#anyway when someone tells me my tastes didn’t age well

[siflshonen]

Woke up today grateful to know that my favorite character is still seen by many as the most annoying blorbo in the universe to have

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[moominsuki]

✎ᝰ BAKUGOU KATSUKI ; — anyone would be silly not to love you, katsuki.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader, no warnings. so fluffy it’s sickeningly sweet.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether.

from a young age, he never really cared about what others thought about him. he wasn’t interested in friends, tolerated his family and he didn’t care for women at all. and at 16, he deemed this to be a perfect way to live.

well, now he was 22. who knew that loneliness would hit him in tumultuous spouts of self loathing and bitterness? not him, that’s for sure. he sees his friends getting into relationships and while he’s thankful that they always include him in things despite his brash attitude and sharp tongue, there’s an embittered taste on his tongue that lingers when he sees kirishima and his girlfriend.

katsuki doesn’t think he’s particularly unattractive either and women do approach him; unfortunately, they’re left sour by his mannerisms and deadpan tone of voice. at 18, he didn’t care that girls didn’t really understand him. but four years is a heck of a long time to change your view on things: things being love.

you tell him that anyone would be silly not to love him.

katsuki has known you since he was a stupid, brooding adolescent kid. he thinks it’s a blessing and a curse that you came into his life so forcefully, uprooting yourself and plopping your ass into the middle of it. he’d never tell you but sometimes when he’s on blind dates with the next girl that denki thinks is “the one,” all he can think about is you: especially when his forgettable date orders your favourite, barbecued duck noodle soup, to be exact and he remembers when you made that for him on his 18th birthday.

when you come over to his place to cook dinner and watch a film, you ask about his date and katsuki alludes to the failure of it and that she also “eats really noisily,” a pet peeve of the blond’s. you frown cutely, like you always do when he tells you about the flings that don’t go well.

“well, anyone would be silly not love you, katsuki,” you’d always say and it was routinely with the way he’d stand behind the kitchen island and you’d smile at him, eyes crinkled and shining, making a raspy breath hitch in his throat.

and when dinner was ready, you’d set out both your bowls of dumplings and duck and sometimes you’d put on a netflix show that you really like (katsuki thinks netflix sucks but for you, he’d watch paint dry); however, this time, you opt to just talking, catching up on your day and the plans for the week.

“y’know, blind dates aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway. statistically speaking, your soulmate is probably someone you’ve known all your life,” you say candidly, slurping noisily and katsuki watches you thoughtfully before scoffing, all bemused.

“i speak to maybe four women, including you and my ma. great odds,” and you giggle at that, making his heart jump while some soup dribbles down your chin.

“there’s someone out there for everyone, okay! and who are the other women besides me and your mom?” you raise a brow jokingly and katsuki lifts a hand to softly flick at your head.

“just coworkers. like i said, the odds ain’t great,” he grumbles and you rub at the spot on your head before resting your hand on top of his and lifting it back up to press it to your warm cheek.

“you have me! am i not enough woman for you?”

katsuki’s eyes soften and his thumb subconsciously rubs across your skin.

“plenty ‘nuff woman for me. don’t know who else could put up with me,” he says earnestly and both your eyes widen almost comically at the words that slipped out of his mouth.

he’s about to dejectedly pull his hand away when you slightly lean into his touch, “it’s like i said. anyone would be silly not to love you,” and you angle your face so your plump lips kiss into his thumb.

you decide not to comment on the reddening tips of his ears and the pink dusting across the golden specks of freckles on his cheekbones, to save him from the embarrassment.

maybe it’s the years from knowing katsuki that allows you to always say the 8 words: from seeing him transition from a brash, harsh, emotionally constipated 17 year old who was at least three inches shorter than you (he would vehemently deny the passing of time in which you would tower over him) to an almost 23 year old man, who picks you up from school most days, who’d wash your makeup off when you got too heavy handed with the liquor, who knows your order at the local chinese off by heart and who is now definitely almost a foot taller than you.

before katsuki washes up, he shyly asks you to stay the night - in his own roundabout way of being timid, which includes his heavy voice and a seldom amount of eye contact - and you normally do sometimes, with him sleeping on the couch while you take up his kingsize bed. your heart shakes a little in your chest but of course, you smile in reply and nod. you and him both know that this time, it’s different.

“we can stay in my bed… if you want,” mumbles the man gruffly and this time, you bite back a smile. dealing with katsuki meant that you didn’t like to fluster him at times where he was opening up to you, albeit in small, crumbly pieces.

you nod again and reply.

“of course.”

it’s 9:35pm on the dot when you both settle into the duvet of his huge bed and katsuki is kind of stiff, to say the least, and there’s a metaphorical wall between you two. you think he’s staring straight up to the ceiling, if his breathing pattern and the slight glow of his red eyes told you anything.

“is it okay if we cuddle?” you whisper, turning to your side to face him and you think you did something right because he breaks out of his self-doubting stupor and after a few moments, opens up his arms to your smaller body as a leg wraps around his waist and an arm drapes across his chest.

“you okay, katsuki?” you whisper again. “did i do something?” and he can hear the pout and the furrowed brow in your voice.

katsuki all but he wraps an arm around to pull you closer, “no. just go to sleep, dumbass.”

you pull yourself up and he panics a little but he can slightly make out the smug grin on playing on your lips and your bright eyes in the dark as you lean on his chest to be level with his face.

“i promise no one under the age of 45 goes to bed at half 9. you’re so lucky you have me,” and before he can ask what you mean on “having you,” you press your lips onto his and it’s ended before it even started. the taste of his mouthwash and your chapstick lingers and he’s stiff all over again.

“anyone would be silly not to love you, even if you act like an old man,” you sigh, bonking your head softly onto his and he inhales deeply, playing with the hem of his shirt draped on your body.

“don’ need anyone else to love me when i have you, right?”

he can see the smile that reaches your eyes, crinkles and all.

“you might be right about that,” you hum and katsuki leans up to nose around your jaw before locking lips with you properly.

katsuki knows that he’s a little difficult to deal with sometimes. to love is a different story altogether. but when you look at him like that: like he has the world on his fingertips, encased in ribbon and inscribed in lettering addressed just for you, he decides that he’ll never accept anything but the best.

even if he is a little bit of a grandpa. but you’d be silly not to love him.

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © moominsuki. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[aureatchi]

˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.

[spaceagebachelormann]

hii can i request headcanons of how finnick odair would be as a bf? maybe if ur also a victor

finnick odair and victor frankenstein as bfs !

✧ warnings: spoilers for thg and frankenstein maybe?

✧ additional info: erm i didn’t know if u meant i could do victor if i wanted 😔 so i js did anyway cause i will use any excuse to write for someone from that masterlist!! if u did mean i could put victor if i wanted ily and pls send more victor reqs i barely get any for classic monsters in general <3 erm aleo i haven’t watched thg in ages so finnick might be ooc

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ finnick odair

he’s very sweet and calm and overall js like amazing to be around and have as a bf <3

despite the fact bro is majestic and could have 6 girlfriends or boyfriends or whateverfriends if he wanted he’s very loyal and respectful of u

doesn’t even dare to look at anyone else while with u

also very willing to take things slowly if that’s what u prefer

it’s honestly what he prefers too

yk because of everything the capital put him through

he js prefers taking his time to get to know u before anything

but he will take u on the cutest dates ever even before reaching first base

will wrestle ur date preferences out of u. not literally. by that i mean he tricks u into telling him what u would wanna do then surprising u

he’s also like so soft and nice with everyone but with u it’s like 10x more

bro can be literally screaming at someone if needed at one moment and then braiding ur hair for u the next

also he’d LOVE braiding ur hair

u don’t even have to ask he js puts ur head on his chest and plays with it

also he’s still v flirty with u for funsies

esp if u get embarrassed easily

he thinks it’s funny (cute) that’s why <3

and i feel like he’s oddly good at singing

like he js taught himself how to sing once because he was bored and needed smth to do

so he was like “yk what imma learn to sing”

and holy fucking shit is he good at it!!

his voice in general is rlly calming

and he knows it is so he likes reading to u and singing to u or js talking to u and literally anything where he can use his voice

i don’t think he’d be very huge on pet names but he’d def call u honey more than anything (cause this is gn)

ik because im his gf actually!! /j

and shit like beautiful and gorgeous if ur fem don’t tell me he wouldn’t yk he would

and he loves kissing ur face

also if ur fem or js have lipstick he’d let u leave lipstick marks on his face <3

i rlly feel like he’d wanna be with someone who he knows well and feels like he can trust

especially if he’s known them for a few years

and he genuinely doesn’t care abt looks!!

go get urself a finnick odair

ALSO THIS MAN CAN COOK!!

AND BAKE!!

and his food is genuinely the most scrumptious shit u will ever taste

ೃ༄ victor frankenstein

ugh this bitch

he’s definitely very loyal to u and wouldn’t even think about other people but he’s kinda. neglectful.

he doesn’t do it on purpose and always makes up for it but there’s long periods of time where he’s sorta cold and rude to u and distant

but he feels bad after and always makes it up to u

he also would wanna be with someone who he’s known for awhile, but that’s because his dumbass would realize his feelings rlly late

but based on his canon AND fanon love interests he seems like he’d want someone who’s rlly compassionate and nice

unfortunately he might care abt looks

erm anyway!!

probably just calls u by ur name but will throw in a my love here and there if he’s in a rlly good mood

because he’s sorta neglectful he doesn’t rlly kiss u a lot because he’s never actually near u alot

but when he is he likes kissing ur shoulders and forehead and hands and wrists n shit

he’s like cold to everyone else but soft with u <3 (when he’s actually with u)

and he’d love it if u got along well with his family and henry and elizabeth

especially his brothers

and would love it if ur nice to justine because typically people wouldn’t be nice to her cause she’s a maid (/lh ily justine u deserved better)

pls let him yap to u

sometimes he js wants to rant abt his day or ideas to someone and would love it if u sat there and listened

and if u let him yap after he makes his creation and it starts slaughtering everybody he’d love it if u were understanding

after elizabeth dies he becomes 12x more protective of u to the point where he won’t even let u be alone by urself cause he left elizabeth alone for 5 mins and she died (they’re js friends here obv)

his love language is gift giving <3 he likes making u little handmade gifts everytime he sees u

also quality time. whenever he can he likes going on picnics and walks

he’s also not the best at comforting but he’s a very good listener and will let u rant to him

his presence in general is comforting

i’m laughing my ass off at this but he wakes u up to show u bugs in the middle of the night

“victor wtf is that” “goliath beetle :)” “put it back before i make u move in with it.”

he also has the most entertaining days for no fucking reason and has a crazy story to tell u all the time

and his hands are fucking freezing. that’s all bye ily

[rizatouchesthewalls]

everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character” 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

[thisfanisgonesorry]

handcuffed - jim hopper

you REALLY dont wanna get arrested right now.

cw/tags: DUBCON. DUBCON FOR DAYS. uhh, very bdsm-y, obvious power dynamics, degradation kink, handcuffs, obviously. timeline debatable, age difference but thats what makes it hot!, he spits in y/ns mouth. cums in her panties if thats a kink? what would i call that? y/n is canonically a bit of a slut but thats okay! mutual pining if u squint.. maybe enough lore for multiple parts. hopper is lowkey a prick whoop whoop.

havent posted in a while but i wrote this (shitty) gem from a few weeks ago.

<3

Surely, this would be a good day. Surely.

Well, that is what I was thinking before I was sprinting down the road, trying my best to avoid the cops. Needless to say, now I’m restrained by an all-too-familiar chief of police and he’s hauling ass to his cop car, which would now be 50 or so feet from where I’m currently standing.

I’m trying to break free so I can sprint in another direction and pray to god it works. Maybe into the woods, break line of sight. We’re by the backroads, so there’s not a lot of people, though maybe losing face in a crowd would be what I need.

I seemed to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was near Billy’s shithole of a house, just when the cops showed up, and of course, they had to assume I was to blame. Now, at a worse place at a worse time, I’m harshly pressed into the hood of Jim’s car, and he’s struggling to keep my arms in place to put them into a pair of handcuffs. His body is tightly holding me into place, but god damn, I am not getting arrested right now.

“Let me go, Hopper!” I shout, trying to pull my arms out of his grip so I can use them to push him off. I try to move any of my limbs in any direction as an attempt to get him off me.

“Stop struggling.” He says, as he meets my face, feeling the stubble of his moustache brush my ear. I freeze for a moment; before continuing anyway.

“I wasn’t even at that stupid Hargrove’s house! You already arrested all of the assholes there, why are you harassing me!”

He lets out a few grunt, and then I hear a click and feel cold metal around my wrists, so I struggle more as he tries to stand us both up, still pressed against him as he tries to not let me escape him.

“Get the fuck off me, Jim.”

“Watch it.” He breathes out, “You’re about to get us both into somethin’ you don’t wanna get into.”

“I don’t wanna get arrested by some pig! Not over some shit I didn’t do!”

He finally brought some distance between us as he turned me around, looking at me face to face, though still trying to keep me in place with a hand firmly on my shoulder. I was trying to analyse the situation, there was one, semi-large, semi-hard, glaring problem.

Maybe all that struggling was not the wisest idea I could’ve had.

“Are you hard right now?” I said, with a bitter taste on my tongue, deciding to get rid of that taste by spitting right in his face.

“I told you to stop struggling.” He said through gritted teeth as he wiped the saliva with the back of his hand. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” He gestured towards the backseat.

“What? This, or you?”

“Get in the fucking car, Y/n.”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m telling the truth this time, promise!” He began to shove me, before I tried to intervene once again, desperation levels rising to a shameful amount. “Hey! Hey! Maybe we can work something out!”

“I’m taking you in and if you don’t stop talking, I’ll find some way to shut you up.” He seemed unphased despite the half-mast tent in his pants. He glared at me, speaking sternly. “And don’t fucking spit at me again.”

“I’m not friends with Billy, I’m sober as a judge here, Hop!” I furrowed my eyebrows, “Plus, it’s not like you can walk into the station with a boner, can you? Or are you willing to bet it’ll go away by then?”

“You’re right. I can’t. I know what you’re implying, I also can’t..” He hesitated for a moment. “..Act on it with someone under my custody.”

He could sense the sardonic attitude behind my voice. “Why not?”

“Don’t play that game with me.” He said, pushing me again towards the backseat, though I crashed into the side-mirror of his car, letting out a moan of pain which made him, and his buddy, a bit more rash.

“Help me, help you?” I said with a fake grin, trying to push his buttons, either as a tease or a genuine way to get into his pants. “C’mon, what d’ya got to lose?”

“My job.”

“I won’t tell no one. C’mon, I’ll help you out and you can think about letting innocent ol’ me go, how’s that?”

Is it bad that through the numerous times Chief Hopper has thrown me in jail, I’ve always thought, ‘might as well go out with a bang, right?’, he’d been on my ass for years, either for underage drinking or hanging around pot, he’d find some way to get me in handcuffs. I was old enough to do both of those now, and for once, I was completely innocent.

“If you’re so innocent, why’d you run?”

“Look, I was just at the wrong place, wrong time. I saw sirens comin’ at me, what d’ya think I’m gonna do?” I could feel the tension; sexual or not, it was thick in the air. He was clearly sexually frustrated, and look at him, of course he would be. Sure, he was hot, but it’s not like the chief of police gets many weekends.

“I’ve heard you use that excuse before.”

“I’m telling the truth here! What have I got to lose? You’re hard and I’d fuck you to get out this time. I’m not sitting in a drunk tank with Billy!”

“Why’d you run?”

“Fine! I got pot on me! But it’s not from Billy!”

“Where?” He said sternly, trying to pull it off me. I didn’t want to admit it was in my bra, so I tried to avoid eye contact. “Where.” He repeated, louder.

“It’s in my bra..” I said, still avoiding eye contact. He looked at the buttons to my white and green shirt, deciding if he should or not. I rolled my eyes at him, almost to urge him to just hurry up and get on with it.

He quickly began unbuttoning the shirt, it was probably not his best choice, but once it was unbuttoned, he tugged it out of my jeans and tried to push it as best he could off my torso. He took in the view for a moment, but only a moment.

“Where?”

“Left side.” He raised his large hands to put his hand on my right; “MY left.”

Granted, I hadn’t exactly prepared for this moment, so my bra was an off-skin tone, and wasn’t exactly ‘sexy’. He put his hand in the cup of my bra, feeling it for a moment, his fingers grazing my nipple, before he pulled his hand away, with a small baggie of mix in his hands.

“Look, I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong, okay?.. I’ll do anything, I just.. Please don’t bust me for this.”

He looked at the bag, and he exhaled sharply, you could see the cogs turning in his brain, like clockwork, deciding. Weighing his options, even.

“Anything?” He spoke almost silently.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He said, “I’m serious.”

I hesitated for a moment, before simply nodding, and he let out a shaky sigh before grabbing my face, he was still rightfully so, very angry at me, so he firmly pried my mouth open.

“Swallow it.” He spoke sternly before spitting in my mouth.

I swallowed it immediately, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

It took me by surprise how quick the tables had turnt, and his breath shook, and he quickly opened the backseat door, pushing me towards it, though I still stood upright. He had full control, so it seems he wasn’t just going to bend me over and fuck me. At least, not right away.

He pressed his mouth on mine, one hand holding me in place by the waist and the other holding onto the roof of the car. Slowly, he moved his hands down, playing with my belt until he could tug down my jeans so they rested around my knees.

“Hop, c’mon.” I breathed, pulling away though his mouth chased mine slightly. He peaked down, eyeing white panties with a small bow on the elastic.

He pulled away fully, then fiddled with the belt of his own pants, before unbuttoning them and leaving it open like that. I tried to open my legs for him though I was restricted, he pressed our clothed crotches together, a sigh escaping him as he did.

“Can you.. unbutton your shirt?” I asked, a little more timid than I would’ve liked. He gave a short nod, before unbuttoning his shirt so I had a decent view. He was fit, though obviously rockin’ a bit of a dad bod. A good amount of hair and honestly, I could be mad about the last screw I might have for a while, yet I’m not.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Please.” I responded softly, leaning towards him though he simply pulled away. He seemed proud of himself, devolving me into almost begging for it, yet also unsatisfied. “Sir? Please?”

“You’re so smart, such a fast learner.” He said, though it somehow sounded like he was degrading me, and yet, it was driving me crazy.

“I.. I want to touch you.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“C’mon, Hop. Don’t tease me.” I pleaded with him, and it must’ve worked.

Almost like a switch went off; it was quick, but not harsh, he turned me around and bent me over the back seat.

“Beg for it.”

“I’m not begging for it.”

He took a fist of my hair and pushed my face into the seat, speaking sternly. “Don’t act like you’re not a slut. I’ve heard the stories. Beg.”

“Shit, please.” He pushed my face further; “Please, sir, please!”

“For such a fast learner, you’d think you’d know how to keep out of trouble.” He said, alongside rustling of fabric, I assume pulling your pants down with only one hand isn’t easy. “Last time. Were you at Hargroves or not?”

This was probably the most evil form of interrogation.

“No! I swear it, I hate his guts; him, and his shitty weed. What do I gain from lying to you right now!”

“You do whatever you can to get your kicks out of me. I know you get around. The amount of drunk-tank ramblings about the vixen behaviour you get up to, who knows, this is just another way to fuck with me.”

“Tough talk coming from you.”

“Quit acting like a brat.” He snarled, “You want this, you need this.”

“I don’t.” I lied, and he could tell.

“So if I just pulled up my pants and undid those handcuffs, you wouldn’t kneel and beg about how you need me? I see how you look at me.”

Shit. He played into exactly what I meant and he’s still got me caught.

“No, I mean, yes, I dunno!” I cried with urgency.

“Say you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jim, please.”

“Exactly. Look how wet you are.”

He pulled down my panties, soaked beyond any chance of denial, or even dignity I could possibly have left. He shakily breathed, lining himself up to my entrance to only grind against the slickness, teasing.

“Jim, please, I’ll be good, please. I’ll stop getting into trouble, just—”

Almost like a heaven-sent miracle, he began slowly pushing himself deeper, one hand the chain of the handcuffs, and the other still tightly in my hair.

“Oh, shit.” He groaned, bottoming out in a smooth movement.

He began at a slow pace, just to feel the way he felt as he moved. It wasn’t fast enough to build any pleasure.

“Faster, my god.” The pace was agonisingly slow.

“I bet you like it rough, huh?” His grip on my hair tightened, almost stinging.

“Shut up—”

“The rumours are right, aren’t they?” He grunted.

“No, ‘m a good girl.” I panted, “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Are you? How long have you wanted to fuck me?”

“If I tell you, will you fuck me like you mean it?” I pleaded, “C’mon, fuck me real hard, please — I’m good for it.”

He rolled his eyes and began thrusting, the sound of wet slapping sound quietly echoing through the woods.

“You really are just a slut, look at you.” He laughed, letting go of my hair and reaching around and grabbing my throat, pulling me upright. “Answer my question.”

“So long, Jim, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re such a little bitch? Why you’re on my nerves all. the. fucking. time?”

“Yeah, ‘m sorry, please.”

“Stop getting into so much fucking trouble.” He cursed, finally letting go of the loose chokehold and grabbing both hips to fuck into me harder, though completely stopping instead.. “All this so I’ll fuck you? Huh?”

“Yes! I’m better than the other dumb whores you fuck, god, shit.”

“Yeah? You want me all to yourself? Say it.”

“I want you, now fucking move!”

He began thrusting again, I went limp and slumped over, he was groaning and only now beginning to lose his composure. I was drooling over the carseat, my eyes were rolling back into my skull, all over some stupid cop with an amazing dick.

“Y’re so nice aren’t you, you’re so good, you’re gonna let me cum right? ‘m your good girl, please, touch my clit, ‘m so close, please, you’ll let me—”

“Look at you, so needy.” He panted, reaching down to toy with my clit. “God, I’m so close, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please!” I began chanting as I unwound on him, “Oh, fuck, I’m—”

I clenched around him and felt the rush of the orgasm hit me like a wave, he shuddered and kept fucking into me until my orgasm rode out.

“Feels so good, y’so good..” I mumbled tiredly, feeling him pull his still-hard cock out. “What? What are you doing?”

“I’m not cumming inside you.” He said, stroking his cock to completion.

“Please. Want your cum, please.” I mumbled into the carseat.

“Fine, I’m gonna..” He groaned in annoyance though it could also pass as pleasure.

“Thank you, sir.”

He kept jerking himself off, “Ugh, Y/n, fuck, I’m—” He grunted as he came on the panties still bunched around my knees.

“Can you.. help me.. get dressed?” I mumbled. He sighed, pulling up my panties and jeans before rolling me over to do up the button and zip. “I can feel your cum, s’warm.”

“Yeah. It is.” He sighed, buttoning up the tshirt and scooting me into the car fully.

He got into the driver’s seat and began turning on the car, talking into his walkie talkie about something or other. “Are you goin’ to take me home?”

“No, Y/n. I have to take you to the station for the pot.”

I groaned tiredly. “Oh, fuck off, Hopper.”

[flying-nightwing]

Love for a Bat (in the Modern Age)

Hi 😳😳😳 It's been a while, how's everybody doing? So um, yeah. Sorry about that long absence. Life, y'know. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little warm up piece even though it came out approximately 4 days too late for Valentine's day. But hey, another one to add to the Nightshade!batsis collection ;)

Pairing: batsis!reader x batfam

Word count: 2734

Warnings: semi bad language

Summary: The bat boys have noble intentions in love, but severely lack the capacity to prioritize their own well being when faced with the choice between a date and saving the city. Luckily for them, this year they have you to help out.

Dick’s frantic entrance in the cave was anything but subtle. He climbed down the stairs so fast it sounded like he was literally tumbling down and kept muttering shit shit shit over and over again under his breath. Or not so much, as someone up on the second floor could probably hear him as clear as day. 

“I am in so much trouble”

In any other circumstances, you would have worried about how frantic and desperate he sounded. Yet, you suppressed a self satisfied grin and spun your chair around to face him. Dick was either becoming more predictable with age, or just just knew him that well. Either way, he would soon find out his emergency wasn’t one. You just wanted to enjoy making your big brother squirm for a little bit longer. 

“What’s up Dickie?” You asked with your most suspicious, best fake innocent voice, but it went right over his head. Poor thing must truly be distressed for him to miss so many clues. 

“I meant to call and make a reservation for tonight” He groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “But then B called me on a case, then there was this whole Poison Ivy thing that took me out for like a week, and things kept on piling and now they’re full and Babs texted me earlier to confirm we were still on and I said yes but I have no idea how I’m gonna pull this oh my god I messed up so bad–”

“Hey, deep breaths” You cut him off as you stood up and went to him. “It was that dessert place, yes?”

The Sugarcloud Lounge had opened a little less than a year prior and had quickly become a must try in Gotham. You had dropped by one time your patrol had stretched until the morning light was well settled and was lucky enough to get your hand on a fresh out of the oven cupcake, and you could confirm, it tasted like it was a gift from the gods hand delivered to you specifically. They regularly hosted dessert tasting events, but their Valentine's Day Dessert Madness was probably the most anticipated of them all, their first time slot on the 14th having been completely booked in less than a day. The other time slots throughout the day had taken more time to book, but it would be foolish to hope there was anything left on the day of. 

Luckily for him, Dick liked to babble, informing you of that plan of his months ago, before the bookings even opened.

“Yeah” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “She’s so excited to try out all those desserts. Especially the strawberry cream tartelette parfaite. That’s French for perfect tartlet, (y/n). I don’t think I have the strength to tell her I didn’t get a reservation”

“Oh, that’s terrible” You replied, patting his shoulder. “If only you had some sort of, I don’t know, awesome sister that knows you all too well and managed to get a reservation for two under your name as soon as the bookings opened.”

“Well, that’s–” He went still for a second as your words registered in his brain. Then, his face peeked out from his hands, his eyes as wide as saucers. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying your booking is at 8” You grinned, then let it drop completely. “Don’t be late”

Shock was still written all over his face as he fully understood the situation. You had pretty much just saved his ass and his whole Valentine’s day evening. Color returned to his skin and his eyes were bright again as a blinding smile slowly stretched on his lips. “Oh my god”

“Not quite, I’ll give you one more try–”

You barely saw him move as he swooped you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you, holy shit, you’re the beeeeeeeest”

You couldn't help but laugh as he gently put you down on your feet. He was vibrating with newfound excitement, and it was adorable to watch. “You’re very welcome”

“I’m gonna make this up to you, I swear” 

“Make this up to me by not being late” You joked as you began pushing him toward the exit of the Batcave.”Now go get ready, shoo”

“Okay okay” He chuckled as he began jogging backward. “You’re the best, I love you!”

“Love you too, have fun!” You waved at him before he turned around to climb back up the stairs. 

You watched him retreat with a fond smile on your face, knowing your brother and one one your closest friend would have a great time where they would be able to prioritize their happiness for once without having the weight of the world on their shoulder. Besides, both Dick and Babs needed a little time off to breathe anyway. And if this pause was also surrounded by delicious godsent desserts, then it was all the better. 

“How long have you been standing there like a creep?”

Jason made a disinterested sound and stepped out of the shadows, walking until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with you, staring in the direction of where Dick disappeared. “Long enough. That was almost impressive, Cupid. Now he’s gonna take your side in every debate for months, no matter what stupid point you bring. Thanks”

You smirked. “Well, someone’s feeling the spirit of Valentine’s day tonight”

“It’s a stupid holiday to force people to think they need to buy gifts to prove they love their significant others” He scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest. “The only spirit I’m feeling is capitalism, and I’m not having fun”

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being, then searched your jacket pocket until your fingers wrapped around a small flash drive. You held it up toward him. “This flash drive holds 25 of the best movies ever made by your standard. All director’s cut, original format and original language. Roy’s waiting for you at your place with a fifty for pizza” 

He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“... If you want to, of course” You slowly began to pull back the drive towards you. “Valentine’s day being a shrine to capitalism and all–”

Quicker than lighting, he snatched the drive from your hands. You could have teased him at that moment, but you didn’t; it wasn’t your goal today. You’d get him another time, god knows there will be plenty of opportunities to do so in the near future. You watched him as he stared at the small red USB key, then up at you.

“Did you organize that?”

You shrugged. “Roy already had a mind to come. I paid for his plane ticket and pitched the movie idea to him. He told me which movie to compile, that’s all him”

He blinked one, then looked down. “That’s thoughtful” He mumbled, then spoke more clearly. “Thanks, Tiny Wing. It means a lot”

“Don’t mention it” You bumped his shoulder with yours. “Now go have fun. Say hi to Roy for me”

If you didn’t know better, you would have sworn it was a smile that formed on his lips. Either way, the way his face had lightened up in the last minutes was unmistakable. “Will do” He said as he nodded, then exited the cave the same way Dick had. 

You took a few steps back and leaned on the desk, and predictably, Bruce came in next with Alfred in tow. However, you raised an eyebrow at how Bruce was dressed. He was in full batsuit minus the cowl, his cape flowing behind him as he chatted with Alfred about the new firewall he installed on the computers. 

“Ah, (y/n), I was wondering if–”

“What’s that on you?” You cut him off, wagging a finger to his outfit. 

Bruce looked down at himself, slightly confused, as he patted the suit for anything amiss. He took the time to double check, then returned his eyes on you with question marks written all over them. “Uh, the batsuit?”

“Yeah” You replied. “Why do you have it on?”

He looked to Alfred, who gave him no clue whatsoever as to what you were on about. “... Patrol?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. It was obvious he would have tried something like that, and that’s why you had been in the cave for hours now to be sure to intercept him before he went out, but seeing it unfold in front of your eyes sure was something else. Unbelievable. “Bruce, you have a date with Selina in just a bit more than an hour”

“I know” He frowned. “I’m just doing a quick sweep around the city, just to make sure everything is alright, I have enough time”

“You most certainly do not” You shook your head. “Now get that off and go get ready”

He was taken aback for a second, then his frown returned a bit deeper. “The city always come first, (y/n), you know that”

“Nuh-uh. Not tonight” You stood your ground, resisting the urge to mimic Alfred’s subtle amused smirk. “Selina comes first tonight. Now go get changed, your nice suit she likes has been dry cleaned and ironed. Worry about not messing up your hair, nothing else”

“But–”

“NO BUTS” You shut him off. “Damian and I will take care of patrol tonight, I’ll be on watch and do it by your rules while you go on your date with Selina. That is non-negotiable dad, so don’t even try it”

He recoiled at the finger you practically jammed in his face, then looked to Alfred once again for help. “Where did she learn to be this threatening?”

Alfred, without missing a beat and without giving away any reaction, replied “I believe she learned it from you, Master Bruce”

Betrayal fell over Bruce’s face. “Alright, I see how it is. I am being kicked out of my own cave by my daughter. Fine, I’ll go”

You waited until he stomped out of the cave and shut the door close behind before letting out a sigh of relief. All things considered, forcing him not to go on patrol went pretty well. “Thanks for the assist, Alfred”

“It was merely an observation” His amused air returned. “You did most of the heavy lifting on this one, Master (y/n). I must congratulate you, your determination to make him uphold his commitment to Miss Selena was remarkable”

You brushed your hand dismissively. “You said it yourself, I just used his own medicine against him. Stubbornness runs in this family, what can I say”

“It does indeed”

“Now there’s only one left” You said as you glanced at the door. Usually, Tim arrived a little bit later, but you were surprised when you heard the door open so quickly after Bruce’s departure. “Ah, there he is”

Tim lazily jogged down the stairs in sweatpants, munching on a cookie and scrolling down his phone. He barely looked up to acknowledge you and Alfred before he popped in the chair beside you. He kept watching his phone until he felt your glance on him, after which he slowly looked up. He took in the usually busy cave at this time of the evening, only to find out it was empty. Well, beside Alfred, and you, who kept staring at him.

“Where’s everybody?” He finally asked.

“Preparing their Valentine’s day evening” You replied coolly. 

He scoffed. “Valentine’s day isn’t until next week, are they having an early all family dinner or what?”

You kept looking at him and shook your head. “Tim. It's today”

“No way, I literally checked my calendar this morning…” He trailed off as his eyes went wide. His thoughts were comically loud as he realized more time had passed than he had even realized, until panic took over his every features and made him shoot up on his feet “Fuck. FUCK. I didn't get Bernard anything”

“I know Timmy. That's why I rented the Gotham Aquarium for the night” You said as you held an arm forward to block his path, so he wouldn't run away from you. “You'll have a private tour and a dive with the rays. A car will pick Bernard up and drop him at the aquarium at 7 on the dot, so I suggest you get there first to greet him”

Oh yeah, that sent his brain into overdrive alright. “What”

“I know, I'm amazing” You grinned. 

“But. How?” He blinked rapidly. “You came up with that? For me? But why? And where did you even find the time to organize all this?”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Tim. You're working so much that you black out and literally lose chunks of time. It's the least I can do to help you out and most importantly, give you some time off with Bernard. Things have been much quieter on my end lately, so it was no burden at all”

“It's literally the best date ever” Finally, a smile appeared on his face. “Thank you so much, I don't know how I'll ever repay you”

“Well, for a starter, I could meet him” You half joked. You hadn't met Bernard yet even after hearing so much about him; there was just never a right occasion for it. Still, you were curious about the boy who stole your favourite brother's heart. “For the rest, don't worry about it. Just have fun”

“Yeah definitely, for all of that” He gestured vaguely as he was already halfway out of the cave. “You’re the best, hands down, thank you!”

And then he ran off, already shrugging his hoodie off. You shook your head with a small smile and returned your attention on the city monitors to flag the more active sectors for the night and brief Damian as soon as he would be ready to go. You still had about half an hour until sunset and the boys were all taken care of, allowing you to take care of the last minute preparations for your run in peace of mind. 

“I must say, it is very kind of you, the way you helped out Master Timothy and Master Bruce” Alfred began quietly. You glanced at him over your shoulder and smiled. “I suppose you accorded the same favour to Master Richard and Master Jason?” 

“Yep” You nodded and returned your eyes to the screen. 

“Giving them all the night off was quite generous” He hummed. “Handling Gotham alone with Master Damian for the entire night won’t be an easy task, however”

“I know” You replied softly. “But I don’t really mind, not in these circumstances. All of them… They work hard enough and never take time for themselves or time with their partner. I just thought I could do that for them. It didn’t require much effort on my part, and if it can make them happy… They deserve it, and it’s all that matters right now”

You would so dangle it against them later to get what you want, but for now, you were just content with making sure they had an evening they could enjoy without worrying about patrol and crime. An evening for them. This life was a hard one, it took away a lot from all of you, mostly in the form of sucking out all happiness from interpersonal relations. You knew that as much as them, so it was only the right thing to do. You didn’t have a partner to go back to, or close friends to celebrate with who also wouldn’t be on a date tonight, so it was only fair to be the one to stay behind and take watch. And you were good with that, even if it meant you would take on more than you should.

“You know you deserve happiness too, right?”

Your smile faltered just a little bit. You didn’t want to think about how you were still single this year, or how you just couldn’t seem to keep relationships long enough to last until Valentine’s day. Maybe you went all out for your family to make yourself feel a little bit better through others’ happiness, or maybe you did it to distract yourself. But there was no point in envy or in delusion, not now, not ever. 

“Maybe one day, Alfred. Maybe one day”

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (12)

Festus: Coryo! Lizzie! My favorite friends, I have a super important thing I need to ask you guys!

Coryo: Fest, for the last time, I don’t have food to feed you. I’m poor. End of story. So don’t go begging me for cheeseburgers again.

Lysistrata: And please don’t tell me to ask my parents if consuming 10 sugar sticks in one sitting is healthy or not.

Festus: Besties, please! That’s not what I’m here for! I swear!😭

Coryo: Ok? Did something happened?

Festus: No. Not really-

Coryo: Are you in trouble?!😧

Lysistrata: Are you dying?!

Coryo: Did Highbottom gave you another demerit-

Festus: Persephone Price and I are going out!🤭

Coryo: Perse- Persephone?! You’re dating Cannibal Price?!

Festus: Yeah! She asked me first, and of course, I said yes!😍

Lysistrata: That’s so sweet! I’m so happy for you, Bestie!

Coryo: I see. I get it now! You’re having trouble with her taste!

Festus: No, not at all! Thankfully, she ain’t even picky!

Coryo: To be fair, we can’t afford to be picky eaters in this day and age.

Festus: Well, my ✨Percy Bae✨ likes to eat any kind of meat anyway~.🥰

Coryo: Yeah. I know.🤢

Festus: So all I’m asking you guys is to come up with our ship name!

Lysistrata: Ship name? What ship name?

Festus: Like Coryo and Sejanus have ✨Snowjanus✨ for their ship name!

Lysistrata: I thought ✨SnowPlinth✨ was their official ship name?

Coryo: I thought we’re going with ✨CabbageBread✨?

Festus: I thought your future father-in-law (Strabo Plinth) wanted to call it the ✨PlinthSnow Dynasty✨?

Lysistrata: Didn’t Mr. Plinth say something about him dating Coryo’s dead dad before?

Coryo: Don’t say that out loud, Lizzie. Highbottom might hear you. He might even expel you from school for claiming that my dad’s dead.

Lysistrata: But he is dead.

Festus: Our delusional Dean would disagree.

Lysistrata: Oh, c’mon! Highbottom needs to move on! He can’t just pretend forever that he’s still dating Coryo’s very dead dad!

Festus: Well, too bad. Their infamous “Crasca University Breakup” was so popular that even the Districts are not over it.

Coryo: Especially when my father started dating some rich older dude from District 2.😞

Festus: I thought he was dating someone from the Ravinstills?

Lysistrata: Well, whoever it was, I hope it wasn’t President Ravinstill himself!🤣

Coryo: You guys are so mean!

Festus: At least it wasn’t Hilarius Heavensbee’s creepy old man.

Coryo: But seriously, I don’t even want to hear about my dead dad’s past love affairs.😩

Festus: Well, whatever that was, I still can’t keep track of your official ship name, Coryo. Sorry~.

Coryo: Don’t be. Neither can I.

Festus: But here are my suggestions for the Festus x Persephone ship!

Lysistrata: Well, we are all ears! Fire away, Festy Baby!

Festus: First up! ✨Persus✨!

Coryo: No.

Festus: ✨PerseFest✨?

Lysistrata: Cute. But could be better?

Festus: ✨Festphone✨!

Coryo: That one’s nice. . . If you’re a telephone brand!😂

Lysistrata: Coryo, don’t be too mean!

Festus: How about ✨Cannibal & Me✨?😀

Coryo: Heck, no!

Festus: Too soon?

Coryo: Let’s stick with ✨PerseFest✨. Like what Lizzie said, cute and simple.

Lysistrata: Yeah. I like the sound of that already.

Festus: Really?! Thanks, Besties! I knew I could count on you!😘 *runs to find Persephone*

Coryo: That went well.

Lysistrata: So Coryo, my dearest accomplice, wanna steal Highbottom’s apple berry pie?

Coryo: The one that’s been sitting on his office desk since lunchtime?

Lysistrata: Yup.😏

Coryo: Sure! I’m starving!

[moriohradiojanitorroom]

Hi, I stumbled across your blog and I'm really excited to try the match-up✨

Sorry if I write anything wrong, this is my first experience

I have always been told I am a very kind, caring and compassionate person. I think this is true, I always try to help people around me. I am also very optimistic and always try to think of the best. I am still a very shy, insecure and irascible person, but my bad moods pass quickly. If this helps you I am pisces and infp

Speaking of hobbies I really love my favorite manga and anime and cooking. Although some of my recipes sound suspicious but the dishes turn out really delicious. I can't imagine my life without music, I listen to it all the time. I think it's a bit funny, but I do know a lot of facts from many different fields

Oh, I'm afraid I've written too much. If something is unclear then please apologize, English is not my native language. Anyway thanks and good luck, looking forward to your reply💐

Hi there!!! Thanks so much for this request, I was really excited to fulfill it! And don’t worry about too much info or anything like that, this is great! This is also my first time writing a matchup so I hope it’s alright dkdnjsmd You didn’t specify an age or any preferences, so I’m gonna give you a canonically adult character & assume you don’t have a preference for other stuff, like gender or what part they’re from - if you’d like to resubmit with that in mind tho, that’s okay!

With all that in mind, here are some honourable mentions:

Noriaki Kakyoin was the first to come to mind when I read your request, but with the age thing in consideration, I decided to choose someone else.

After that, I considered Jonathan Joestar, Erina Pendleton, and Mohammad Avdol! Ultimately, though, I ended up choosing:

Robert E.O. Speedwagon!

Your positivity and kindness hooked the man in faster than he could even blink - we all know exactly how loyal he is and how quickly he can tell who deserves that loyalty. It only took him a few minutes to read that you’re one of those people.

He’s also pretty intrigued by how much you know. He likes to exchange little bits of knowledge and stories with you, especially after he’s done some travelling and has a wider expanse of knowledge. Even before that, though, he always keeps your words in mind - who knows, one day one of those facts might just save a life!

He also very well understands the difficulties of insecurity and hotheadedness, having faced them himself. He does his best to keep you grounded, and encourages you to leave your comfort zone now and then - it’s key to growth, after all - but he knows when to back off. He can be a little stubborn, especially if he’s enthusiastic, but in the end your comfort matters more. If you’d rather stay at home with him than go out and dance or something, that’s fine by him. Hell, with all the travelling he does, he may actually grow to prefer that more relaxed atmosphere.

On that topic, Speedwagon’s pretty good at reading people’s moods and actions. On top of knowing when he needs to let you chill, he also knows if/when he should make somebody else do the same. If he sees something or someone bothering you, he’s quick to swoop in and do whatever he can to settle the situation, whether that’s just to comfort some insecurities or get a particularly annoying person to back off. If he knows that you can handle it, though, he’ll take a backseat and play cheerleader. In fact, it makes him proud to see it.

Also, this man grew up on the most dangerous street in London. He’s no stranger to meals with some odd ingredients, and frankly, he’ll be even happier to learn how good they taste! He’s not the best cook himself, he’s the type of man who uses whatever he has on hand to try scraping together something reasonable, so a good meal will go straight to his heart.

For the sake of anime and manga, I’m gonna go ahead and pretend we’re a little more modern day for the next few. I feel like Speedwagon is more of a reading guy than a television guy. After a long day, he’ll to sit down and read with you, manga or not. He’ll watch a show too if you ask, but there’s something quite romantic about cuddling up and sharing a book that he feels can’t be matched by much else.

On that note, please forgive him ahead of time - if you do get him to sit down and watch your favourite shows, he will have a lot of commentary. He’s the type of guy who will interrupt a scene to enthusiastically declare something like, “So THAT’S why the bugger carries that chain around!”, or confoundedly question what a character thinks they’re doing. He’ll probably do this while reading too, just maybe not as often. He’s not trying to interrupt, he just gets excited - if you tell him to settle down, he’ll do his best to accommodate, but he might slip from time to time.

Also, (and this is another one of those modern day ones) depending on your music taste, he may or may not buy vinyls or discs of your favourite bands and try to get you to dance with him to them. He’ll probably suggest a concert at least once - something tells me that he’s the type to prefer live music.

Knowing that you’re passionate about something makes him passionate, too. He’ll try his best to look into your interests on his own time, and try to involve you in whatever he finds - maybe he asks an older lady he knows for interesting recipes to show you, or he scours a book store for a series he hasn’t heard you talk about yet. He’s doing his best to match your love for these things, even if they’re sometimes new to him.

Your bright outlook on life, your compassion, your love for the things you enjoy - they’re all astoundingly inspirational to this man. He may sometimes worry that you deserve better than an Ogre Street ex-thief, but by god, will he use all the motivation you give him to make a good life for you.

Okay - I think I might have rambled a bit there, but yeah, thank you so much for the request!! It’s the first one I’ve gotten anyways so I hope you’ll forgive all the babbling jehdjjfs

This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope that you’re happy with it!

[zeb-z]

sw au Leo and Vegetta and Foolish OH MY

Leo! Foolish finds her as a toddler on Coruscant, the day the Jedi temple burns. He’s just an aide to his senator then, barely hired due to staff shortages caused by the war. She’s upset and alone and largely ignored by the rest of the people minding their own business on the lower levels. Foolish scoops her up, gets her some water and something to eat, and waits to see if anyone comes back for her. No one does. From then on, it’s him and Leo against the world.

She sits in on a lot of meetings she shouldn’t be in, is around for a lot of busy work involving information she probably shouldn’t be privy to. But that’s okay, because she’s hardly noticed half the time, and the other half it’s easily excusable - Foolish couldn’t find a sitter on such short notice since the last one quit, she’s hardly interrupting, it’s good lessons for her to learn if she’s going to step into power one day, or even just a raised eyebrow and a ‘are you really going to tell me how to raise my kid?’.

Rarely is Leo actually told to wait somewhere else with one of Foolish’s aides, even rarer is she forced to stay home. She never stays behind whenever her Pa has trips to other planets, especially to Coruscant, unless it’s an extremely extenuating circumstance that’ll last a few days, and Roier is able to watch her. When Foolish is elected Senator, and has far more responsibilities that require him to be present on Coruscant, and no longer can rely on Vegetta, he tries harder to find trusted caretakers that Leo could like - it takes half a year for him to give up entirely. As much as he doesn’t want his child around the nest of spiders that is the Imperial center, he’s not wrong in it being a learning opportunity. And his enemies know of her existence anyways - she’s much safer at his side. And that’s where she’d prefer to be. However, this does make it rather difficult to make friends her age - as if her role as a senators child wasn’t isolating enough.

Leo is adored and doted on, just absolutely spoiled, because Foolish has the connections and the money to do so, so why shouldn’t he? Especially because they didn’t start out that way, with credits to burn and a taste for finer things.

Vegetta is a sculptor, who’s branching out into architecture after gaining enough fame and wealth to be comfortable. Him and Foolish meet very early on, where everyone else always seems to meet - everyone of importance, anyway - at a high end party during Ascension Week. Young Leo bumps into Vegetta while looking for her dad, and he helps her find him, and they strike up a polite conversation. At the next party, one of the ones Leo is at home asleep for, because it’s a later in the night, champagne and under the table spice, kind of Ascension party, they bump into eachother again, bonding over something that isn’t just the usual greetings and well wishes, and the rest is history.

Early into Foolish’s role as governor for his planet, on a day like any other, Vegetta leaves on some sort of trip, purely business. This in and of itself isn’t unusual, neither is the lack of contact for a few days at least - as much as Foolish loves his boyfriend, he’s not the clingy type, he understands that they are both busy people, and he trusts him implicitly. He picks up their weekly hologram call without a fuss. “Don’t worry, mi amor, I’ll be home before you know it. Tell Leo I love her, and miss her very much.” Then he misses the next weeks call. And the next. And the next. A missing persons report and follow up don’t seem to go very far, despite the strings Foolish tries to pull - every sign points to the classic case of an upper class affair, where the guilty party can easily change their face and name to chase after someone else - according to Imperial Law Enforcement, at least. Foolish is introduced to Jaiden soon after, his first Ascension week without Vegetta in a long time. He’s certain this isn’t coincidence.

Roier! Son of Vegetta, pilot with a dream, you know his whole thing. He meets Foolish and Leo through Vegetta, and is adopted in very quickly. He stays around even after Vegetta disappears, still calls Foolish his father and Leo his sister. They try to make it to most of his races, somehow managing to blend in with the crowd without making a fuss of his status, even on the most backwater planets. Roier usually makes it to Ascension week parties at the minimum, enough to keep appearances, and to keep an extra eye on Leo. As much as everyone knows Leo as Foolish’s child, Roier is very often forgotten - which is a good thing. It means he can get away with the racing he does.

Leo meets Vegetta young enough to hardly remember much of a time before him, but she’s old enough to remember when he left. Per Foolish’s advice, she doesn’t read gossip rags, and doesn’t pay any mind to whatever she may hear along the grapevine from spending so much time around socialites and politicians. She’s learned enough to know that this is the game that is played, and that entertaining conversation doesn’t always mean honest conversation. Late nights back at home, when Roier is also over, they like to point at different stars and wonder if that’s where their father is at now. On one planet, he’s lost on a hike and is still wandering. On another, he’s finding inspiration for his next major construct in the zen of nature, and left his com (and ship key) behind. On this one he’s fighting dragons to get the greatest treasure to gift to his children. That one, he found a portal that took him back in time, and he has to fight as a knight of the Old Republic. Something fantastical that’s keeping him from coming home.

Roier teaches Leo to fly! After the first few lessons, Foolish lets Leo pilot if they’re just flying around their home world, and sometimes lets her handle part of take off when ascending out of the gravity well to reach hyperspace. Leo Taxi! :’)

[alisonfelixwrites]

HI EVERYONE!!!! introducing a new story with you here :))

Description: in which Cameron Jones and Madeleine Abbott meet under unexpected circumstances but life (and their best friends) continue pushing them together. "Anyway the water turns, you're always on my mind, sweet instigator."

CW: smut!! (chapters with (*) indicate smut), mature content overall, reader discretion advised, mentions of alcohol/drugs, single parenthood

Sweet instigator - one. (*)

Madeleine’s feet were hurting.

She uncomfortably shifted on her heels, twisting her ankles around a bit as she coped with the strain in her arches. Maybe another sip of her beer would soothe the ache a bit. Madeleine knew it wouldn’t, but she tried anyway, tipping her cup back to let the cold liquid run through her throat.

“This place is so fun!” Carla gushed. Madeleine hummed along softly, not feeling quite the excitement her coworker was displaying. Carla flipped her auburn hair over her shoulder as she looked around, clearly scoping her surroundings.

Madeleine arched up her brow, “Looking for someone?” She checked, her voice already breaking a bit from shouting over the loud music.

Madeleine had to admit it had been ages since she went to a club. When Carla - a girl who started at the firm not too long ago - asked her to go for an afterwork drink, this wasn’t what Madeleine saw herself doing on her friday night.

She was still in her working clothes, which consisted of black flares and a simple black t-shirt. She felt underdressed and more so looked like she belonged in a rave rather than anywhere else. The black heeled boots on her feet seemed like a good idea for a day of sitting behind her desk, not for an evening of standing up and dancing in the crowd.

“I don’t know.” Carla breathed, “Didn’t Tommy say he was going to be here?”

Madeleine frowned, “Tommy? The prop guy?”

Carla rolled her eyes, “It’s a job, Maddie.”

“No, I know.” She shrugged, “I just don’t know what it’s officially called. All I know is that he drives around day in, day out to look for props.”

“Well, yeah, Tommy the prop guy, I guess.” Carla took a sip of her wine. Madeleine tilted her head to the side, “You think he’s cute?”

“Just a bit.” Carla breathed, shrugging it off, “Do you know if he’s single?”

“I know he’s married.”

Carla’s eyes widened, “Shit, really?!”

“Yeah.” Madeleine chuckled, “Have you never seen the ring on his finger? He’s got a baby on the way, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Carla groaned, throwing the remainder of her wine down her throat, “I need something stronger than this.” She dragged Madeleine to the bar, “I was about to be a fucking homewrecker!”

Madeleine huffed out a chuckle, “It’s all good. Nothing happened, did it? You can have a crush on someone who’s married or taken, as long as it stays innocent.”

“Well, my thoughts definitely weren’t innocent.” Carla muttered, signalling the bartender, “Four shots of tequila, please.”

“Carla,” Madeleine groaned, disagreeing with the choice of drink even if the bartender was already grabbing four shot-glasses, “please tell me you’re going to drink all of them. I hate tequila.”

“How can you hate tequila?!” Carla laughed and Madeleine shrugged, “It makes me hurl. And besides, I haven’t eaten since lunch, I’m gonna be piss drunk. Can’t we leave this place and grab a bite somewhere? It’s like nine already.”

“Gosh, you sound like an old lady.” Carla teased, “But alright, after these shots,” She grabbed the glasses and pulled them closer as the bartender put a tray of lemon wedges on the bartop, “we’ll go out and find something to eat.”

Madeleine’s mood perked up but Carla held up her finger, “But only if you promise we’ll go dancing afterwards.”

“I can’t feel my feet.” Madeleine deadpanned as Carla pushed a shot in her hand, “Sitting down for about an hour will do wonders! You’ll forget all about that pain. C’mon, drink up!”

And so Madeleine did. Her face scrunched up at the taste and she coughed a bit before biting the bullet and taking that second shot. The alcohol rushed to her head immediately and Madeleine sighed out, realizing she actually planned on a cosy night in on her couch. It sounded boring, but she planned on cleaning.

All week long, she had let her apartment go to trash so it’d feel twice as satisfying when she finally had the time to clean it. And now she’d have to stumble to bed drunkenly tonight to wake up in a mess tomorrow.

Carla was chattering her ear off as the two exited the club and the afterwork event. Now that Carla knew Tommy was taken, she was basically checking out every guy on the street. She even flirted with the waiter of the Italian place they eventually found a small table at.

Madeleine craved carbs, and so she ordered the biggest cheesy pasta they had on the menu and munched on it like a cavewoman. Her hair was pinned back to keep it out of her face and she hardly cared what she looked like when she ate like her life depended on it. Madeleine hated feeling hungry.

“Do you think he’s cute?” Carla subtly nudged her head to the guy making pizza’s by the front door. Madeleine paused mid-chew, seeing the sweaty bald guy. She narrowed her eyes and swallowed her bite, “Hm. I-I’m not sure. Not my type, I think.”

“Well, not for you.” Carla smiled, “but for me?”

“Look, Carla,” Madeleine chuckled, “you should just go for it.”

“What about you, by the way?” Carla took a sip of her red wine while Madeleine wisely chose some sparkling water to not get too blind drunk tonight.

Madeleine leaned back in her chair as she finished her plate, “Me?” She questioned, “Oh, I don’t know.”

“You’re single, aren’t you?”

“What gave me away?” Madeleine sarcastically asked, rolling her eyes. Carla chuckled, “Well, if I’m honest, someone told me you used to be engaged and that you’re not anymore.”

“Someone told you?” Madeleine frowned, “Let me guess, Valery did?”

Carla lowered her eyes and shrugged again, “Maybe.”

“She’s such a gossip.” Madeleine exhaled, “But yeah, it’s true. Good to know she’s hanging my dirty laundry out for the entire office.” She had a bitter tone to her voice and Carla shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. You know what our office is like, everyone knows everything. And besides, she said the rock from your finger disappeared.”

Madeleine rolled her eyes again, feeling a little aggravated, “You know, I don’t really want to talk about it.” The silence quickly felt awkward and Madeleine reached for her glass, keeping her eyes low.

“Right.” Carla mumbled, “Okay, I’m sorry. I-I guess I just wanted to know if you’re looking as well.”

Madeleine cleared her throat, “Not really, no.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

Madeleine forced a smile and nodded, “Mhm.”

Carla tapped her fingers on the table, “Do you still wanna go out?”

Madeleine felt the burn in her chest at the mention of her separation, and she wondered if she should give into her urges and cry herself to sleep at home by herself, or if she should attempt to leave her sour mood behind and have a fun night.

She took a deep breath and exhaled, “Yeah.” She nodded, smiling slightly, “could be fun.”

“Yay!” Carla excitedly squealed, “Okay, I think there’s a great club not too far from here. How are the feet?”

“Painful.” Madeleine chuckled. She had been sitting for a while so it was fine now, but she knew the second she’d get up she’d feel stabbing pains once more, “I’m gonna need some booze.”

Carla’s grin grew and they paid for their dinner before going on their way. They walked arm in arm through the streets, giggling a little bit. Carla couldn’t help but rate every guy they passed by on the street.

“Oh,” she gasped, looking over her shoulder, “that was definitely a nine.”

“Oh my god, Carla.” Madeleine giggled, shaking her head, “You’re horrible. Imagine if someone rated us based on their looks? I’d die.”

Carla rolled her eyes, “You’re hot as fuck, don’t give me that.”

Carla pulled her into the club she was talking about earlier and they went to the bar as a first order of business. Madeleine was glancing around and hardly realized that Carla ordered them more shots. “Carla.” Madeleine rolled her eyes but didn’t really protest when the glass of tequila got pushed in her hand. Carla grinned at her, “Bottoms up!” She cheered.

Madeleine giggled as she did so, drinking down the shot before ordering a beer. The alcohol quickly buzzed in her head and even if Madeleine hadn’t thought she would, she was actually letting go. Maybe she was drunker than she thought, and she found herself dancing like no one was watching.

With her arms up, she swung her hips from left to right to the beat of the music, bass bouncing off the walls. Madeleine had ditched her purse in one of the lockers along with her jacket, sweat quickly pearling at her hairline from the warm temperatures.

It was April in London, which meant weather was perking up but every day was a surprise. Basically, they got all four seasons every single day and Madeleine never really quite knew what to wear. Some days she arrived at the office, soaked through from the rain. Other days she was sweating because she put on too many layers. And on other days, she scooted her chair closer to the heating because she decided on a t-shirt when it was very clearly sweater weather.

She didn’t feel like she stood out too much in her all-black outfit. This wasn’t a stuffy after-work event, this was a club. 

“Maddie,” Carla drunkenly giggled, taking a hold of her arm. Madeleine opened her eyes to find a wide grinning Carla in front of her, “Hm?”

Carla tipped her head back to drink her vodka-lemon, “You know what would be crazy?”

“What?” Madeleine curiously asked and Carla bit her lip, “It would be so crazy if we… like, kissed.” She laughed.

Madeleine raised her brows, “Huh?”

“Yeah.” Carla shrugged, “You and me. You know, we’re drunk, we’re girls.” She shrugged it off as nothing and Madeleine breathed out a chuckle, “You want to kiss me?”

Carla took another sip and shook her head, “No, no, not like that! Just like…” She laughed again, “never mind.”

Madeleine awkwardly laughed along and nodded, “Right.”

“Oh, now that’s a hot guy.” Carla quickly changed the subject, her eyes zeroed in somewhere behind Madeleine. She turned around to see who Carla was talking about and frowned, “The smoker?” She questioned, eyes lingering on a guy in the small smoker’s booth the club had.

He stood by himself with a beer in front of him, cigarette dangling between his lips as he scrolled on his phone and leaned his elbows on the small table. His heel tapped along to the beat and Madeleine watched as his fingers took the cigarette from between his lips and he puffed out a cloud of smoke into the already hazy space.

“I bet you he’s so fit.” Carla exhaled and Madeleine puckered her lips, “I mean, yeah. He’s handsome.” She shrugged. He wore all black like her, even just a slightly similar outfit. Black slacks that flared a bit at the bottom, black dress shoes with a bit of a heel on them and a black button-up with rolled-up sleeves below his elbows. 

“I mean, the smoking’s a bit unattractive.” Madeleine admitted, turning back to face Carla, who gave her a deadpanned look, “You smoke.” She spoke matter-of-factly.

Madeleine frowned and held up her finger, “Attempting to quit.” She corrected.

“For like the billionth time.” Carla rolled her eyes and Madeleine huffed, “It’s not easy, okay. And I haven’t smoked once tonight, have I?”

“Oh, look, he’s coming here.” Carla’s eyes widened and Madeleine smiled in amusement when her friend very clearly tried to dance sultrily as the guy was headed their way.

Cameron had to admit he wasn’t really looking at his surroundings. His brain felt thick from being in the tiny cabin to smoke, and he damned himself for not just going outside. His clothes would reek for weeks and it hurt his throat to be in there. He only smoked when he was drunk.

Cameron wasn’t completely sure how he ended up here. Alone. Today had been a long day and Fridays were usually the nights he spent with Beth. He rolled his eyes when he lost the bet to himself - which was attempting to not think about Beth for longer than five minutes. He failed, as he usually did.

He always got nostalgic when he had too much to drink. The friend he went to dinner with left afterwards to go home to his girlfriend, but Cameron wasn’t ready to go home yet. At home, he was just alone. He might as well be alone in a club and attempt to make something out of his night.

“Hi.” A girl stepped in front of him and he blinked twice, attempting to focus on her, “Hi.” He mumbled back. The music was loud in here, and Cameron was actually on his way out.

The girl was a bit shorter than him. Her hair was auburn-shaded and laid in subtle waves over her shoulders, cascading down her back. Her white blouse had a pink stain on it, and Cameron suspected she must’ve had some pink wine earlier which was the culprit for the stain.

The girl bit her lip and batted her lashes, giggling at him, “I- uh… wow, this is embarrassing. I saw you smoking right there,” she pointed to the smoking area he just left, “and I just have to say you’re so hot.”

Cameron’s brows raised at the blunt flirting, and he felt slightly alarmed and unsure of how to react. “Oh.” He exhaled, curling his lips inside of his mouth and running a hand through his hair, “Well - thanks.” He settled on saying, feeling as someone bumped into him from behind in the crowded room.

The girl giggled again, “I’m Carla, by the way.” She held out her hand and Cameron shook it with little enthusiasm before Carla turned to the side, “And this is my friend.” She tapped another girl on the shoulder, who briskly turned around.

The girl politely smiled at him, “Maddie.” She introduced himself.

Cameron couldn’t explain it. It was like he lost all breath in his lungs, staring at her. It was also like she moved in slow-motion - which Cameron knew was impossible. It was also impossible that the music died down and that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears so clearly.

His skin felt hot when Madeleine stared up at him. She glanced at Carla for a second, as if wondering why Cameron was just staring and not saying anything, and eventually he snapped out of it, clearing his throat, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for Madeleine and she shook it, “What’s your name?”

Cameron pressed his lips together and took just a split second to decide how he was going to do this. And of course, his idiot brain made the wrong decision but it was already too late to back out, “Chris.” He smiled.

“Chris.” Madeleine nodded, “Nice to meet you too.”

Cameron’s cheeks felt hot when she addressed him as Chris. He didn’t know why it was the first name he thought of. He hated that name. He could’ve chosen something so much cooler. 

But tonight, he was someone else. He was escaping, he was not Cameron who had a miserable life. He was Chris. And he could be whoever he wanted to be. Madeleine didn’t know him. She wouldn’t ask questions.

Cameron had to admit he forgot the other girl was there too, who bumped into his arm, “Do you want a drink, Chris?” Carla questioned. Cameron raised his brows and glanced to the side, “Uh - yeah, sure. Beer, please.”

Carla and Maddie seemed to have a silent conversation with just their eyes and Maddie eventually forced a smile, “I’ll go get us drinks.” She turned around to leave the two by themselves and get in line at the bar and Cameron frowned, stepping behind her, “I’ll come with you.”

Madeleine’s brows raised and she glanced behind Cameron to see Carla, whose jaw was on the floor at the clear rejection. Madeleine felt Cameron’s hands on her hips from behind to nudge her forward towards the bar, and she helplessly shuffled along. 

Cameron stood behind Maddie, scooting along with her towards the crowded bar, “What do you drink, Maddie?” He questioned once they reached. Madeleine held up her almost empty bottle of beer, “Also beer, please. And I think Carla likes vodka with a soda.”

Cameron winced under his breath, knowing it was a pricey drink. But he forced a smile and ordered two beers and a vodka-orange. Madeleine was unsure of what to do. She could feel Cameron’s eyes on her - who she thought was named Chris - and she felt torn, because of Carla’s clear interest in him. 

So Madeleine quickly made her way back to Carla, Cameron walking behind her. He handed Carla her drink and she started some small talk with him. But Cameron was hardly listening. His eyes were drawn to Maddie, who danced as he talked to her friend.

Her brown hair flew around, pulled up into a high ponytail. Maddie didn’t really notice, but whenever she turned, she flicked her hair in someone’s face. But her eyes were closed as she danced to the song, not realizing one bit that she received some harsh glares.

Her nails were painted a dark cherry red and she wore minimal jewelry. Just a simple gold necklace that contrasted against the jet black of her t-shirt.

“So after I dumped my last boyfriend,” Carla’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and Cameron blinked, hearing Carla speaking into his ear, “I just thought I’d take some time to myself, you know? Like really get to know me.”

“Hm.” Cameron nodded with little enthusiasm, but apparently it spurred Carla on to continue, “Like know who I am, who Carla is. So I changed jobs too and it’s just so much more my vibe. Like just positivity, which is exactly what I was looking f-”

“Maddie, do you smoke?” Cameron interrupted Carla, stepping up to Madeleine again, who opened her eyes at the sudden interruption of her dancing, “What?”

Cameron mimicked smoking with his fingers, “Do you smoke?”

Madeleine flicked her eyes to Carla, who glared at Cameron. Madeleine swallowed, “Trying to quit.” She admitted.

Cameron pouted and Maddie’s eyes dropped to his lips for a split second, but Cameron had noticed, smirking slightly, “Wanna share a final cigarette, maybe? ‘M trying to quit too.”

Madeleine exhaled a short breath and shot him a small smile, “Can you give me one second?” She gestured to Carla and Cameron nodded, “Sure.” He watched as Maddie approached her friend.

“Carla,” Madeleine sheepishly touched her friend’s arms and Carla shot her a deadpanned look, “Seriously? You said he was unattractive.”

Madeleine rolled her eyes, “I said his smoking was unattractive. Look, just say the word and I’ll tell him no.”

Carla nibbled her lip, stubbornly avoiding eye-contact with Madeleine until sighing out, “No, it’s fine.” She shrugged, “You should go for it, I’ll find someone else.”

“Are you sure?” Madeleine checked, tilting her head to the side and Carla nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Go get laid.”

Madeleine snorted, shaking her head in amusement. There was no telling how the evening was going to play out. She only knew Chris’ name so far and hadn’t even had a conversation with him. Carla was already imagining Madeleine in his bed, which was a billion steps too far.

Madeleine turned around to face Cameron, “Smoke?” She checked.

Cameron chuckled, nodding, “Yeah. Outside or the little smoking booth?”

“Outside, maybe.” Madeleine suggested and Cameron hummed, “Cool, let’s go.” He placed his hand on Maddie’s lower back to guide her outside, not giving her friend another glance. His hand slipped to her hip, giving a gentle squeeze as the pair made their way outside. Madeleine felt hot from the touches, knowing that Cameron so blatantly made his interest known to her.

Madeleine easily leaned against the brick wall outside as Cameron pulled out a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his pants, “Want one or share one?”

“Seeing as it’s my final cigarette ever…” Madeleine puckered her lips in thought, “I’m gonna go for one all to myself.”

Cameron chuckled, giving her one and picking one out for himself. He stood close to Maddie, lighting up hers and then his as they smoked. 

“So why do you have to quit smoking?” Cameron questioned. Madeleine nibbled her lip, staring at the lit-up cigarette, “Unhealthy and very expensive habit.” She shortly explained, “I’ve been wanting to quit for a long time but it never works.”

“Maybe this time it’s a charm.” Cameron smiled, holding out his free hand and holding out his pink, “Should we swear on it?”

“Final cigarette ever?” Madeleine joked, nodding before she linked her pink to his and Cameron gave a squeeze, “Final cigarette ever.”

“Do you smoke a lot?” Madeleine asked and Cameron shrugged, “Only when I’m a bit drunk.”

Madeleine hummed and they smoked in silence for a bit before she took another drag, “You sort of broke my friend’s heart in there.”

Cameron huffed out a breathy chuckle and shrugged again, “Can’t help that I’m way more attracted to you.”

Madeleine’s cheeks pinked at how blunt he was and she fought her small smile. Since Connor, she had hardly received any attention. Her best friend constantly tried to set her up on dates ever since they broke up but Madeleine had declined every offer up until now. 

“Maybe this is the point where you tell me you’re attracted to me too.” Cameron teased and Madeleine bit her lip, “Chris, I don’t even know you.” She chuckled.

Cameron’s ears turned pink at the mention of the fake name he gave her. Part of him wanted to come clean, but how would he do that after all this time. He avoided her gaze a bit as his mind spun, very unprepared for any questions Maddie might have for him. He cleared his throat, “What do you want to know?”

Madeleine shrugged, “Just like… what you do for a living?”

Cameron’s hand shook a bit, “I’m - uh… I’m CEO at a company.”

“Really?” Madeleine’s brows raised, “That’s impressive. How did you do that, you seem young?”

I don’t know, Cameron wanted to say. He instead smiled and waved it away, “Stop it, you’re flirting.” He changed the subject and Madeleine giggled, shaking her head before she blew out the smoke in her mouth, “So CEO, hm? What sort of company?”

Cameron scratched the back of his neck, “Uh - like developed something in the pharmaceutical industry.” He lied, “A sort of software.”

He was lucky that it wasn’t anything Madeleine was familiar with. She felt a little dumb and very lost at Chris’ words and just nodded, “Wow.” She settled on saying. Chris’ wealth and job dwarfed her completely, and she dreaded the follow-up question.

“What about you?” Cameron asked, flicking his dark green eyes to Maddie, who shyly looked down, “I’m just a production assistant.”

“That sounds cool.” He nodded and Madeleine nibbled her lip, “It’s - uh… yeah, I like it. I did media studies and it’s definitely a job I can grow in. We shoot commercials mostly.”

Cameron nodded again and killed his cigarette right before Madeleine did the same thing. “So, Maddie…” He exhaled, pushing himself off of the wall to stand in front of her, sort of caging Madeleine between himself and the brick wall. She stared up at him, deep blue eyes meeting green and Cameron licked his lip, “think you know enough about me now to let me kiss you?”

Madeleine’s smile dropped a bit as she stared at him in shock. Madeleine had to admit she had been out of the game for a bit, but she had no idea that this was flirting these days. Or dating. It was all so… blunt and bold. And unromantic. 

She studied his face for a bit, seeing the stubble on his jaw, the dimple in his cheek, the crinkles by his eyes. Chris was gorgeous. And maybe it was time for Madeleine to be more spontaneous, like everyone around her almost begged her to be.

So she took a breath and sent him a smile, “You’re bold, Chris.” She teased, “But I’m thinking yes.” She hardly gave him time, pushing up her toes to press her lips to his.

Cameron felt surprised, needing a second to respond and kiss her back. He exhaled through his nose, melting into Maddie and dipping his head when she leaned back down. Maddie’s hands cupped around his cheeks and he immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her shape. 

Maddie arched, tasting the mixture of tobacco and alcohol on his lips. Chris’ hands seemed to know her body blindly, his fingers cinching in her waist and holding her ribs as she linked her hands in the back of his neck to pull herself up to him. 

Their initial kiss was hot and heavy, but both seemed to slow down a little after that. Madeleine numbly fell into the wall behind her a few seconds later, Cameron easily following her. One of his hands stayed on her waist, the other traveled up to brush the hair away from her shoulder before cupping her jaw.

Madeleine’s eyes fluttered as the kiss turned gentle and passionate. She felt Chris’ tongue pressing against her bottom lip and she opened up, tilting her head to the side. Her hands held onto his sides as their tongues found one another.

The soft whimper she exhaled made Cameron’s dick throb in his pants, and he hummed back while snogging this stranger. Maddie was a good kisser, he definitely had to admit that. And she was quite fun and witty. She was interesting, and as for her looks, she was his type. Sophisticated yet looking fresh and not overdone. Maddie was classy in an effortless way.

And Madeleine felt happy with her decision to kiss him earlier. Even if this was all new to her, this kiss was just… phenomenal. She felt like she was ascending into heaven. Chris was skilled and had her in the palm of his hand, but Madeleine could hardly care. She let him take the lead, his tongue roaming her mouth while her fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt. 

They had to pull back for air at one point, their lips swollen als spit-slicked as they both panted out. Cameron stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, feeling how Maddie pressed another kiss to his jaw before they opened their eyes and burst out into a chuckle.

“You’re a good kisser.” Madeleine softly admitted, her eyes dropping to his lips.

Cameron wanted more. He wanted so much more. He nibbled his lip as he smiled, “So are you.” He flirted back. Fuck, he had no idea how to do this. Not with someone like her. 

Maddie relaxed against the wall and ran a hand through her hair, “So - Chris…” She cringed at herself before licking her bottom lip, “d-do you live close by?”

Cameron raised his brows as Maddie blushed slightly. He fought his smirk because he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. He didn’t have to think about how he was subtly going to ask her to come back home with him to continue their night and explore their attraction for one another. Not when she was the one to do it.

He pursed his lips softly before nodding, “As a matter of fact, I do. Walking distance.”

Madeleine smiled back, “Also walking distance for someone who’s feet are killing them and who can hardly stand anymore because they decided to wear heels this morning?”

He burst out into a chuckle, shaking his head. His hand was still on her waist and he gave a soft squeeze, tickling her in the process and Madeleine giggled a bit at the touch. Cameron gave her a lopsided grin, “It’s two blocks away.” He shrugged, “We could - uh, we could also take a cab.”

The conversation was innocent, the meaning behind it wasn’t. Madeleine shortly nodded and cleared her throat, “Yeah, sounds good.”

They stared at each other for a bit until he took a breath, “Considering your sore feet… should we leave now or do you want to dance some more?” Ball in her court again.

Maddie puffed out a short breath, smoothing her fingers over the wrinkles in his shirt she created by grabbing the fabric too hard before, “Considering I can hardly hold my weight anymore right now, I’d say we could leave now.” She carefully spoke.

Her feet weren’t fine, not by a long run. But Madeleine knew she could keep going if she wanted to. The pain would subside, or she’d make herself forget about it with alcohol. What she couldn’t even attempt to forget about, was the stickiness between her thighs. She was turned-on from that stupid kiss and she already knew her friends were going to be so proud of her for having a spontaneous one night stand.

She was already this far and she was horny and in need of sex, so why not with Chris? Why not let this stranger soothe that ache and then they’d both be on their way again, never to see each other.

“Alright.” Chris smiled, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Madeleine breathed, pushing herself off of the wall, “Oh - wait, I have to find Carla first.” She turned a soft pink, embarrassed about almost forgetting her friend just like that. 

Cameron pressed his lips together and nodded, “Okay. Should I just wait out front for you?”

“Yeah, okay.” Maddie nodded, smoothing out her clothes, “Don’t you need to say goodbye to your friends?”

Cameron shook his head, “They already left.” It was only half a lie. He didn’t want to give Maddie the impression he had been here by himself all night like a fucking creep. She shot him a small nod and then went back inside to say goodbye to Carla.

Madeleine felt guilty about ditching her friend for sex - even though she knew Carla would be proud of her and maybe a little jealous because Chris seemed to favor Maddie over Carla. But when she approached Carla, her brows raised because she had her tongue down some guy’s throat and his hands were on her ass.

Maddie cleared her throat over the loud music and awkwardly tapped her friend’s shoulder, “Carla.” She tried. Carla pulled back from her kisser with a smack and dazed eyes, “Oh - Maddie!” She grinned. Madeleine smiled back, “I’m - uh, I’m going home.”

Carla tilted her head to the side with a knowing smirk, “Alone?”

“No.” Madeleine mumbled with pink cheeks and Carla chuckled, “Go, have fun. Share your location, yeah? Be safe. I’ll see you monday.”

Madeleine smiled, “You too! See you monday.” And then she headed back to see Chris - sincerely hoping he hadn’t ditched her or that he had taken off by himself. Madeleine found herself pleasantly surprised to find him outside like he said he’d be, his fingers opening up the carton of cigarettes in his hand.

“Nu-uh,” Madeleine shook her head, approaching him, “thought we smoked our last one together?”

Chris raised his brows and then flicked his eyes to the cigarettes, “Shit,” he chuckled, “yeah, you’re right. Honestly just a habit.”

Madeleine chuckled and Cameron nibbled his lip, “I should just throw them out, so then I won’t be tempted.”

They started walking and Madeleine glanced at the cigarettes, “Would you really be so tempted knowing they’re in your house somewhere?”

“Yeah.” He admitted, “I actually would.”

“How long have you been a smoker?” Madeleine felt a bit stupid starting up a conversation about that subject, but the walk was cold and silent and she wanted to keep the mood going a bit.

She didn’t realize Cameron cringed at her question though. Because he remembered he started smoking with Beth for fun when they met, and it turned into a serious addiction before they well and truly realized it. It used to be something they did on occasion or with a drink until it wasn’t. Beth swore of smoking when she got pregnant and ever since then, Cameron smoked on his own outside to deal with the stress of whatever was going on inside the house.

“Uh - couple of years.” He settled on saying, the lie easily rolling off his tongue, “You?”

“Like ten years, if I’m honest. Time flies.” Maddie muttered. Cameron dropped his gaze as they walked side by side, “It does.”

They fell into the silence Madeleine attempted so hard to avoid. She glanced to her side to see Chris with his eyes low and clearly in his head. So Maddie softly cleared her throat, “It’s a bit chilly, isn’t it? Have you lived in London for long? I can sense a different accent.”

He snapped out of it a bit and offered her a small smile, walking a bit closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders after her subtle hint of being cold, “I’m originally from up North.” Cameron vaguely responded, “You?”

“Always been a London-girl, but grew up in the suburbs.” She explained.

“You feeling a bit warmer?” He checked, squeezing her shoulder a bit, “We’re almost there.” Cameron almost wished he could speed up the walk and cut their conversation short. He was a bad liar and with each passing second or question Maddie asked, it upped his chance of saying the wrong thing and cutting it short.

He was in too deep now to come clean to her so this was just something he had to do. Just once. Just see what it was like to be spontaneous, to just take the leap. To walk up to a girl, ask to kiss her and then ask to take her home.

“Here it is.” Cameron warily spoke, eyeing the building he had been in earlier today. He felt the pink of shame on his cheeks when he pulled out the key he received from his client and opened up the front door.

Straightaway, Madeleine felt impressed. It wasn’t any regular building, but it was very fancy and clean even in the huge hallway downstairs. “Wow.” Maddie muttered, her eyes staring at herself in the large mirror. 

Before Maddie could even think to look for Cameron’s name on the list of tenants, he grabbed her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. Maddie squeaked in surprise, falling into Chris as their lips locked and her eyes fluttered.

With their lips attached, Cameron opened up the door to waddle to the elevator together, tongues tangled and Maddie’s hands in his chestnut locks. He had a hand on her ass while pressing the buttons of the elevator, once more keeping her back to the list of names of whoever owned an apartment here.

Cameron took her up to the seventh floor of the building. An apartment that belonged to Simon Olsen. An actual CEO who needed his apartment to be repainted while he was on a business trip. Enter Cameron, who had been spending his days here with the key he received, mister Olsen trusting him with his apartment and the security system so he could come in and leave whenever he pleased.

Cameron was sure Mr. Olsen hadn’t given him the key to bring girls here for a fuck. 

But Cameron couldn’t care right now, not when Maddie practically climbed up on him, pushing her tits into his chest and tightly locking her arms around his shoulders. Her kisses grew needier, whimpers escaping her throat. Cameron smirked against Maddie’s lips, using his hips to push her out of the elevator and into the apartment.

“Just a second, baby.” He pulled back, too drunk on lust to even realize the pet name he blurted out. Madeleine hadn’t even heard. She latched her lips onto Chris’ neck as he turned his head and used his hand to disable the alarm. The apartment they were in was dark, but the city lights from below lit it up a bit through the gigantic windows that completely covered one side.

Chris moaned as he grabbed her throat, tilting Madeleine’s head back to kiss her again. And the tone was set for the both of them. Gone were the casual questions and gone was the polite or hesitant attitude. They were both after one thing, and it was sex and an orgasm.

“Bedroom?” Maddie panted as Cameron cupped her ass over the pants she wore. He blinked once, feeling a clench in his stomach when he realized he’d have sex in another guy’s bed. Not to mention the family pictures he had hung back up himself of mister Olsen and his son after Cameron had repainted the room.

“Can’t.” He lied, kissing below her ear, “Getting it repainted.”

Maddie quickly shrugged off her coat, “Oh. So where do you sleep?”

Cameron pressed his lips together, “Couch.”

She turned her head to see the couch behind her, and Cameron followed her gaze. His throat dried out seeing the crisp white couch, and he couldn’t imagine having sex on that and possibly leaving a stain. So before Maddie could even suggest that, he nudged her back against the dining table, “Want you here.” He breathed, “I can’t wait.”

Madeleine moaned softly at the despair in his tone, her palms bracing herself on the wooden table behind her. Chris leaned over her, making her arch as he kissed her again.

His tongue was salacious as it slipped inside her mouth, and Madeleine gasped when he pushed his hips forward and his crotch brushed into her hip. She felt him hard and solid in his pants, a soft groan escaping Chris’ lips as he grinded a bit.

“Fuck.” He panted, quickly yanking on Maddie’s thighs to set her down on the table. It lifted her up a bit, making their difference in height easier and for their centers to line up more. Something Cameron took advantage of, stepping in between Maddie’s thighs to grind between her legs once he pulled her to the edge of the table.

Madeleine’s brain spun when Chris completely wrapped her up. His hands moved underneath her shirt, pulling it out of her pants and she arched more, a shudder running down her spine when his fingers trailed over her back.

Once they pulled back for air, Cameron tugged the shirt over her head to leave her in her bra. Maddie felt goosebumps on her skin from being exposed suddenly, just the dim lights of the lit up kitchen and the street lights illuminated her, but Cameron could see the deep brown of her gaze and the way she stared up at him.

He softly kissed her lips, his hands cupping her rib cages before his vision dropped to her chest. He exhaled a hardly audible grunt, but Madeleine had heard and arched more before taking a hold of Chris’ hand and urging him to touch her breast over her bra.

Cameron exhaled, hovering his lips over Maddie’s as he palmed her breasts with both hands, eyes dropping to where he touched her. Maddie allowed him more room, laying down on her back on the wooden table. She stared up at the ceiling while Cameron let his eyes roam the length of her body. She had some freckles on her chest and a small scar next to her belly button. Her skin was smooth and soft.

He couldn’t stop himself before he leaned down to kiss her collarbone, sponging wet kisses over Maddie’s skin. Her hips bucked into nothing with a whimper, fingers curling over the edges of the table she laid on.

Madeleine could hardly believe herself. Here she was, laying flat on a fucking table with a guy kissing down her body. A guy she didn’t know an hour ago. A guy she knew nothing of, besides that he was from up North, and that he had a job she hardly remembered.

But right now, all she could focus on were his lips. He kissed over her breast, hands still kneading her tits in his palms before he slipped his fingers down her sides to slide down her legs. His lips followed, lowering towards her belly button. 

Madeleine panted out, her eyes fluttering as his scruff tickled her skin but she shuddered in delight at the same time. Cameron blindly reached for the zippers of her boots and they thudded on the hardwood floors of the quiet living room. He tasted Maddie’s skin, nipping and kissing and even sucking around her tummy. He left a love bite on her ribs and tapped her thighs, silently urging her to lift her hips so he could take off her pants. 

Light gray cotton underwear came into view as he did so, the pants joining her boots on the floor of mister Olsen’s apartment. His hands split Maddie’s thighs and he groaned at the wet patch in her panties, knowing they were damp with her arousal and she was just as horny as he was.

He couldn’t wait, craving so badly to feel her more. His hand had a mind of its own, slipping into her underwear.

Madeleine’s eyes shot open and she gasped, clenching her thighs on instinct when he touched her sensitive clit. “Oh!” Madeleine whimpered, her eyes closing and her knuckles turning white around the edges of the table. 

“Fucking hell.” Cameron grunted, the slickness of Maddie’s arousal covering his fingertips as he ran his digits up and down her slit and drew circles on her clit. She jolted and jerked in sensitivity, moaning out. It all happened so fast, Madeleine hardly had time to wrap her head around it all when Chris slipped his fingers lower. 

Madeleine fought for a breath when she felt his cold fingertips prodding around the scorching heat between her thighs, covering his digits in her arousal that she couldn’t hide for the life of her. Cameron didn’t mind. Not at all. If anything, it boosted his ego tremendously that he got her so wet with just some heavy kissing. They wanted the same thing, and he was just as horny as she was.

“Chris…” Maddie moaned shakily, her eyes rolling back as he pushed a finger inside of her. Madeleine bit her lip, greedily parting her thighs wider as she squirmed on the table, legs spread around his thighs. Cameron moaned back, kissing her neck and down her chest. He tugged one of the bra cups down to lick her nipple and Maddie squeaked out in delight of the sensitive touch. God, it had been so long since she had been touched like this.

Maybe her friends were right, maybe this was what she needed. Meaningless sex to blank her mind. No strings attached.

His finger pumped steadily for a bit before he added a second, stretching her a bit more. He curled, searching for the spot that would make her clench and squirm, and he did so a few thrusts later. Maddie sucked in a sharp gasp, her legs tensing more when Chris tapped into her g-spot, making her see stars, “Oh my god.” Madeleine whimpered, “Oh god.”

“Such a fucking wet pussy.” Cameron whispered, sucking her nipple into his mouth with a hum before he exposed her other breast too, switching sides. Madeleine found the strength in her arms, running her fingers through his dark hair as he fingered her expertly.

Her hips jolted and stuttered when he sped up the pace, the heel of his palm constantly rubbing into her clit, “Am I gonna get you off, Maddie?” He licked her sternum, then gave a harsh kiss to the dip of her throat, “Hm?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded watery and Cameron’s cock jumped at the tone of her voice, “Yeah?”

“Yes!” She mewled as her lips parted and she tightly fisted his hair, “Oh, Jesus… J-Just a little m-” Maddie cut herself up with a heavy gasp, her eyes opening as Chris’ fingers pulled her over the edge and into a mindblowing orgasm. 

His lips parted at the sight of her face when she came. Maddie’s eyes rolled back and the vein in her neck pulsed before she started convulsing and shaking. She pressed her lips together to keep down the whining moans as Cameron slowed the thrusts of his fingers before gently pulling out, “Holy shit.” He cursed, taking Maddie in a deep kiss as her thighs jittered in the aftermath. 

She felt dizzy from the orgasm and the heavy kissing, “Thank you.” She whimpered against Chris’ lips, a lazy and fulfilled smile on her lips and Chris hummed, kissing her top lip, “Yeah? You needed that, hm?”

“Yes.” Madeleine admitted, feeling his lips kiss around her throat again, “What else do you need?” He whispered. His hands grabbed her hips, steadying her a bit as he grinded against her. His pants strained but he allowed Maddie the comedown for a moment.

Madeleine’s eyes fluttered as she squirmed on the table, “You.” She rasped, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Fuck.” Cameron lowly moaned, pressing a long kiss below her ear, “Your wish is my command.” He straightened up, staring down at Maddie who laid sprawled out on the dinner table of mr. Olsen’s apartment. Her bra cups tugged down, her panties wet, her cheeks pink. She looked so erotic, Cameron pressed his palm to his crotch with a soft grunt to relieve himself a little bit. 

His eyes caught hers and Cameron almost felt a lump in his throat. Guilt, because he was lying to her and using her. And so he grabbed Maddie’s hands to pull her up to a seated position before yanking her from the table and spinning her around to leave her breathless.

Madeleine’s palms smacked into the wooden table, bracing herself as Chris pressed a hand between her shoulder blades to urge her down. Her cheeks burned at the compromised position as Madeleine followed his urges to bend over the table, pushing her ass out.

Cameron grinded against her, exhaling a trembling breath as Maddie leaned on her elbows and arched her back. His hand brushed her hair to the side before fumbling with her bra clasp for a second, undoing it. Maddie did the rest, flinging the piece of clothing on the floor. She only wore underwear now whereas Cameron was fully clothed.

He gave himself a mental pat on the shoulder for putting a condom in his wallet earlier. It’d be very embarrassing if he had to run through this apartment half-naked in hopes that Mr. Olsen got laid every once in a while and had protection in his bedside drawers.

Madeleine stared at the interior of the apartment, waiting in anticipation for Chris’ next move. She couldn’t see him but her thighs quivered at the sound of the condom wrapping opening up. It was silent in the apartment apart from their breathing, and Madeleine swallowed thickly as she braced herself on the table.

His belt buckle was next, the clinging of it adding to how hot it all was as he opened up his pants. Madeleine couldn’t help but gasp when his length sprung free, slapping against the back of her thigh as Chris tugged down his pants just a bit to pull himself out. He sighed out in relief, pumping himself twice before rolling down the condom.

“Fuck - Maddie.” Cameron whispered when he pulled her panties to the side, exposing her wet cunt. The tip of his cock dragged through her slit, gathering up some of her creamy arousal and she trembled in delight. He bit his lip, his chest warming at just the sight of how ready she was for him. 

It made him feel arrogant and slightly unhinged, to the point he couldn’t stop himself from slapping her plump ass. Madeleine gasped and moaned, dropping her forehead a little at the feeling. Her pussy pulsed around nothing as he kept teasing her and she mewled, “God - Chris, please.”

“So polite.” He tutted, “Wondering how a girl like you can be so deprived.” He mused out loud. Maddie swallowed and pushed her ass back a little for more contact, which earned her another sharp slap in the same spot. She jerked at the feeling while Cameron stared at her red ass, his hand imprinted on her. God, he wanted to lick every inch of her skin, sink his teeth into her ass and leave hickeys wherever he could.

A shudder ran down his spine at the thought and he swallowed, clenching his teeth together while guiding himself inside of her. Maddie moaned out, tensing and arching as he filled her. He was big, and she was grateful for the prep she received from him before so she could take him. “Oh my god.” Madeleine whispered, “Fuck - shit.” The curses were endless as she panted and whimpered as he kept nudging inside of her, inch by inch.

He seemed fucking endless, and Cameron bit his lip as he intently stared at where he disappeared inside of her. Maddie’s walls clamped down around him, swallowing him deeper. She was so wet and warm it made him shake. 

“Hmm, fuck.” He groaned, “Feels good, hm?”

“S-So good.” Maddie squeaked. Cameron licked his lip, keeping a hand on her ass cheek as the other moved up to her shoulder. He gave her another gentle push, and Maddie obliged as she fully leaned her torso down on the cold table. Turning her head, her cheek met the smooth wooden surface and she panted out, seeing him towering behind her from the corner of her eye. 

The sight made her clench, and he smirked knowing she just needed to be thrown around tonight. With a hand on the back of her neck, he held her down as Maddie submissively brought both hands behind the small of her back with pink cheeks. Chris’ gaze shortly dropped to her wrists and he sighed shakily, “You’re a fucking dream.” With the last word, he sharply thrusted.

Madeleine’s eyes rolled back immediately as a jolt of pleasure surged through her. Even when he had searched for her g-spot a bit while fingering her, his cock was pressed right up against her spongy spot from the get-go. Chris started a rather slow pace to seize her reaction before he realized Maddie could very well take him, and he sped up.

The air got shoved out of Maddie’s lungs with each slam of his hips on her, balls slapping against the back of her thighs as he pounded her into the table. He grunted out in sync with her high-pitched moans, and Cameron flicked his eyes from the side of her face to where he was fucking into her. Her ass jiggled with each thrust and he dug his fingers into her behind to give himself a better view. 

Maddie’s legs trembled as he used her to bring both of them an insane amount of pleasure. She had never had sex like this, nor had she ever trusted someone like this after just meeting them. Chris could do whatever he wanted. Madeleine was immobilized on the table - voluntarily. 

“Oh, fuck.” She whimpered, “H-Harder.”

“You fucking whore.” Chris whispered in disbelief, shifting a bit on his feet to thrust sharper. Madeleine cried out at the new angle and he smirked, “Like that, hm? Are you gonna get wet on my cock?”

She didn’t respond, and Cameron gritted his teeth as he thrusted so hard the table scooted up. Maddie convulsed and her eyes opened sharply in surprise when a small wave of liquid squirted out of her. Chris moaned shakily, feeling Maddie’s orgasm gushing past his cock and he quickly pulled her up by her arms, folding her back in half. 

Madeleine could hardly keep up, Chris keeping her wrists together and slipping his other hand to her throat to keep her pulled up as he fucked her roughly. Her hips bruised and her head was cocked back from the grip he had on her. She couldn’t feel her legs and her orgasm seemed endless, and Maddie slumped a bit, grateful that Chris could keep her up.

He moaned into the back of her shoulder, “Fuck - I’m gonna cum.” He breathed, scooting her up again as his hips slapped flush against her and Maddie gasped. He let go of her hands and she immediately buckled forward, holding herself up when he grabbed her hips again, tugging her back into him as he groaned and grunted through his orgasm.

Cameron felt like he ascended into heaven. His eyes were screwed shut, and when he opened them he saw near blurry. Maddie was trembling, attempting to hold herself upright on the table but struggling. They were both panting out, and Cameron smoothed his hands over her ribs before gently pulling out, making Maddie whimper at the loss of contact.

“You okay?” He checked, catching his breath. It wasn’t necessarily the longest session, but he did manage to get her to orgasm twice, one even wet and squirting. 

Maddie swallowed, “Mhm. J-Just a little shaky.”

“Yeah.” Cameron exhaled, “I know, me too. Jesus Christ.”

He was gentle when putting her panties back in place to cover her up. He was still fully dressed with just his dick out of his pants while Madeleine was naked. “Can you stand?” He asked. She didn’t respond much but swayed a little when he let her go.

Cameron was quick in steadying her, “Wait - okay, I’ll get you to the couch.” He spoke, turning her around. Maddie’s face was flushed, her eyes vacant and her cheeks dry from the tears that had escaped her eyes from intensity. She swallowed as Chris cupped her cheeks and stroked her thumbs over her cheekbones before dipping his head for a kiss. She held onto his elbows as he surprised her, passionately and gently kissing her. 

Madeleine wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her breasts flattening against his clothed chest. Chris held her hips and then picked her up by her thighs. His condom-covered cock pressed into her thigh as he carried her to the couch while kissing. 

“I’m gonna go clean up quickly.” He spoke against her lips after setting her down on the stark white couch. Maddie sunk down into the cushion and nodded sleepily, “Okay.” She couldn’t care that she was mostly naked, needing a second to herself.

And Cameron planned on only giving her a second before she’d go snooping through the place and realize he wasn’t the owner at all. His legs felt weak and wobbly as he ran into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wash his hands and face. He hoped that when he got back, Maddie would still be on the couch recovering and she wouldn’t have turned on any lights or go looking for his bedroom.

He zipped up his pants again and hurried back, finding her in the same position yet she felt a bit more awake. Madeleine attempted to cover herself up a bit as Chris reappeared, her eyes blinking at him. He forced her a small smile as he stood by the table, “Uh - need me to bring your clothes?”

Madeleine blushed stupidly, “Yes, please.” She breathed, holding her arms around her. Cameron nodded as he bent down, picking up the pieces of clothing and bringing them over to her before giving Maddie a bit of privacy to get dressed again.

Cameron nibbled his lip as he had his hands on his hips, his back to Maddie, “I actually have a super early morning tomorrow.” He lied, clearing his throat.

Madeleine stared at his back for a second, pausing with just one pant leg pulled up before she softly huffed and continued getting dressed, “Right.”

“Like - uh, meetings and stuff.” He breathed. Madeleine rolled her eyes as she zipped up her boots, “Chris, don’t worry. I’m leaving. You don’t have to kick me out.” Her voice sounded a little sharp and he pressed his lips together, knowing he was sort of fucking it up.

Cameron ran a hand through his hair, turning around to find Maddie fully dressed. She smoothed her hands over her clothes and straightened up, clearing her throat.

“I’ll walk you down.” Cameron muttered. Maddie wondered if this was what it was gonna be like for now. No matter how satisfying the sex was, this was horrible. He didn’t offer her a drink, or a place to stay, or even a little trip to the bathroom to clean herself up. Madeleine missed some romance, and her stomach felt tight when they both exited the apartment again.

It’s why she was extra surprised when Chris pulled her back in for a deep kiss once they were in the elevator. Madeleine’s eyes fluttered as she melted into him while the elevator took them back down. Her mind was spinning. She was tired, the alcohol was wearing off as was her confidence, and the one second Chris kicked her out while the other second, he had his tongue down her throat.

She squeaked in sensitivity when he cupped her ass, palming the skin over her pants where he had slapped her before. He groaned a little as she jerked from the touch, holding a hand on her ass and the other around her throat to gently keep her in place.

Maddie chased after him when Cameron pulled back, her gaze focussed on his wet lips. He swallowed as they broke apart again and he nudged her out of the elevator. Madeleine blinked as the cold air from the night hit her. She turned around to see Chris in the entryway of the apartment building, scratching the back of his neck, “Do I have to call a cab?” He softly asked.

Madeleine awkwardly stood there, unsure of what to make of his personality at this point. She pressed her lips together and shook her head, “No. It’s early enough that I can take the subway, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded. He forced her another small smile, “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Madeleine breathed before awkwardly waving, “Bye, Chris.”

“Bye.” He exhaled back before disappearing inside. 

Madeleine’s feet still killed her as she walked the streets, pulling out her phone to check for the closest subway station. She was still in her work attire, and it was over twelve hours since her shift ended and she was in desperate need of a shower and a good sleep.

She also decided - while walking towards the subway - that she’d agree to let her friend set her up. Liz and Micah had been begging Madeleine to let them set her up on multiple dates in the past, yet she always refused. She felt like she wasn’t ready and maybe she needed something lighter and easier than a serious relationship.

But if light and easy meant whatever tonight was, she didn’t want it. Madeleine craved closeness and proximity from her partner, not just sex. She wished she could be the one-night-stand kind of girl, but she simply wasn’t. The sex was incredible, but the tension afterwards just ruined it.

Meanwhile, Cameron was back in Mr. Olsen’s apartment to clean everything up and erase every trace of himself. He scrubbed the table he had fucked Maddie on and dusted off the couch a bit.

His work in this apartment was done, his project was finished. On Monday, Mr. Olsen returned to a freshly painted apartment and Cameron would move onto the next client who needed a painting job done. 

As instructed, Cameron left the key in the mailbox. Once outside, the sun was coming up. He checked his watch, knowing it was quite the drive towards his own place. His lip was between his teeth when Cameron hesitated taking out a cigarette, but he did so anyway. 

With the stick between his lips and a cloud of smoke trailing behind him, he walked in the direction of his van to sleep in his own bed for the night.

//

Hi :))

[eievuimemes]

PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974) SENTENCE STARTERS [SONGS EDITION] TW: Suicide mention

“_____'s sister needed an operation.”

“All my dreams are lost and I can't sleep.”

“All of us are glad you're gone.”

“Be no man's fool and be no man's brother.”

“He never knew his father; his mother didn’t bother to catch his last name.”

“He'll bring us to our knees in admiration.”

“I am your crime.”

“I can see that you're the devil's pride.”

“I couldn't set things right with apologies or flowers.”

“I defend my soul from those who would accuse me.”

“I finally lost control.”

“I have been the world and felt it turning.”

“I ran a light without my registration where the cops were bound to see.”

“I swore I'd sell my soul for one love who would stand by me.”

“I taste their victory and sin.”

“I thought I knew you but I didn't know you at all.”

“I was not myself last night.”

“I wonder what became of me.”

“I wound up on parole.”

“I'd sell my soul for one love who would sing my song and fill this emptiness inside me.”

“Is it someone calling me?”

“Lost a fight by a dude I should have beat.”

“Nobody likes you and you're better off dead.”

“On the street, a blow like that is stunning.”

“Our love is an old love.”

“Our paths have crossed and parted.”

“Salutations from the other side.”

“Sleep alone could ease my mind.”

“Slow down baby; you'll only get hurt if you fall.”

“That's what life is all about.”

“There'd be a man who could tell our story.”

“They scare me.”

“This love survives the ages.”

“We can't believe the price you paid for love.”

“We must still believe.”

“We need a man that is simple perfection.”

“We'll remember you forever.”

“We're all born to die alone.”

“We've all come to say goodbye.”

“We’d dream each other’s smile.”

“When a young singer dies, to our shock and surprise, in a plane crash or a flashy sports car, he becomes quite well-known.”

“While some grew wiser, you just grew older.”

“You gave all you could give, so your sister could live.”

“You had better start for home while there's still time.”

“You never listened anyway.”

“You told me one time that you'd be somebody.”

“You weren't working just to survive.”

“You're listening, but somehow you don't really hear.”

“You're working so hard that you don't even know you're alive.”

“Your pipe dreams have become obsessions.”

[brightlotusmoon]

You know that TMNT RP crossover I've been turning into a fic with @remmushound with a document that's literally 244145 words? I've been editing the document and I found a scene I wanted to share just because. Bay Mikey and Rise Leo having a chat.

-

A huge grin spread across Mikey’s face. “You know what, I bet our April would have done the exact same thing as your April at that age. But then she’d have to tell her dad because it’s his project.”

Leonardo hummed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met April’s dad. Or her mom. Or anyone in her family.”

Mikey pondered this. “Well. Humans are good at lying to each other, especially to protect others. She’s probably kept you guys away from them for her own reasons.”

“Yeah, Most likely. She helped Donnie get back home when night came, and she’s kept our secret since.”

“That’s our hogosha,” Mikey beamed. “In every world, April’s always our first human friend, our first real friend.”

“It’s good to know she’s a constant. I wouldn’t want a world without my sister.”

“Ditto,” Mikey said. “She’s our sister, our mom, our best friend. Casey gets there, in his own way. And hers.”

“She’s your sister-mom? Does she know about this?” Leonardo tried not to laugh.

Mikey chortled. “Yeah, we joked about it.”

“Heh. Of course! You gotta joke with your sister/mother about her status in the family!”

“Well, when she’s the first of her kind that you really get to know across all your timelines, you gotta figure out a bunch of different emotional boundaries. And by you I mean me. And sometimes Donnie. One time really Donnie.”

“Oooo? Spill!”

Mikey hummed. “Weeelll… in one reality she was a teenager like us and Donnie got this huge huge crush on her. Raph too, but it faded. Donnie just kept being awkward for, like, three years.”

“Ooooff. Ouch. Not your Donnie right?”

“Nah. Though me, I totally felt a little crush. Maybe he did too, but now they’re just best friends. Nerds.”

“Awww, you had a crush? That’s adorable. Try anything with my April and we won’t hesitate to send you to a Yokai ER.” Leonardo only half-joked.

Mikey held his hands up. “Dude, she could do that by herself. Don’t worry, no attraction.”

“Better not be, or she’ll turn you into Kame no sūpu! And Miguel will season you well!”

Mikey crossed his arms. “Bet I’d make a good soup, anyway, I know flavor.”

“Eh, mutagen might throw off the taste.”

“I bet it totally would.”

“What does mutagen even taste like…?”

Mikey tilted his head. “Vinegar,” he said distantly.

“…. That’s oddly specific.”

“I know. One of my past selves thought it tasted like vinegar.”

“….. he tasted it?”

Mikey sucked in a breath. “He… didn’t really mean to.”

“How does one do that accidentally?”

“He, uh…” Mikey was trying not to laugh. “He rubbed it on his face. He misread the label.”

“…that poor dude. But at least we know we can make deviled eggs with mutagen if we ever run out of vinegar.”

Mikey wrinkled his nose. “I guess…”

“…would eating mutagen turn someone into mutant? Or is it just blood-to-mutagen contact?”

Blinking, Mikey frowned. “Ya know what, I think it depends on the type and where it came from.”

“Yeah, let’s not tell Baron Draxum about that.”

“Not a fucking word.”

Leonardo made the motion of zipping his lips.

“That dude creeps all of me out.”

“He could make an army of cows by infecting the steak supply. We don’t need any more mutant pigs either.”

“Ugh, that’s a horror movie waiting to happen.”

“Night of the living steak. Ewhhhh.”

“Okay, now I’m grossed out.”

“You should be! That would just be horrifying!”

Mikey sighed. “A couple of our past selves would have called it Saturday morning.”

“You mean there’s worlds crazier than mine?”

Mikey grinned. “Just barely.”

-

[wanderingnork]

So college destroyed my ability to read books. I’m not alone—I’ve read a lot of articles about people emerging from reading-intensive periods in academic life and discovering that, despite having loved books all their life, just walking into a library can set off feelings of sadness, disgust, or panic. I didn’t have that happen, but I’ve spent the three years since leaving my master’s program virtually unable to pick up a book. College, where even as an undergraduate I was tearing through multiple books a week for certain classes, destroyed my ability to read. I even quit reading fanfiction.

I don’t think the reading climate on social media was in my favor here. Book checklists and challenges to read enormous numbers of books quickly, fixation on specific genres that I’m not interested in anyway, book recs that relied on character identities instead of talking about the plot, books used as weapons of moral superiority—none of that is conducive to actually reading, for someone struggling. Seeing people be judged as bad for choosing to read or not read certain genres, be scolded for not reading “enough,” or be told that there were no excuses for struggling made things worse.

But to my absolute joy, it seems to finally be coming back. I find myself actually wanting to read! I’m able to focus on words! I’m leaning on recommendations from people who know my tastes, narrative nonfiction, and shorter, easier, well-loved books from when I was a kid. And for the first time in years, I’m enjoying reading.

I have a hold on a book at the library, I’m listening to one audiobook series on the way to work, and I’m listening to a different series at work. According to Libby, I’ve somehow read almost a dozen new books since last September. My “marked for later” list on AO3 is extensive. I read a book from cover to cover in one day last week! A kids’ novel, yeah, but last year at this time I would’ve blanked out by the end of the first page.

It feels really fucking good. It’s not like I didn’t get any stories while I was on a reading hiatus, I watched so many horror movies of so many genres and obviously I was up to my eyes in Dragon Age, but…I missed books. I missed this particular way of telling stories. Even with nonfiction, I want things written in the style someone would write a fictional narrative.

Yes, it’s still hard. It took me a month to finish one novel because I kept having to put it down. Reading an anthology of short stories requires taking breaks. I can’t retain half of what I hear from an audiobook. Picking up a nonfiction book that got too close to my degree just about gave me a panic attack. But…none of that stopped me this time. I just want to keep reading again.

I think I’m finally healing from the damage college did to me. And I love it.