skin warm and slick to the touch from your exertion but you rewarded him with a kiss, chest pushed to his as he hummed against your lips, happy to feel you. 

You pulled away too quickly though, the boy chasing your mouth with his and he finally gave in and grabbed your chin with one hand to keep you where he wanted. 

You grinned against him, nipped at his bottom lip and pulled back just enough to pretend to scold him. 

“M’tellin’ Eddie,” you whispered, all faux seriousness. “That’s a rule break.”

Steve rolled his eyes and huffed before switching your positions, reminding you just how easily he could’ve overpowered you if he wanted to as he flipped you underneath him. You squeaked at the movement, the mattress bouncing and Steve blew a raspberry onto your neck. 

“New rule: no talking about Eddie fucking Munson when we’re half naked.”

You snorted, titling your chin up to let Steve kiss a line down your throat, teeth grazing at the space where it met your shoulder and you moaned breathily, already wanting more of him now that he finally had his hands on you. 

“Deal,” you murmured. “You still lost, though.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh and he rocked his hips down into yours, the feel of his cock hardening again making you ache. 

“Did I?” 

[19ndonboy]

religion’s in your lips - mason mount

words: 2.1k

A/N: back again with a new imagine. i hope y’all will like this one, feedback is appreciated!! thank you

you could feel soft lips on your shoulders as you slowly drifted off sleep. you opened your eyes, adjusting them to the light passing through the curtains as they landed on your boyfriend. and years later, you still found your heart doing a somersault. you thought about how lucky you were to have this view every morning and you wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world.

you turned your head to face him and as you whispered a quiet “hi”, he felt his heart skipping a beat. he was so in love with you, he feared it could destroy him. he kept on his trail of kisses from your shoulders to your jaw to end up on your face as he counted them.

“18” on the mole on your right cheek, “19” on the tip of your nose, “20” on your eyelid as you closed your eyes with a smug smile plastered on your face, “21” on your forehead, “22” on your pink lips.

a kiss which ended up being messy as you couldn’t stop yourself from stupidly giggling as he thought about how he would turn the world upside down if he had to to hear your laugh over and over again.

“happy birthday my love” were his words that erupted a crimson taint on your cheeks. and with words minimizing how full of love your heart held for the man in front of you, you cupped his head and passionately kissed him. and you were hoping he could hear your heart exploding in you just as much as you could hear his.

you pulled away from his lips and he gave you his signature look, the one that got you weak to the knees before kissing your forehead as only him had the secret recipe to that warm and safe feeling that was spreading through your stomach. you laid your head on his bare chest as his hand found its usual spot in your hair, tangling them while you appreciated the peaceful silence surrounding the both of you.

and you don’t know how long you stayed here until all you could hear was your stomach growling, being too hungry to think about anything else but mason’s speciality, avocado toasts. you heard him chuckle behind you before he spoke “what do you think about getting out of bed, i’ll make you breakfast and then we can do what i planned for this special day” with a smirk on his face. he had a way with words and he knew it. you nodded and then made your way downstairs to the kitchen with mason following you.

he wasn’t happy with that though. before you could even realize, he had lifted you up and you were on his shoulders, you let out a high-pitched sound before laughing out loud. his favorite sound in the whole world, he repeats every time he hears it. he sat you down on a chair, asking you not to do anything as it was your day, “just like every other day” he would say when soppiness got to his head.

so you spent the next ten minutes watching him go in circles between a drawer and a frying pan in your kitchen while he was humming to your taylor swift playlist. and he took your hand to dance with you when the famous song 22 started playing in the room, joking about how you had waited an eternity to “relate to those words”.

you, then, both took your plate and went to sit on the sofa in your living room and started to eat in front of a random tv program, paying little to no attention to it as you were talking about your plans for the day. although, your birthday was never something you were looking forward to and therefore there was never much celebration on that day and it had been like that for years. but that was until you met him. he always made sure you knew how much you were loved and appreciated by people around you and he swore to himself, a smile would be the only trait visible on your face on that special date.

having finished your avocado toasts, he stood up, gave you a quick kiss on your head and excused himself two minutes as he ran upstairs. he returned right after with a box in his hand and a grin plastered on his face. you hid your face in your hands, which provoked a laughter from mason. you grumbled as he took your hands in his to make you look at him. “mason, you know i didn’t want anything for my birthday” you said, barely audible. “y/n i know but i wanted to. please, take it” he said while kissing each one of your knuckles.

you opened it and found a smaller black box, you gave him a quick glance before opening it and what came to your sight was a necklace with a gold heart locket. you opened it and what you weren’t expecting was a note with the words “forever and always, m” in it. a first sob left your lips and you couldn’t stop the ones following it. he held you tight and your head found itself in the crook of his neck, thanking him a hundredth time. he kissed your forehead, and waited for your sobs to subside. “hey hey, no crying on your birthday” and your sobs turned into giggles. “this is the best present i could’ve asked for mason, tha-“ he stopped you knowing another thanks was on its way. “your day is not over baby, get ready and wear a bikini” he instructed you to as he winked, making you roll your eyes as you did like he said and ran upstairs to your wardrobe to get ready for the day.

you put on your favorite blue bikini, your pink and orange crochet dress and you were ready to leave for his surprise destination. he was wearing a linen white shirt, one of your favorites, and a black short and all you could think about was how you wanted to unbutton his shirt and take it off. he was so handsome, the prettiest man you ever laid your eyes on, you thought. you hopped in his car, your playlist ready to be played through the car speakers. kendrick lamar’s song was starting and you were good to go, not knowing where he was leading the two of you, excitement filling you.

an hour and a half and you could see a beach in front of you. he knew how much you loved the beach, as it reminded you of what used to be home for you in your country. he was happy with his surprise when he landed his eyes on you and saw you smile. lucky for you two, there weren't much people here that day. being too excited to leave for the day, you didn’t even realize when mason put a basket full of chocolate chip cookies and a bottle of hard lemonade in his car. looking at the cookies like a kid on christmas day, you sat on the beach blanket and ate one.

and you spent the next hours just like that. eating cookies, drinking lemonade, laughing, kissing each other, talking and appreciating the moment. you couldn’t have asked for anything better as the two of you thought back to your first date.

“you know i was so nervous before. i called christian and he couldn’t stop making fun of me.” you laughed as it was the first time that you were hearing about this. “hey don’t laugh! him and nicole literally joked about how much i was sweating last week. they laughed about how smitten i was already back then” he blushed and you couldn’t stop yourself from pecking his lips “and they were right.”

“idiot” you rolled your eyes, although you’d never admit that his words made you feel dizzy. “that was the most chaotic date ever” as you recalled. “god, it had started so well in that café. stupid joke after stupid joke and i was asking myself how lucky did i get to be here with you. and i remember how neither one of us wanted to end it here so we went on a walk.” you could hear him laughing as you continued. “and then it just started pouring and as people with common sense, we ran to a store to get umbrellas”

“and that’s when i knew you were it for me.” you couldn’t hide the frown on your face at his words. “we got out of the store and before you opened the umbrella, you looked at your face through a car window, saw the mascara stains on your face and erupted in laughter.”

“mason, i hit your face with that umbrella a few seconds after. how-“ you both laughed at how concerned you sounded, clearly a tree had knocked into him to come to this conclusion at this time, you thought. “i know some people would have ran away after how this date ended but not me, that was the best one i ever had. from the moment i saw you enter that cafe in that little black dress to the moment i let you in the front door, my vision blurry because of the blow.”

you couldn’t stop your heart from beating so fast. you never knew this was how he felt after your first date. you know you made it here after this but you never thought he had felt like that. he kissed you, the kiss getting more heated by the second and you had to stop the two of you before going too far on the beach. he wrapped his arms around your body and you laid down on the beach blanket, kisses left on each part of your skin he had access to. and you stayed in this position for the next few hours, watching the sunset with no desire to leave this beautiful place for now.

eventually you had to go home and this day was slowly coming to an end. your hand in his, you made your way to his car and went home. his hand rested on your thigh the whole ride, making you feel safe and all giddy inside. he parked his car in the porch, flexing his biceps which earned him a slap on his shoulder as you feigned to be disgusted. he was so stupid and why were you laughing like a 15 years old girl?

you made your way inside and left your shoes in the entrance, taking the basket with you to put everything you took with you away. mason then took you with him and led the both of you to your bathroom. there was no better way to keep going with your day than to hop in the shower with your boyfriend. the two of you undressed yourself before getting under the steamy water. he grabbed your shower gel and started to wash your back, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck to your lower back.

your turn to wash him arrived and while doing so, you left kisses here and there on his collarbones, his shoulders, feeling him shiver under your touch. water soon turned cold and you both got out of the shower. picking pajamas for the night – one of mason’s shirts for you. and when you thought that this day could not get any better than this, you heard the doorbell. confusion written all over your face, you followed mason downstairs and saw him with a bag from your favorite japanese restaurant. food he had ordered during the day without you noticing.

you sat on the sofa, a blanket covering your legs and you ate sushi in front of one of your favorite rom-com movies, how to lose a guy in 10 days. you couldn’t recall the amount of times you had watched this movie, mason being your first victim when it came to watching the same movies over and over again. but as much as you loved it, your eyes drooped, wearied after such a long and emotional day at the beach. mason, on his side, could sense your tiredness as you weren’t commenting on the movie like you would usually do.

tv off and before you knew, mason was bringing you to your shared bedroom, and next you were in your bed. he followed you right after turning the lights off and he had his arms wide open for you to engulf yourself into them. one last meaningful kiss shared and before you drifted off to sleep, you heard him whisper “you’re so special y/n, i don’t think you’ll ever realize what you do to me”.

tag: @10vnderhaze @mountymase @fallinforerling

[talaok]

Chapter one: The perfect life

Pairing: No-outbreak!Joel x married!reader

Series summary: You moved to Austin Texas with your husband due to his job, but your already troubled marriage is about to get more complicated when the contractor remodeling your home, Joel Miller, will enter both of your lives.

Chapter summary: Moving to Austin was the right decision, but you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.

warnings: hints to the reader's unhappy childhood, and a very short smut moment

Next chapter

New city, new home, new life.

You should have been happy, you really should have been, but the weight that had sat on your chest as you got on the plane had lingered.

You wanted this. You had to.

You had the perfect life.

A big house with an even bigger lawn, more money than you ever thought possible, and a loving husband.

A loving husband of two years, a loving husband who had to move to Texas for work, a loving husband who you followed across the country, leaving everything and everyone behind, because it's him, and you love him. 

Yes. You love him, just as he loves you.

You just needed time, time to adjust, and find a way to start new.

And Austin seemed as good a place as any.

It's warm and sunny here, and the city has an aura you had never quite encountered in any other place.

It's different from New York, yes, but different is good, different means change, and you needed a change.

"I smell burnt"

"oh- shit" you hissed, your gaze finally dropping from the window and down towards the pan where bacon was frying.

You turned the stove off and opened the window, trying to get some of the smell out. 

"You ok?" 

You looked at Richard, his deep blue eyes, perfectly slicked-back hair, and the tailored suit hugging his body like a second skin made him look as if he had come straight out of a commercial.

He wasn't watching you anymore, his attention had moved to the coffee maker.

"yeah I'm fine, I'm just a little tired I guess"

"you should rest today," he said, pouring some coffee into a cup

"I will" you nodded, glancing at the pan "I should probably make more bacon"

"don't worry" he stopped you "I'll just eat something on the way"

"you sure?"

"Yeah" He took a sip from his mug and set down on a stool 

"So..." you walked to the opposite side of the kitchen counter to face him "Are you nervous?"

He raised his eyes from his phone to look at you.

"Why would I be? I'm the boss"

"yeah, but it's still your first day"

He shrugged "I just want to get it over with, today's only gonna be meetings and people introducing themselves, tomorrow's gonna be my actual first day"

"right," you offered him a small smile "And have you talked to Francis?"

"Yeah, he said he'll show me around today" 

He stood up to place the cup in the sink.

"and about the remodeling?"

"Right, yeah he gave me a number, I'll text it to you"

"great"

Silence fell, and with it, a spell seemed to turn you both to stone

He broke it first

"Right" he glanced at his watch "I better go"

"Right," you said, taking a step closer to him.

His lips were on and off of yours so quickly you wondered if you had imagined it.

"Have a great day" you managed, as he walked out of the room

"you too"

__ __ __

The shelves had finally started to come to life.

"Why do we have to bring all your books, it's a waste of time" you recalled Richard saying "It's not like you're gonna read all of them again"

It infuriated you how he didn't get it, how completely baffled he was by your decision.

Like hell you were leaving such an important part of you back home.

Some of the volumes filling the living room you've had since you were a child, some of these stories raised you when there was no one else bothering to do the job.

A small, unexpected smile pulled at your lips as your gaze fell to the last remaining book in the box.

'scary stories to tell in the dark'

You were only 12 years old when you read it. You had found it in the school library, and tempted by a bravado that didn't belong to you, you had picked it up and stuffed it in your bag, carrying it all the way home as if it were the most precious treasure ever known to man.

It had helped silence the screams down the hallway, but it also made it impossible for you to sleep for a whole week.

A quiet laugh climbed your throat as you remembered watching every shadow in your room mutate into a horrifying monster.

You had never given it back.

The barely-together copy in your hands was the same one you had held 22 years ago.

For some reason, out of all the books you've read, this one you held closer to your heart.

Perhaps it was the rebellion behind the act, or perhaps, it was the feeling that that book had given you, the courage, the proof that you could do it, that you were gonna come out the other end, the proof, at last, that monsters can be fought, and at times even defeated.

You sighed, as you settled the book onto the now overflowing shelf, taking a step back to admire the living room.

That's it.

Piece by piece, you were gonna make this your home.

The next hours passed in a frenzy and by the time only a box was left on the floor, it was two in the afternoon.

You had been so caught up with your work you had forgotten to eat.

And now that you realized... god if you weren't hungry.

It's just one more box though, you thought as you peeked at it.

Yeah, c'mon I can do this

Only the stuff for the coffee table remained, and as you took the first item-

Fuck.

The shattered lamp rested on the floor like paint on a Pollok.

Fuck me, man, that was expensive.

You cringed as you bent to try and pick up the sharp pieces, but of course, as a ringing sounded across the room, you gasped and lost your focus, cutting your finger on the glass.

A stinging pain shot through you and you winced loudly, stumbling backward while trying hard not to look at the blood.

This really wasn't the time to be fainting.

Your phone was still annoyingly ringing.

"What?" you picked up without bothering to look

"I'm sorry is this a bad time?" what sounded like a confused male's voice spoke through the phone.

"Richard?" you frowned as you realized it was an unknown number "I'm sorry who's this?"

"I'm Joel, Joel Miller, from the contracting company" he paused "Your husband gave me your number"

"oh" you breathed "I-I'm sorry, he didn't tell me"

"Ma'am if this is a bad time I can call you later"

"no, no please don't worry I just- Now it's fine"

"ok good, your husband has told me you want to do some remodeling?"

"Yeah, we have a big room on the second floor that's unutilized and I'd like to build up a wall and make it into two rooms, perhaps a guest bedroom and bathroom"

He hummed, considering your words "That shouldn't be a problem, I'd like to come to your house one of these days so I can see the space firsthand"

"Yeah sure" You nodded, wrapping a paper towel around your finger once you walked to the kitchen "Would tomorrow be alright?"

"Absolutely, how does 10:30 sound?"

"perfect" you smiled 

"Alright then, if you just give me your address we're gonna be all set"

"of course"

__ __ __

he didn't come home for dinner.

"I'll eat out with some of my colleagues"

That's all he said.

And before you knew it you were heating a frozen pizza in the oven, and watching the sun disappear on the horizon through the kitchen window.

It was good that he stayed out, that's what you kept repeating in your head.

It's good that he's already getting to know his colleagues, and it's good that he's already settling in, it's perfect.

It's what you should be doing.

And yes you would have liked to spend more time with him today, but there's still tomorrow, and the day after that... there's still the rest of your life, one day certainly won't make a difference.

And it's not like you didn't enjoy the quiet, it gave you time to think, to look around the bare walls and ponder what you should fill them with.

A painting there, a mirror there, photos there... it was all coming together in your head.

The house had started to look more like a home, your home.

It was 9 pm by the time you decided to go to bed, it was early for your standards, but you'd had a long day.

He wasn't home yet.

You didn't know what time it was when you heard the front door open, but you were still awake, having tossed and turned hoping to tire yourself out for what felt like an eternity.

"hey" you murmured, once he entered the bedroom

"What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep"

He only nodded, as he started undressing

"So how did it go?"

"well," he said "Everyone seems nice enough"

"I'm glad" you smiled, turning on your side to look at him better "I unboxed everything for the living room today"

"cool," he sighed, hanging his suit and walking into the bathroom.

You laid there, listening to the toilet flush and the sink being shut on and off.

He emerged from the door again and made his way into the bed.

"And the contracting guy called" you continued, as he made himself comfortable "He'll come by tomorrow"

"that's good" he breathed, turning the light off 

"I told him what we wanna do and he said it shouldn't be a problem"

"yeah?" he asked, as you felt him shuffle closer to you

"Yup, he said he's done stuff like that before and he just needs to-" Your words got lost in your throat once you felt his hand travel to your chest.

"Richard?" you murmured, while his mouth moved to your shoulder and slowly up your neck.

The smell of his two hundred dollars aftershave hit your nostrils immediately.

"mh?" he hummed, letting his hand sneak down to find your ass through your shorts.

"Richard... I'm tired" you whimpered

"C'mon baby, you don't have to do anything I'll do all the work"

His hands on you felt inexplicably wrong right at that moment.

"I just-" you tried to slowly shift away from his grip "I've unpacked all day, I don't feel like it"

He emitted an audible groan "Y/n it's been like a month since you've last felt like it"

Your mouth closed as quickly as it had opened.

It was the truth, you hadn't been in the mood for a while now. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know- maybe tomorrow..."

He sighed, pushing himself off of you

"Whatever"

A small gust of air sent a shiver up your spine as he got up.

"where are you going?" you asked, watching his shadow move around the room.

"I'll just watch some tv or something"

"oh- alright," your voice was so small you almost didn't sound like yourself.

He didn't seem to hear you as he closed the door behind him, casting a veil of darkness over the room.

Once again, you were alone.

You turned towards the window, the moon's soft glow split the ocean of blue in the sky, shily lighting the neighborhood.

You felt a knot in your stomach, a sudden urge to cry, but as you watched the wind glide through the leaves and trees and grass, you were able to breathe, breath with each gust, slowly willing your heart to stop racing and your eyes to dry.

There was nothing to cry about.

Everything was good, great, fantastic even.

You had the perfect life.

Everything you had ever dreamed of was right in your grasp.

You just needed time, and everything was gonna work itself out fine.

…

Next chapter

...

(if you’d like to be added to the taglist comment or text me)

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Day 4 | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Idk maybe its kinda fluffish. Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think! :)

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

It was admittedly difficult to sleep that night. Firstly, the couch was just not your choice of  a preferred sleeping spot. Secondly, it was weird having a person sleeping in your bed, especially a person who you didn’t sleep with, and especially especially since that person was Jamie Tartt. 

Which explains why you were up so early, two pans on the stove with breakfast. One with eggs, the other with potatoes frying up. On the counter was the bread, waiting patiently to be cooked in the toaster.

Movement in the bedroom told you that Jamie was awake. Turning from the pans, you threw two slices of bread into the toaster. By the time you had turned back, the door to the bedroom crept open and slow footsteps made their way down the hallway. Rubbing his eyes, Jamie appeared in the open living room. When you looked up at him, you found him still just in his boxers. The two of you stared at each other for a while with similar looks of surprise. You couldn’t say why he was in shock, but for you, it was because of the nakedness. 

“I woke up thinkin’ that I had the strangest dream,” He said slowly, looking around the room with squinted eyes. His back was facing you when he spoke again. “Guess it was not a dream.”

“Not a dream,” You said, scrunching your face. He flopped down on your couch, running his hands up and down his face.

“Drank too much,” He admitted. “My head is fuckin’ killin’ me.”

“Did your clothes evaporate overnight?” You asked him in an unusually high pitched voice. Though you weren’t looking at him, you could sense his eyes jump back towards you. 

“They’re still on the floor, thanks.”

“Well, thank God. I was worried, since you decided not to dress before coming out.” He was trying and failing to hide a smile.

“Fine, fine.” He sauntered back towards the bedroom, and against your better judgement, you looked up from the stove, letting your gaze fall up and down his backside before he disappeared down the hall. 

“We have to be out the door soon, so hurry up!” You called to him, receiving a groan in response. The toast popped out of the toaster suddenly, making you jump. You grabbed a plate and filled it with half the food, setting it down before doing the same with another. When Jamie re-entered the scene, this time fully clothed and with brushed hair, you handed him a plate. 

“Eat fast. I’ll drive us to work.” The sentence felt so weirdly domestic, and you wanted to hate it more than you did.

He nodded, taking a seat at the small dining table and digging in. You sat across from him and did the same. It was a silent meal, but comfortable, as if the two of you had been eating meals together for a long time. Before you knew it, the plates were empty. Jamie stood just as you were about to and grabbed your dish.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” You said, reaching to take them from him, but he waved you off. 

“Please.”

You said nothing more, instead rushing towards the bedroom so you could get ready. From the kitchen, you could hear water running and dishes clanking together, making you freeze. Is he doing the dishes? You finished getting dressed and quickly brushing your hair before walking back out. Jamie was just pulling the gloves off his hands as you came into view. Turning towards you, he looked you up and down, expressionless, before speaking. 

“You good?” He asked. You nodded, a surreal feeling washing over you.

How did your day start like this?

The two of you made your way down to the car park, where you climbed into the driver’s side. The rain was still modestly falling, although it was nowhere near the magnitude it had been the morning prior. Despite turning the car on, you made no move to leave, even after Jamie was in and secured. A few seconds passed before you felt his stare fall on you.

“I think we should start over,” You said, before turning your head to meet his gaze. “We’ve both done things, and continuing to fault the other for the past is counterproductive. I think we should go into today with a clean slate between us.” 

“Dunno,” He said as you came to a stop light. A moment of deja vu hit you as you turned to face him, reminding you of the evening before. When you met his eye, you found him smirking. “I kinda like bein’ mean to ya.” 

“Well, in that case…” You trailed off, the both of you laughing at the exchange. After a second, you tilted your head. “I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends who braid each other’s hair and share their deepest darkest secrets. But at least while I’m around for the next week, we can pretend.”

He lifted a finger at you before saying, “Or two.” You looked at him in confusion.

“Or two what?”

“Weeks.”

“Or two weeks,” You repeated back to him in agreement. 

But you didn’t think it was pretending, at least not for you. It was then that you realised that you were, indeed, starting to like Jamie Tartt as a person. Though he was still stubborn and arrogant, the night before had been a moment of clarity for you. He was just as broken as everyone else, despite his cool exterior. Inside, he was just a young boy, begging for validation and affirmation. But most importantly, he was begging for the love he didn’t receive from his father. Beyond that, the night before had you laughing the hardest that you had in a while. 

The car behind you honked, you cursing under your breath as you drove through the green light that you had, once again, missed.

“I think you’re right,” He finally said. A smile playing at your lips, you glanced over at him. “It’s hard bein’ angry that you’re here.” He paused, and it was then you noticed the water bottle in his lap, which was he messing with the lid of. “You…” A beat passed. “You didn’t turn out to be the villain I’d made you in me head all these years.” 

Something about that made your heart swell.

“You’re not as bad as I made you out to be, either.” You smiled with your face forward. And though you weren’t looking at him, you thought you caught a smile out of the corner of your eye.

“Although,” He added, his voice quiet. You eyed him, waiting patiently. He let out a slight laugh, rubbing his forehead. “You actually do know my deepest, darkest secrets now.” 

Something fluttered in your stomach.

The next thing either of you knew, you were putting the car in park. A few spaces over was Jamie’s car, patiently waiting for him. You pulled his keys out of your purse and handed them.

“I take it you'll need those.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but immediately seemed to backtrack. You studied him. For a man who had been drinking so hard the night before, he seemed like he was in good spirits. Suddenly, he was jumping out of the car. 

“Can’t sit here all day, can we?”

You followed, having another moment of deja vu as the two of you walked in the club together. Despite having worked there for what you could assume was a while, the security guard still appeared overjoyed at the sight of Jamie, and forgot to check your pass. 

It seemed like the entire team was waiting for the pair of you, for once he, then you, entered, a chunk of them circled around like a pack of dogs.

“What happened last night?”

“Did you drive, Jamie? Is your car okay?”

“Did you sleep on the street?”

“Lads, lads, let’s calm down, yeah? A man is still nursin’ a hangover,'' Jamie pushed through them to get to his locker. Once he had broken from the pack, all eyes landed on you. The anxiety in your chest began to creep up.

“I drove him to his place. threw him in bed, and then I went back home, myself,” You explained to them. Over Dani’s shoulder, you could see Jamie look over at you. Holding his gaze for a moment, he nodded at you as if to thank you. You looked back at the others without giving any sort of reply. They all seemed to accept this explanation without further questioning. 

“We are just glad you got home safely,” Sam said, a wide smile that he gave to both you and Jamie. 

“Didn’t seem concerned when you sent the enemy after me, did ya?” Jamie asked, making the others roar out in laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh along with them as you could hear the playfulness in his tone. 

“We were just gonna let what God intended to happen, happen, bruv,” Isaac said to him. 

“Maybe God intended for her to go after you, Jamie!” Dani added. 

Jamie and you exchanged a look before quickly looking away. Your cheeks grew very hot. Jamie awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. 

With immaculate timing, the coaches entered in that moment, saving the both of you from having to come up with a response. You took your place against the wall, although now you allowed yourself to stand a bit closer to Jamie’s locker. 

As they spoke, you took notes. 

“Didya ever think that maybe you’d learn more if you listened than just writing down whatever they say?” Jamie whispered into your ear. His breath was warm against your skin. Ignoring that feeling, you shot him a glare. 

“I don’t need to know how to play football,” You reminded him, glancing at the coaches to make sure they weren’t privy to the two of you talking before going on. “So I don’t need to learn what all this means.” 

“Just tryna help ya sound smart for ya article.”

“Are you saying I sound stupid?”

“You could sound smarter…” 

“And who made you the expert on sounding smart?”

“Meself, obviously.”

“What are your qualifications, footballer?”

“Well-“

“I’m sorry, is this meetin’ interruptin’ you?” Roy’s voice boomed through the room, making the two of you jump.

“Sorry,” Jamie called out, raising his hand in apology. You lowered your head and furiously pretended to be writing notes innocently. Roy’s glare lingered for another few seconds before Beard continued talking. 

When everyone began to head towards the tunnel, you walked towards the entrance to the stands. 

“Oi.” You turned to see Jamie watching you. “Just come out with us. You can stand with the coaches.” When you opened your mouth to counter him, he waved his arm towards himself as a gesture to follow him. “It’ll be easier for you to take your wee notes. Let’s go.” Conceding, you followed him out onto the pitch. 

The rain had stopped, the sky still blanketed with clouds. The players started running their drills. You stood a few feet behind the coaches. Being on the pitch as opposed to the stands did make a difference. It was much easier to hear the coaches, and you could hear the players as well. 

“So,” A voice next to you said. You jumped, damn near throwing your notepad across the field before turning to find Beard next to you, standing in the same exact stance when he had been in front of you just moments before. “A truce was called, then?” After you remembered how to breathe, you nodded. 

“We talked it out, I think.” The two of you looked out in time to see Jamie fold over in laughter over something Isaac said. 

“I haven’t seen him in such high spirits since Ted left,” Beard admitted. The mention of the former head coach brought your thoughts to a screeching halt. You glanced at him for a brief second before turning back to Jamie.

“He hasn’t brought Lasso up at all to me.” 

Beard blew a raspberry, shaking his head. “He was really torn up about it. I don’t think he wanted anyone to know.” He was thoughtful as he continued to watch the footballer kick a ball into the net. “I think he viewed him as a father figure.” You thought back to the conversation from your car, where Jamie told you about his abusive father. The pain in his voice was so clear, along with the hesitation to tell you. 

“He told me a little about his dad,” You said quietly. 

“I’ve never witnessed such behaviour from a parent,” Beard admitted. “Disgusting.” This truly grabbed your attention, making you turn your entire body towards the coach.

“You saw it?” You asked. “You saw his father abuse him?” The expression on Beard’s face became a pained one, the memory clear as day on his face.

“It was at Wembley, when we played Man City,” He explained. “Pops came backstage, clearly sloshed. Wanted to bring his buddies through security to take pictures of the pitch. Jamie said no.” He began to shake his head. “Started calling his own son names, and getting in his face. We had lost, morale was low. Jamie clobbered him right in the nose.” At this, he looked proud. “He deserved more than that, but I’m glad he got what he did get.” 

You felt sick. The breakfast you had worked so hard to make was threatening to make a reappearance all over the rich green grass. 

When Jamie had told you about his dad, you had assumed it had happened a long time ago,  maybe as soon as when he had just started out. Never would you have ever thought that it was happening so recently that Coach Beard, or any of the current members of the team for that matter, would’ve been there to bear witness. 

No wonder your articles hurt him so much. It all made more sense now. He was getting abused two fold.

The second your eyes found Jamie, seeing his smile as he passed the ball to his teammates, you felt a surge of pride towards him. He was a huge jerk for a long time, following in the shadow of his father. But he learned, and he grew. Now he knew kindness and love. 

The transformation was quite magical.

The whistle blew and the players made their way towards the coaches. Jamie stood next to you, eyeing you curious.

“You alright?”

You turned to face him, and it felt like you were seeing him for the first time.

“I’m good.”

He stared at you for a long time, eyes searching your face, before nodding. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned to face the front again. You began taking notes again. It was hard to focus, with the newfound information fighting to be at the forefront of your mind. It felt strange, knowing something so intimate about Jamie that he hadn’t told you. Part of you wondered if you should tell him, but maybe that wasn’t for the best. You weren’t out of the woods yet when it came to your relationship with him, and it wasn’t best to rock the boat further. Maybe after the article you’d-

No. After the article, you’d be back to business as usual. There wouldn’t be any chances to talk to him about anything, really. You’d be off the pitch and back in your office. He’d continue to play football and be Jamie. And it would be like none of this ever happened.

Why the fuck is this making me so sad? You asked yourself.

Pulling you from your thoughts was Jamie bumping his hip against yours. You jumped slightly, before turning to look at him. His face was filled with amusement.

“Sorry, Jumpy,” He said with a voice filled with laughter. “I was thinkin’ we could have a chat after practice, if ya want.” You shook your head with more force than you intended.

“Yeah, that would be great!” There must’ve been something off about your tone, for he knitted his eyebrows together, his head tilting slightly.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Inhaling slowly, you nodded again. This time with more ease.

“I’m fine, Tartt.” At first, he seemed shocked that you were back to calling him by his last name, but the smile you gave seemed to placate him, as he returned it almost as quick. 

When practice was over, and the field had been cleared out, it was just Jamie and yourself who remained. You sat in the grass, running your fingers across the even cut blades. Jamie was standing, and was moving around as if he wasn’t able to stop.

“Do you ever relax?” You asked him, your phone already set to record. He paused at this, raising his hands in question.

“I’m always relaxed.”

“That’s definitely not true.” He scoffed, but you continued. “What do you do to unwind?” This made him stop, genuine thought on his face.

“I dunno,” He admitted. “I like havin’ a pint with friends. Layin’ on me couch sometimes.” When his eyes found you again, he found your face scrunched up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m gonna make that the headline,” You said as you raised your hands and wrote a line in the air in front of you. “‘Jamie Tart: He Also Drinks Beer and Lays On The Couch.’” He laughed.

“Fuck off.” Shaking your head, you looked around at the field.

“If you could talk to any deceased person for 30 seconds, who would it be and what would you say?”

The next words out of his mouth hit you like a train. In the most earnest voice, he said, “I’d talk to George Harrison, and tell him thank ya for inspirin’ me to live my life.”

The recording was instantly turned off, as it was ruined by the way you were laughing. Jamie looked scandalised as you fell backwards into the grass.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“Didn’t you only just find out about George Harrison dying?”

“I didn’t know!” He shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Can’t know everything all the time, can I?” As you came down from your laughter, wiping a tear from your eye, you shook your hand.

“No, you can’t.”

He started moving around again, and you watched him. Recalling the conversation from earlier with Beard, you bit your lip.

“What about living?”

He paused.

“What?”

You inhaled sharply. “If you could say whatever you wanted to any living person, with no consequences, what would you say?” 

This made him really freeze, his eyebrows properly knitted together. After a moment of silence, he took a few steps forward and sat down just a few feet from you. Elbows on his knees, he rested his chin in his palms.

“I’d ask my dad why I wasn’t enough to keep ‘im sober.” All traces of humour left your face. He nodded before continuing, “I’d tell him I needed him to treat me as more than a punchin’ bag.” Another beat passed. “And then I’d thank him. I’m the man I am today in spite of him. And I’m proud of that.” 

He was staring at his hands right then. You smiled at him.

“You should be.” 

His head jumped upward, eyes falling on you once more. Your smile was more broad this time, as you leaned forward a little.

“Yeah?” He asked, as if his opinion was hanging by the thread of your answer. 

You nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

[funnyexel]

Back For More - Miguel O’Hara x Black Female Reader

The sizzle of eggs frying in the pan echo throughout your kitchen. Practically rushing as you fry it on a low heat, moving back and forth between the kitchen and your room. Hoping it doesn’t burn. Placing a dress against your chest, you move your shoulders from left to right. Briefly imagining yourself wearing the clothing. Placing the perfect sundress on the bed, you check the time, running into the kitchen taking your eggs off the stove once and for all.

“Oh shit.” You sigh, seeing your eggs are dancing on the edges of well done and burnt.

Shrugging and eating it anyway, a tingling feeling glides up your back. Now that you’ve given it the time of day, you shiver at the thought. Ignoring it, knowing that you have somewhere important to be in less than an hour. Throwing the empty plate in the trash, you go to your room. Glancing towards your window for a moment, purposely leaving the blinds cracked as you take off your top. Breasts moving freely as you stride to the bathroom for a quick shower. Taking off your shorts and panties at the same time. Shower cap sitting comfortably on your head as you wash off the heat of the stares. The water moving irregularly each time your mind revisits you being watched. Although eyes aren’t on you at the moment, thankfully. Once you step out the comfort of your own bathroom, you feel dilated pupils drinking in your wet, dripping form.

Dropping the towel on the floor once you’ve dried your skin, you put on your skimpy underwear. Struggling to latch your strapless bra. You check your phone when you succeed. Cursing yourself at the fact you’ll be late for brunch. Rushing through your makeup routine and hairstyle, you still manage to look flawless as you slip on your flowery sundress. The noodled strap dress hugging your curves, plumping out your boobs and butt. All the while staying slightly modest with the length that went all the way to your ankles. Looking around for your sandals as you spray loads of perfume on your body, your head jerks towards the window. A shuffle heard close, almost like someone tripped on something. Brushing it off, you slip on your sandals and grab your purse. The main thing on your mind in the moment being, which route will get you to the restaurant the fastest.

Coming back to your humble abode three hours later, you drop your bag on the side table by the front door and huff. Smiling to yourself at the new memories you just made with your friends. Stumbling in the slightest as you make it to the kitchen for a glass of water, it presents itself to you. The water filled cup resting in your hand as if someone handed it to you. Gulping down the water, you roll your neck and shoulders. The feeling of being watched appearing again.

“Can we just talk.” You exclaim closing your eyes momentarily then opening them. “One conversation.” You slur.

When met with silence, you look out your window, the abandoned building across from you being empty to your glance. Shaking your head, you watch as your window opens for itself, unlocking its mechanism and sliding up, letting a stiff figure through the small space. Hovering over to you in a slow manner.

“I know you can hear me.” You point to the man, his feet connecting with the floor as he gains control over his limbs.

“If you have the guts to watch me you should have the same to talk to me.” You put your hands on your hips, looking up to this built man.

“I wasn’t watching you.” He sternly says, grabbing the top of his mask and yanking it off his head. “I was looking over you.”

“You really think I’d be in danger.” You plainly say, not amused. The water moving through your body is turning into irritation by each passing moment.

“First you wanna move out and now you wanna stalk me. The least you could do for me is answer one question.” You state, watching as he puts his mask aside on the granite counter.

“We aren’t getting back together. There, answered.” He moves his roughed up hair out his face and turns to leave.

“That’s not what I meant.” You grit your teeth, his body immediately going stiff and turning back to you unwillingly. The fluids in his body granting you complete control over him.

“What do you mean, hm? I’m trying to do my best. What do you want from me!” He raises his voice, looking down to you from his elevated position.

“DO NOT YELL IN THIS APARTMENT I PAY FOR!” You snap back.

“I’m sorry.” He hesitates his words, looking over you curiously.

“What did I do to you? Huh? Is it because of how I am now..? Because I can control it.” You plead, sobriety washing over you. And you immediately let him down.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” You ask, hands on your hips waiting for a response. Letting out a strong exhale, he takes a slow step towards you. Holding your hands weakly and moving his hands up your arms to hold you by the shoulders.

“We can’t get back together.” He says to you, leaning in and practically seducing you with how low his voice is.

“why not.” You whisper, swallowing thickly, “You refuse to tell me why…please.” You beg, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a small pout tugging at your lips.

“Stop that.” He defensively says, watching how the water builds up at the burrier of your eyes. Opening his mouth to say more but being at a lost of words. Blinking the innocent tears out your eyes, to which start the waterworks.

“Stop crying.” He utters, all resistance breaking at your vulnerability.

“hey,” you hear him as you weakly wipe the oasis of tears on each cheek, “look at me cariño.” He says, almost sweetly, his voice still having that rugged nature to it.

His bloodshot eyes capture you, not finding it in yourself to look away as he leans in. A burning sensation moving from your chest to your arms, legs and traveling up to your cheeks. Him kissing your right cheek, inhaling your scent all the while your mind is in overdrive with the amount of physical contact. Taking you a moment to release he’s resorted to licking away your tears, his sharp fangs brushing against the soft flesh of your tinted cheek. Watching him from the corner of your eye, he entraps you once more, using his index finger to turn your chin to him. Closing your eyes, your scared of what you know he’ll do.

Smashing your lips in a frenzy of heat and want, you hum into the kiss. Your fright leaving you once your hands reach up into his hair. The fluffy feel pleasant to your fingertips as you massage his scalp. His hands roaming freely down your waist, over your ass and squeezing your plush thighs. Breathing in each-others faces as you move your head from side to side in order to match up with his rapid movements. Breaking away from each other, you look at one another, inhaling and exhaling heavily. Reaching his hand behind your back, he unzips your dress and watches as you slip the straps off your shoulders. The dress tumbling into a pool of lively fabric on the floor.

Spinning your body around, he pushes you towards the counter, prompting you to lean on it. Ass perking up as he plays with the hem of your panties, lifting up the elastic and letting go harshly. The snaps and jolts from your body forcing him to smirk. Waiting patiently for him to make a move, you spread your legs more when his foot taps your ankle. Holding your breath when his finger grazes your pussy lips while pulling back the sticky fabric. Focusing your eyes on the bricked pattern on your kitchen back splash you fight to hold back a scream when he licks your clit. Parting your soaked lips with his tongue. Going as far as teasing your aching hole with a teethy kiss. A hot moan leaving your throat when his sharpened teeth brush against your heat. Using his whole mouth to engulf your pussy in his burning saliva, his tongue to play with your hole.

Feeling how you squish him tightly at his moments. Your mules and shrieks transitioning into a full on scream when his thumb rubs circles on your clit. Guiding you through your first orgasm and abusing your tired core with his quick licks and passionate kisses. Giving your pussy one last kiss he stands up. Looking over your shoulder dazed, he’s naked and sliding your underwear down your legs. Slouched back straightening at the sudden pushing of his dick forcing its way in your shuttering hole. You claw at the granite, running your fingers though your braids and tugging at the roots. Battling another scream when he pushes more, his hips fitting against the round of your ass perfectly. Moving your hips a bit you quickly get used to his abnormal size. The veins that pump through this hot blooded man, shifting along your mushy walls and sending shivering sensations through your stomach.

Snapping his hips into you, he huffs. Understanding how tight you are with every moment he makes. Pulling up to his pink tip and slamming right into your small hole. A mix of grunt and moan coming out your mouth, causing you to rise up off the surface. Doing short yet powerful thrusts, he holds the back of your throat, squeezing on the sides and lowering you back on the counter. Leaning over your body so he could press your face onto the cold material with his hand on your cheek. You view now being the front door and Miguels fit body. His six pack flexing with each slam of his hips into yours. Crossing your legs at the ankles, your pussy pulses more under his gaze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second. At the heavenly feeling of you milking him.

“hm…hah..miguel please.” You plead, unsure of what you’re asking for in particular.

A feeling of estasy and euphoria washing over you as you whine loudly. Left leg shaking under you as you uncross your ankles and try to keep yourself from falling. Miguel leaning down on top of you, swallowing air as if he was holding his breath. Grabbing your waist when he feels you lose your footing under him. Deeply chuckling at your weaken legs, he lifts you off the counter and into his arms bridal style. Moving you to the couch he throws you onto the cushions. Your leg shaking as you sit up from your odd laying position. Pushing you in your chest, right below your collar bone your bare back hits the icy fabric.

“Quédate abajo,” He breathes chest heaving up and down, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He mutters, moving your legs to surround his hips and digging his knees into the couch. Once he’s situated, leaning forward over you and snaking his hand onto your neck. Loosely holding the flesh as he looks over your body to make sure you’re fine.

“You wanted to cry your way into my pants, hm? Pequeña zorra.” You nod to the best of your ability as he shakes you. Your mind not processing the language switch.

His one palm hiding your neck entirely, holding you in place as he slaps your sensitive pussy with his cock, and sliding it inside you. Grinding into you, his tip kisses your cervix and he pulls out, head tilting back for a moment as he sighs. Looking down again, he aligns himself up and snaps his hips back into you. A whine leaving your lips. His crimson eyes burning into yours and keeping your attention.

“keep makin’ those dumb noises…you dumb girl.” He huffs, croaking out a soft moan as you squeeze him tightly.

“oh fuck cariño, fuck, fuck!” He recites, pounding into you with each breath shattering stroke. Your gasps bringing him pleasure, your shaky legs giving a huge stroke to his ego.

“m-more…oh-“ You stutter shamefully, his hips speeding up, chasing his high as he bites his lip drawing blood.

Focusing your blurry vision on his blood dripping onto your stomach. But he doesn’t care, all you see is a man in heat. Chasing his own release as he uses you, seeing you as nothing more than his dumb play thing, a simple cock sleeve. And he gets what he wants. A steaming hot fluid flowing through your gummy walls as he continues to grind his hips into you. His elbows on either side of your head as he catches his breath above you. Your hands sneaking to his muscled shoulders, a small smile creeping to your lips as you rub and massage the tuff flesh. Right when you think he’ll collapse right next to you, he jumps up. Pulling you into his lap, his cum traveling down your womb and leaking out of your plugged pussy.

“You wanted this, remember?” He whispers against your cheek, getting no other response from you than a throaty moan.

A/n: Isn’t this man so fucking fine omg. When I saw him at the early release I swooned, even though he was trifling, he’s still so damn hot.

more of my stories

[celandeline]

If You Never Shoot, You Never Know

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 1 [previous part | next part]

All you want to do is eat. 

You’re almost dead on your feet, exhausted after a day-long supply run with Daryl. For all your trouble, it had turned into a bit of a shitshow in the end, really, how were either of you supposed to know that there had been two dozen walkers in the basement? But you’re alive, and you’re back behind the walls of Alexandria, and Rick had seemed grateful for what supplies you had managed to scrounge up. So you feel entitled to treating yourself to grilled cheese. 

You relax back against the island of your kitchen as you flip on the stove, dropping some butter in your frying pan to begin to melt. The delicious smell of frying butter begins to fill the room, and you close your eyes, savoring the scent. God, you’re starving. 

A knock at your door interrupts the pleasant, buttery thoughts in your head, and you groan, trudging out of the kitchen. You already know who it is - no doubt the moment he saw you get home, he started over…

You whip open the door and lean against the frame, looking down at the boy on your porch. “What?”

Carl Grimes, with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist, smiles at you. “Brought you flowers.” He says, holding them out to you. 

He’s been doing this for months now. Purposefully volunteering for work that he knows you’re doing, making up any excuse to spend time at your house, going out of his way to bring you things - your favorite snacks, a ring with your favorite color stone in it, a shirt for a band that you like, now also flowers. It’s cute, this little crush he has on you. But turning him down is getting a little tedious. 

You sigh. “Carl, we’ve got to stop doing this.” Still, you hold your hand out for the flowers. 

“Dunno what you mean.” He says even though he definitely does. He hands you the bouquet. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate for a minute, examining the flowers he’d brought. All pretty, all in shades of your favorite color. “Your dad know where you are? Or is he gonna come busting down my door looking for you again?”

His cheeks redden as you reference the worst afternoon of both of your lives. “I told him.”

“Sure then.” You say, holding the door open so that he can slip inside. “‘M making dinner if you’re hungry. Grilled cheese.”

“If you don’t mind.” He says, wiping his boots on your rug before stepping inside. Always the gentleman. 

You look at him, exasperated. “When have I ever minded?” You ask, shutting the door and heading back into the kitchen, flowers in hand. 

“Just trying to be polite.” He says, following after you. 

You set the bouquet of flowers down on the island before turning back to your pan, dropping four slices of bread into the bubbling butter to begin frying. Carl makes himself comfortable on one of your barstools, watching as you pull a tall cracked glass out of one of your cabinets and fill it with water before dropping the flowers in. You set the makeshift vase in the center of the island with a smile. “Thanks.” You say. “They’re pretty.”

He grins. “They made me think of you.” He says. “Thought you might like them.”

You say nothing, ignoring how his little flirtatious comment makes you feel and instead focusing on the sandwiches. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that of sizzling butter as you flip the slices of bread, until Carl speaks again. 

“How was your day?” He asks. 

“Alright.” You sigh. “Not as good as it could’ve been, but there’s always tomorrow. Now that Daryl and I know what we’re getting into, it should be easier to handle. And we can always bring more people with us.”

“I could come.” He offers immediately. 

You shake your head. “You’ve got your own jobs. Plus,” You joke. “I don’t need you distracting me while I’m trying to kick walker ass.”

He tilts his head, a little smirk at the corner of his lips. “Do I distract you?”

“You wish.” You say.

“I do.” He shoots back, unashamed. 

It’s annoying, how good he is at this. Makes it all the harder to keep reminding yourself why you can’t just give in to his advances. You’re three years older than him - which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t freshly eighteen, but he is. And you’re already on Rick’s shit list when it comes to Carl - he’d almost throttled you when he found out Carl had asked you to sneak him some alcohol the next time you went on a run. He’d been furious, that day he was pounding on your door demanding to know where his son was - said he didn’t want him hanging around you, that you were ‘corrupting’ him. You can’t imagine what he’d do to you if you actually were to corrupt his boy, as he’d put it. 

“Carl.” You sigh, flipping the bread again, making sure all the sides are a delicious golden brown. 

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know.”

And he does know - you’ve talked about it a lot, why this could never work. But the logic doesn’t seem to have deterred him at all. 

“You’ve gotta drop it.” You say, folding some slices of cheese into the bread, two fully formed sandwiches sliding around the buttery pan now. You have to swallow to stop your mouth from watering. 

“But you like it.” He says. 

You roll your eyes. 

“C’mon, you do.” He says, grinning as he gestures to the bouquet on display. “You would’ve actually told me to fuck off if you didn’t.” His icy blue eyes find yours. “If you tell me to fuck off, I will, you know that.”

You do know. But selfishly, you don’t want to tell him to go, even though you should. It’s silly to keep doing this when Rick will never ever let it happen, but he’s wormed his way into your affections. You like him. He’s sweet, and funny, and a great shot, and has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And you like that he likes you, for whatever reason. 

You scoop the sandwiches out of the pan and onto a plate before flipping the stove off. Coming around the island, you slide onto the barstool next to him, placing the plate between the two of you. You don’t bother waiting for him before you grab one for yourself, digging in. You swallow with a satisfied sigh. “God, I was starving.”

Carl bites into his own sandwich with a smile. “Thanks.” He says around a mouthful. “‘S good.”

“Welcome.” You say around another mouthful.

The kitchen is largely silent as you and Carl eat, until there’s nothing but crumbs left on the plate. Your stomach no longer threatening to start devouring your insides, you sink into the barstool, the exhaustion from your run finally catching up to you. You sigh, contentedly, and Carl smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, his voice taking on that nervous tone that means he’s going to ask some mushy romantic stuff. 

Even though you shouldn’t keep entertaining this, you say, “Sure.”

His gaze set on the marble countertop, he idly rolls a crumb between two fingers, contemplative. “If my dad wasn’t in the equation, would you let me date you?” His eyes shift under his hat, glancing quickly over to you. 

You should say no, even if it’s not the truth. If Rick wasn’t part of the equation - or even if you were in his good graces - you’d let Carl date you. Of course you would. But that’s not how things are - as is, Rick would mount your head on a spike. You should say no. But when those icy blue eyes are boring into your soul, it’s hard to be dishonest. “Yeah.” You say, playing it off with a shrug. “Seems like the only way to get you to stop pestering me with flowers and whatnot.”

Carl grins, the kind of smile that only comes from getting exactly what you want. “Follow up question,” He starts, grin turning mischievous. “If we just didn’t tell my dad anything, would you-”

“Absolutely not, no.” You laugh. “You want to fool around in secret? That would make everything a thousand times worse, what are you thinking? If Rick ever found out-”

Carl turns in his seat to face you, sliding a hand across the marble countertop to interlace his fingers with yours. “Please.” He says. “You already said that if getting in trouble with my dad wasn’t a problem you’d be okay with us being a thing. If he never finds out, what’s the problem?”

You shove down the feeling that shoots through you when he laces his fingers together with yours. “I’m still older than you. You’re barely an adult, I mean, have you ever even had a girlfriend before?”

His cheeks redden. “No.”

“I can’t be the first. I can’t set the standard for all of your relationships after this one. You should date someone your own age, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls around here that have crushes on you-”

“I don’t want to date someone my own age.” Carl says. “The people my age here have been sheltered in Alexandria almost their whole lives. They don’t know what it’s like outside these walls. Talking to them feels like talking to middle schoolers.” He squeezes your hand. “But you know what it’s like out there, you’re out there with the groups going on supply runs all the time. You know how to defend yourself, and you’re not afraid of the walkers. I can actually talk to you about that stuff. And if anything were to ever happen, if walkers were to get in the walls again, I know you’d be able to take care of yourself.”

The way he looks at you with such admiration makes your heart do a funny flip in your chest. “You make this very hard, you know.” You tease, trying to ignore the urge to kiss him. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” He says. “I don’t care that my dad thinks you’re a bad influence, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re strong, and you’re pretty, and you’re the funniest person I know. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

You tilt your head and sigh, squeezing his hand back. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You say. “But unfortunately it does. Your dad calls the shots around here, and it’s bad enough that he already doesn’t like me. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“What if I talk to him?” Carl asks. “It’s not really your fault that he doesn’t like you, I’m the one who asked you to sneak me alcohol, I could explain-”

“It’s already a done deal.” You say. “And I don’t blame Rick for being pissed with me for that, I should have had the wherewithal to tell you no.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you didn’t.” He says. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” You say. Your gaze shifts to the window above the sink, the orange sun sinking below the horizon outside. “You should probably go home. It’s getting dark.”

Carl’s gaze follows yours, and he sighs. “Probably should.” He agrees sullenly. Slowly, he rises from his seat. “Thanks for the grilled cheese. And for talking to me.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime.” You say, standing up from your seat as well, despite your protesting muscles. 

You walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps out onto the porch. He turns back to look at you, that mischievous glint in his eye again. “Can I do something?” He asks, voice low. 

“Do what?” You shoot back, skeptical. 

He doesn’t answer, instead just stepping closer to you, his eye darting down to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. He approaches slow, giving you plenty of time to back away if you want to, but you don’t even though you should. The image of Rick standing on his porch across the street flares in your mind, but you still don’t pull away, and let Carl’s lips meet yours in a tender embrace. 

This kiss only lasts for a short moment before he’s pulling back, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “G’night.” He says.

“Night.” You return, stepping back through the threshold of your doorway before you do something stupid like kiss him again. You watch him retreat down your porch steps, catching the last grin he throws over his shoulder before he darts across the street, back home. 

Closing your door, you sigh hopelessly into the silence of your home. He’s going to be the death of you, one way or another.

[ms-demeanor]

my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

[sanjiscigarettes]

Op men when you stop giving them attention randomly

fandom: One piece.

Characters: monkey.d.luffy, roronoa Zoro, vinsmoke Sanji. Fem reader in mind

Monkey.D.luffy:

Bro how are you even going to ignore luffy. You have to keep eyes on him. Lift an eye to another sight for 3 milliseconds and the next thing you know he is wrestling a gorilla.

He Whines alot.

get ready to get gomu gomu no-ed to his chest-

he'd pick a fight with any strawhat to grab your attention. (You don't cheer, you just help poor chopper after the fight)

He likes clinging and hugging you while whining which HE DEFF WOULD CUZ HE HAS AN IQ OF A TODDLER (which is cute). (a/n maybe the IQ the size of a germ)

"so in the next Island, THERE IS A ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET. FULL OF MEAT!! what do you say y/n? We should definitely go sometime! You, me, Zoro, Ussop, nami-" he paused as he realized you weren't paying attention. You were across the room talking to robin.

The next thing you were about to hear was something that made your heart jump out. "GOMU GOMU NOOO" his hand placed on your shoulder. You gulped. Everyone fell quiet. Next thing you know Zoro starts praying to jesus even though he's an atheist, (wow Luffy changing religion rn) "wait LUFFY NO PLS-" "Y/N CHWANN!!!" Sanji exclaimed. "ROCKETT" "LUFFY YOU LITTLE SHIT-" Zoro yelled, you were on the floor. Luffy was on top of your back. "Luffy- mph- why?"

"because you left me outt!!!"

"I would like to have a conversation with Luffy" Nami said

Next thing you know he comes back with a red head and Botox lips.

Roronoa zoro:

Bro is the one ghosting you most of the time.

However if he somehow has a change of heart. And you start ignoring him, the change of heart will change.

He will DRAG YOUR ASS, NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE.

"which one should I get?" Zoro asked you, pointing at the three swords.

You simply ignored. "Y/n, which.one.should.i.get."

You continued to ignore him. next thing yk, he pins you somewhere behind the store. "I know damn well you heard me. Why are you ignoring me-"

You just keep silence.

"fine, I'll make you talk.."

..

He slapped the shit out of you btw, it was one slap but it was pain. "OWHHH, WHAT WAS THAT FOR???"

"for ignoring me woman. Now let's go back to the store"

Sanji didn't let this slide, he saw the slap and he fought Zoro for the entire day.

Vinsmoke sanji:

Poor dude. Bean

He'd think that he upset you :"(

probably be concerned at first.

(One time it happened that you zoned out, and he accidently hit your face with a frying pan. He apologized so much.) He might think that's the reason. (It happened two years ago btw)

he will make you COMFORT FOOD

"Y/NNNNNN-CHWANN YOU WANNA HELP ME BAKE TODAYY??" He remembered today, you promised to help him bake a cake, he was all jumpg and excited, so you felt kinda guilty to ignore him.

"y/n-chwan?" He asked. you just kept ignoring.

He paces around the room, trying to remember if he upset you. Suddenly he had those flashbacks, the frying pan incident.

next thing you know you come in. And there's you fav food, with a note. Saying that he's so sorry about the frying pan incident.

"Ji that was two years ag-"

"I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW. BUT I FIGURED YOU'RE MAD AT ME AND THATS WHY YOUR IGNORING ME IM SO SORRY YNN CHWAN I DONT MEAN TOooOo" he starts bowing down and crying. You hug him saying that you're really sorry (YOUR A MONSTER :" [ )

[sleeplesssmoll]

Reverse 1999 HCs: The Kitchen

I mentioned these in passing, but I finally added them in post with more detail. Feel free to add your HCs to the buffet! Word count is 960ish so you know what you're getting into if you continue down this path of madness.

Apple tends to stay out of the kitchen unless he's looking for wine. He doesn't want to be mistaken for a tasty snack.

Regulus is banned from the kitchen but barges in anyway as the "official taste tester". She also steals from people's plates if they're left unguarded, unless it's Sotheby's. She is an exception. Vertin gets the worst of it where Regulus might lean over her shoulder and chomp down on her spoonful of food. This is the tax for sharing her premium snacks with Vertin.

As for the snack sharing, one time Regulus caught Vertin eating uncooked noodles with the seasoning packet sprinkled on top like chips as a snack. Ever since then, she gave Vertin free access to the stash of snacks in her room. There's always potato chips and Dr. Papper available to her friend.

Vertin stills occasionally eats noodles like chips because Madam Z used to do it when they were traveling together. When Smoltin caught her red-handed, Madam Z advised her not to be like her and to eat her celery sticks instead. They both knew that wasn't going to happen.

Sotheby is allowed use the kitchen with supervision. There needs to be someone there to give their opinion on her creative choices (stop her from accidentally poisoning someone).

Druvis is the head chef and Sonetto is her apprentice that does everything by the book due to her upbringing in the Foundation. For example, if they don't have the right ingredients, Sonetto believes they can't make the dish anymore. However, Druvis will teach her how to substitute things and improvise.

Sonetto is a great cook, but she operates like a robot that needs to be updated with new ideas from a programmer. All the knowledge is there, but she struggle to make her own conclusions. (This is something we see her struggle with in game but I applied it to cooking lol)

The Horror Trio have no interest in cooking, only eating. Although, Jessica and her Critter friends harvest things from the garden so Druvis can supervise/mentor in the kitchen.

Vertin can't cook per say, but she can throw together very basic meals a child could do (eggs, bacon, toast, grilled cheese, simple stuff). However, her specialty is eggs. She can cook an egg in every way possible thanks to Madam Z. The scientist told her if she learns to cook anything, let it be an egg. They're easy to cook, versatile, and a good source of protein. This is an HC but I can hear her explaining egg supremacy to Vertin. Fun fact: Eggs are a staple food in China and many Asian countries. Eat an egg for Madam Z everyone.

Vertin's also handy with a knife since it's all about technique and she's good with her hands. Before her crew, she probably ate a lot of sandwiches, Foundation MREs, and instant food (with eggs on the side).

However, one day Druvis witnessed hot bacon grease pitch onto Vertin's arm. Vertin flinched at first but continued flipping her bacon, saying, "It happens sometimes." Druvis damn near threw Vertin in the sink in her rush to run cold water over it. They didn't notice how serious Vertin's disregard for injuries were due to the lack of scars and reactions from her. Vertin doesn’t understand since it'll go away with a healing potion. This breaks Druvis's heart because even if it's healed, Vertin's putting herself through unnecessary pain since she's used to getting hurt.

That was the last time Vertin was allowed to touch a frying pan (rip her beloved eggs as collateral), but they still let her use the knife since she's adept with it. Also Vertin wants to help them because it's a way for her to spend more time with them. They couldn't chase her away after she admitted that.

There is another advantage to letting the Timekeeper help sometimes; Vertin's the only one who doesn't cry rivers when she cuts an onion. Sonetto and Sotheby are a mess when they try. Pupnetto has a sensitive nose and Sotheby is baby. Druvis keeps her deadpan face but tears will prick at her eyes.

Vertin didn't always eat her veggies as a kid and Madam Z wasn't sure how to make her eat them. It's actually Tooth Fairy who found a way to make fruits and veggies fun. Vertin now does the same for her Suitcase Family.

Imagine an elegant, celebratory dinner set up by Druvis, Sonetto, and Sotheby after a particularly tough mission. What did Vertin contribute with her knife? Sandwiches? Salads? Nope. It's this:

Fruits and veggies decorated as little critters! It's how Tooth Fairy advised Madam Z to prepare them so Smoltin would eat them. As a kid she loved it. Vertin is creative so there are many variations (she's the opposite of Sonetto who's highly skilled but lacks creativity).

They're a hit with her crew too. Even Blonney, who normally acts like a moody teenager when it comes to her true feelings, finds them adorable. After seeing the way Jessica's eyes lit up from the little display, she was inspired to try and learn too. In secret, of course.

Horropedia said they were neat, but listed a terrifying bunch of ideas for Vertin's next fruit/veggie display: monsters, eyeball, tentacles, severed fingers, a dipping sauce that looks like slime or blood...

Bonus:

Regulus: Vertin! What are you doing?

Vertin: I'm making cheese toasties (grilled cheese). Don't worry, there's no way I can burn myself.

Regulus: You're dealing with hot melted cheese. On a scale of 1 to 10, how angry do you think Sonetto and Druvis would be if I called them right now?

Vertin: ...Would you like one too?

Regulus: Cut diagonally, no crust. Thanks ❤️

[kairi-th]

💖❤️Sanji head cannons❤️💖

You and your boyfriend loved to cook together on the sunny but one day your mind got clouded by your urge to prank him so you hid certain objects in the kitchen and relocating some to make him think he was going mad

And the following morning there was cursing and banging of pans so you went to investigate seeing your boyfriend frantically searching “ WHO STEALS A FRYING PAN A STRAINER AND A SPATULA “ he yelled opening a door “ where the fuck are the plates??? “ you bursted into laughter as he stared confused clearly frustrated as you revealed the missing items in a large box Nami usually used for tools

He was at first relieved he wasn’t insane but it grew into a big smile because he knew how to do the same to you he knew how much you adored your perfect set up for your make up you keep it organized to the dot organizing it by colors and sizes he admired your passion for it like he had for cooking

He waited a few weeks to pass and since you were out with Luffy helping him not eat ingredients he had plenty of time he almost felt bad for tampering with it. It was so nice to look at with the coloring dancing on the table he picked up a few of your favorite lipsticks pocketing them and hid your lavender perfume

When I say hell broke out I truly mean it you literally were ready to brawl with everyone on the ship it got to the point you nearly pushed nami off the ship before you saw your boyfriend hold up the items as your face went pale “ oh my god he reversed pranked me for the kitchen.. “

You felt so embarrassed as he spoke softly “ y/n we both felt like fools im just proving a point we all have things we love to be perfect as we are to each other my love.. let’s promise not to touch the others things “ After that you both partaked in each others interests obviously locking the door so zoro didn’t see Sanji getting make up on him he still kinda has flashbacks

[slytherinshua]

SMITTEN

genre. fluff. warnings. kisses. pairing. joshua x reader. wc. 635. a/n. i'm struggling with writer's block just a little bit, but hopefully i can still write and post regularly.

"Good morning..." You heard a soft, tired whisper into your ear while strong arms encircled your waist. You smiled as Joshua sighed in comfort, enjoying the hug and the warm cinnamon smell that came from the frying pan.

“How late did you get back?”

“Like… 3 am.” He said, eyes closed and head resting on your back.

“I’m making french toast.”

“So I smell.” He smiled.

“Maybe it’ll wake you up more.” You said, flipping the bread to see the beautiful golden brown colour on the other side.

“Maybe… I’m still half asleep right now.”

“You could go back to sleep if you want. You don’t have anything scheduled today.”

“But the bed is cold without you.” He whined, hugging you tighter.

You hummed, “That seems like a grievous issue… What about breakfast in bed instead? With me there, of course. Wouldn’t want to let my baby get cold.” You said. He nodded in agreement, but refused to leave the hug which made you giggle. 

“Are you going to keep clinging to me until I finish making breakfast?”

“If you let me.”

“You’re cute.” The comment made him smile, and you were completely enraptured by his sweet, sleepy state.

You finished frying the last 2 pieces of french toast, trying to manoeuvre around the kitchen to get plates and forks with Joshua still refusing to leave the hug. But you knocked him off eventually with the promise to take the food to your bed if he just let you prepare it without breaking something.

When you came into your bedroom with the food, you realised Joshua had changed his clothes. He was now wearing a pyjama set that matched yours and you giggled. Whenever he was this adorable, it took you by surprise.

“Here’s your toast, cutie.” You smiled, sitting next to him on the bed and placing the tray down.

“You’re amazing, Y/n.” He said, a smile blossoming on his face. “I love you.”

You turned to him, those 3 words still making your heart flutter even though you had said them countless times.

“I love you more.” You offered, giggling at the offended expression that Joshua gave you.

“You can’t possibly love me more than I love you.”

You shrugged, “Tough luck. That’s just how-” You suddenly felt his lips against yours, stopping you from finishing your thought. Blush spread on your cheeks from the action. Even after 4 years, Joshua Hong still had the same effect on you.

“I was just suddenly reminded of our first kiss, so I thought I would make it more obvious.” He said, fighting back a smile and starting to eat his french toast.

“But when we had our first kiss, we were fighting.”

“Were we not fighting just now?” Joshua asked teasingly. 

“It wasn’t the same at all.” You defended.

“It was, because I kissed you to stop you from talking back then too.” He explained, “Back then… If I had let you continue what you were saying, you would’ve won that argument easily cause you’re smarter than me. So I thought ‘What can I do to make her stop talking?’ and then I kissed you.” He laughed.

Your jaw fell a little upon hearing this for the first time, “That was the reason?” You asked in disbelief.

He nodded, “Just to shut you up. It was totally similar to what just happened.”

“I never really thought about why you kissed me that first time… I was too fixated on the fact that you actually kissed me.” 

“Really?”

You hummed, “I was so smitten by you back then, I thought you would only kiss me in my dreams.”

“Are you not still smitten by me now?” He asked, pouting.

You leaned in to kiss him again, “I’m still smitten by you. Always.”

He smiled, “Good.”

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