#and he just stood there! in silence! Didn't say a single thing about how much we'd have to write for the midterm

[nottheletterkay]

Songbird

“I’m not special. Not like her.”

“You’re not,” he said quickly, definitively.

“You’re special like you.”

Chapter 1

“Mom, we’ve been over this.” 

You exhaled for what felt like the millionth time when, in reality, you’ve only been on the phone with your mother for maybe twenty minutes.

“I’m just saying, honey, New York? You’ve lived a lot of places— dreamed about living a lot of places, and New York has never been on either of those lists,” she continued. “And it’s so far away…”

You could hear the irritation in her voice, but, even moreso, the sadness.

You rubbed at your face and threw your head back in silent frustration before proceeding with as much empathy and understanding as you could muster.

“Look, Mom, I know it isn’t ideal, but this will be really good for Maevis. I’ve done the research, I’ve saved the money, I’ve almost packed everything up– alone, as a single mother, might I add,” you sprinkled in that last part for comedic relief.

Based on her silence, it didn't quite land.

“It’s what’s best for her,” you concluded gently.

You could practically hear the gears turning in her head over the phone.

“I’m not saying I don’t want the absolute best for my grandbaby, but, come on. She’s barely five years old! Can’t the fancy, expensive, oh-so-far-away-from-your-family boarding schools wait until she’s at least in the double digits?”

That made you giggle, but you stood your ground. “This will be good for her, I promise. You’ll see.”

Your mind began to wander as you packed the last box in you and your daughter’s small apartment.

The truth is, your mother wouldn’t see-- not the real ways this new school would really be helping her granddaughter, anyway. 

See, you hadn’t actually done any research, and this wasn’t costing you anything, thank goodness, at least as far as tuition is concerned. In fact, you hadn’t heard of this school at all before Charles Xavier had found you.

Before he’d found Maevis.

She was so young. 

She was so young and what you knew about mutants was so scarce.

At first, it was easy to dismiss the early signs. To rationalize the flickering lights during bedtime temper tantrums. To convince yourself that it was certainly within the realm of her physical capabilities to throw a sippy cup at that velocity and distance after you had denied her another cookie. That was the only explanation as to how it could have ended up all the way across the kitchen in tiny, plastic shards… 

Right?

It wasn’t until the last couple of months that you’d finally admitted to yourself that Maevis’ behavior was something different.

Something special.

The times between her outbursts were growing shorter, and the destruction that took place during, becoming more profound.

You scolding her in the car turned into blinking, dysfunctional traffic lights. Telling her she couldn’t buy a toy at the store resulted in entire product displays toppling over. There were only so many times you could apologize to the store clerks for “being clumsy.”

Then there were  the more peculiar things, the things you knew there were no logical explanation for– the times you could not only perceive Maevis’ emotions, but could physically feel them. 

When she’d fallen off of her bike and you hurried to scoop her scared, crying frame, you swore you’d felt that scrape on your knee, too.

Or when you caught her trying to hide the potted plant she’d accidentally knocked over and reached for you in apology, it was her shame that coursed through your body.

It wasn’t normal. None of it was.

And that didn't matter to you because what was “normal,” anyway?

Your daughter was special.

But, even so, you couldn’t deny the fact that whatever was happening with Maevis was intensifying, and quickly, and you couldn’t ignore the fact that she could hurt someone else or herself.

You had to do something, you just didn’t know what.

That’s why when Professor Charles Xavier showed up at your doorstep that day, with that gorgeous, regal woman you’d come to know as Dr. Jean Grey, you knew in your bones there was no other option.

You hadn’t explained any of this to your mother, of course. How could you when you didn’t even understand it yourself? You would wait until you and Maevis were settled, until there was some semblance of understanding and control and routine and—

“Fine.” You startled at the sound of your mother’s voice, her words cutting your trip down memory lane rather short.

“I trust you. I’m just going to miss my girls, that’s all.”

“We’re gonna miss you, too, Mom,” you assured her. You really did understand her concern.

“But you can visit as much as you like, you know. Phoenix and New York City have some pretty accessible airports,” you joke nervously.

“Just, like, when we’re all settled in and I’m comfortable in my new classroom and all that,” you add a little too quickly.

You really did want her to visit, just… maybe not anytime soon.

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“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mumble under your breath as you approach the ancient, but, admittedly, beautiful stone building.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

You giggled at the school’s name, propping your daughter a little higher on your hip. “Well, Maeve, you are a ‘youngster,’ that’s for sure.”

And she was.

In fact, according to Professor Xavier, she would the youngest student the school has had in… well, ever.

You recall your first conversation the two of you ever had.

You were in somewhat of a haze, trying to process all of the information the two strangers had just provided you with.

You had heard about mutants, of course, anyone with a television or ears had. But you’d never considered that you’d given birth to one.

At least, not until now.

 “I- I really appreciate what you’re trying to do here, Professor Xavier, but I-” you started, but honestly didn’t know where the sentence was going to end.

“Charles,” he corrected warmly. You tried your best to appear polite and collected as you continued to respond.

“Right, yes. Charles.” It sounded a bit strange addressing him so informally, especially after only having known him for, what? Maybe an hour?

“Again, I really appreciate this— Maevis and I both do, and I know shecould use the guidance, I just… I mean, do you even have a kindergarten at this school of yours?”

You understood how important it was for your daughter to receive guidance on her mutation; it wasn’t something you or any other neurotypical facility could offer her.

But the teacher in you– the mother in you–  couldn’t help but wonder about her academic and social development. She needed to be around kids her age, learning the same things they were.

Mutation or not, that was important, too, right?

“Of course it’s important, dear.”

You startled at the sound of Professor Xavier’s voice.

You didn’t say that out loud, did you?

With furrowed eyebrows, you started, “I’m sorry, did I-”

He only chuckled at your confusion. “No, you didn’t say that out loud. Reading the minds of others is one of my mutations,” the Professor explained, except you were watching his face the entire time and his mouth didn’t move a muscle.

Your eyebrows shot up in– what? Disbelief? Offense?

“I do apologize,” he started.

All you could do was blink at the man decidedly not talking to you.

“I try not to make a habit of reading the thoughts of those around me without their consent.”

You nodded skeptically as he continued and added half-heartedly, “and what about talking inside of their heads? Do you make a habit out of that?”

He found your sense of humor in what he considered to be a very heavy, very tricky situation, endearing.

“I do not,” he chuckled and continued, actually speaking this time. “But you’re right. Her academic and social development are just as important as refining her gift. And although she is the youngest student the academy will have ever enrolled, I can promise you we have the means to provide the resources that any child of her age could possibly require.”

He seemed so sure, so confident in this proposition.

You wish you could say the same about yourself.

He slowly inched closer to you before speaking again. 

“I understand your apprehension, but, surely, we can’t send her off to school down the street where she’ll be telekinetically tossing toys off of shelves in the classroom, or forcing her emotions onto every peer she so much as disagrees with on the playground,” Charles waved his hands in slight amusement.

You chewed your lip anxiously as you considered this.

You knew he was right.

But he said she was the youngest mutant to ever be offered enrollment at his school– the youngest mutant he, or anyone, has ever heard of manifesting their powers so early, period. If there weren’t any kids her own age at school, would she ever be able to be around normal kids her own age without risking hurting them?

Without risking hurting herself? 

Your heart sank at the true fear that had been festering deep within you since Maevis’ very first display of power.

Would she ever feel normal if you did this?

Would she ever feel normal at all?

You could feel your heart racing at the thought of all of this going painfully south.

“She will be able to be around kids her own age,” the Professor said, once again, snapping you out of your anxious spiraling.

“Think of this as…” he looked around the room, trying to come up with the words to convince you, “ a specialized homeschooling program. Dr. Grey and Ms. Munroe will teach her everything she needs to know, including that of a typical kindergarten academic curriculum, and as soon as she’s ready, we’ll make sure she is able to join her peers out there.” He motioned to the window displaying the outside of your apartment building as he said this, but his words implied a space much vaster.

You churned in consideration, but didn’t speak just yet.

“It’s what is safest for everyone. It’s what is safest for Maevis,” Professor Xavier emphasized.

You continued to bite your lip, glancing behind Professor Xavier at Dr. Grey, who only sat quietly with a look of never-ending patience upon her face.

Her demeanor is what finally had you nodding in agreement.

“Plus," the Professor added, "you’ll be at the academy, teaching just a few halls down. You’ll be there every step of the way.”

He’s right. This is what’s safest for everyone. For Maevis.

It’s what’s best for Maevis.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Both Professor Xavier and Dr. Grey smiled, and the genuine relief and joy you saw in their faces sort of made your chest ache. 

“This is what’s best for Maevis,” you repeated in your head.

“But,” you added, gaining the shocked attention of your guests, “ if we do this, please, ‘try not to read my mind without my consent’ anymore,” you quipped, only half joking. 

The Professor chuckled at that.

“Of course, dear.”

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“Oh, it is so good to see you again!” Dr. Grey said earnestly, squeezing your shoulder in a way that made you feel slightly more at ease.

She turned to Maevis.

“And it’s good to see you again, too, you gorgeous girl.”

She clung to you rather tightly, but she still greeted Dr. Grey warmly, reaching for her face.

You panicked suddenly, not wanting Jean to be overwhelmed with whatever rollercoaster of emotions Maevis might be feeling right now.

It wasn’t a constant transfer of energy, but it was a powerful one.

“Oh, no, sweetie, remember, we can’t touch people’s bodies without asking them,” you gently remind her. She retracted her hand sadly, but you reassured her.

“It’s okay, Maev. But remember boundaries? We just have to be careful,” you tell her softly, nudging your nose gently against hers.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, almost ashamedly. “I’m sorry.”

Dr. Grey was watching the entire interaction affectionately. “That’s okay, Maevis,” she said. “Your mother is right,” she continued, looking between the two of you. “It is important to remember people’s boundaries, especially your own. You should always ask before you enter someone’s personal space.”

Maevis only nodded shyly in agreement.

“But,” Dr. Grey  added, “if it’s okay with you, and your mother, I would like for you to tell me hello again– the way you were going to.”

Both Dr. Grey  and Maevis were looking to you for approval now. “Oh. I mean…” You were nervous and you couldn’t pinpoint why. This is what you were here for– what Maevis was here for, right?

“I mean, of course,” you said. “As long as you’re comfortable with it, Maev,” you looked at her, waiting.

Maevis looked between the two of you before speaking. “I’m comfortable,” she said, reaching for Dr. Grey’s face again. “I can show you my feelings.”

You smiled. Something about her referring to this part of her mutation as “showing her feelings” always felt so innocent. So delicate. Like there was no part of this that was dangerous or unmanageable.

Of course, that wasn’t reality.

As soon as Maevis’ hand touched Dr. Grey’s face, it was like she was somewhere else– lost in her mind.

Or, rather, Maevis’ mind.

A small smile spread across her face as she gripped the tiny hand that was touching her cheek a little tighter.

Finally, Maevis retracted.

“Incredible,” Dr. Grey said, breathless. “You are a very special person, Maevis.”

Your daughter only smiled and nuzzled into your neck.

“She is,” you agreed, smiling.

“And we here at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters are thrilled to, not only have her as a pupil, but to have her remarkable mother teaching at the institute as well.”

You turned around to follow Dr. Grey’s gaze, not surprised to see Professor Xavier gliding across the large foyer to greet you. 

You smiled, “Hello, Professor. Say hello, Maevis,” you say, waving your hand in example.

“Hi, Charles,” you daughter smiled and did the same. Professor Xavier returned the gesture before adding, “At least one of you remembered to call me Charles,” he said.

You both chuckled at that before he continued.

“We are so happy you’re here with us, dear,” he said with that same genuineness he had at your first meeting.

Before you could respond, assuring him that you were just as happy to be here, he continued.

“There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

You almost didn’t notice the two people next to him, which was shocking, considering one of them was the most breathtaking woman– all dark skin, crystal eyes, and hair white as snow, and the other is probably the largest man you’ve ever seen in person.

“What a hot couple,” you think to yourself.

The gorgeous woman extends her hand, an unsurprisingly perfect smile aimed directly at you.

“Hey, there. I’m Ororo Munroe, but the kids like to call me Storm. I’ll be Maevis’ primary educator during her time here at the academy.”

You shake her hand and introduce yourself before she turns her attention to the little girl in your arms.

“And you must be the lady of the hour, “ Ms. Munroe says to Maevis brightly. “I am so happy to meet you, sweetie. I’ll be your new teacher.”

Maevis is anything but reserved, so she takes to her almost immediately.

You wondered if it’s her extroverted nature that makes all of this go smoothly, or if there’s some unspoken tether that mutants feel between one another. 

That would make sense, especially in an evolutionary regard. It could be why Maevis has been so inexplicably drawn to Dr. Grey since meeting her.

You try to ignore the unexpected twinge you feel in your stomach at that thought.

You’re pulled out of this strange line of thinking at the sound of the tree trunk of a man now speaking. 

“I’m Logan.”

He doesn’t extend a hand.

In fact, he doesn’t make a move to do or say anything more, and you kind of just stand there expectantly.

You figured, if he’s as friendly as everyone else you’ve met so far, he might throw in a, “nice to meet you”?

A school title?

A cool, somewhat unnecessary superhero nickname?

As if reading your mind, he adds, “Logan’s fine.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in realization.

“Wait, can you read minds, too?” you ask.

Storm, Charles, and Jean all laugh, but Logan only half-smiles. 

“No, he’s just a smartass,” Ms. Munroe chides, then immediately covers her mouth, eyes darting between you and Maevis.

“I am so sorry. Oh my gosh, little ears! I haven’t been around a child this young in… well, like, ever. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes go even wider somehow and she smacks herself in the forehead.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I truly didn’t even realize I cursed this much,” she all but screams, then turns to her friends. “How come none of you told me I had such a potty mouth?!”

You’re full on giggling now as you reach with your free had to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay! Seriously, it’s okay. I don’t always have the most restraint around her, either, and I’m her mother. Unfortunately, she has heard worse,” you laugh and feel relieved when the Professor, Dr. Grey, and Ms. Munroe all laugh alongside you and don’t give you that stuffy, judgey look that most people do when you accidentally (or not so accidentally) curse around your daughter.

You all chat for a few more minutes, everyone’s excitement becoming more apparent. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Logan seemed uninterested, to say the least. This didn’t necessarily bother you, though; you understood that not everyone is experienced with or comfortable around children. You weren’t going to fault him for that if that were the case. 

It just confused you more than anything. 

Ms. Munroe would be leading Maev’s academics, Dr. Grey would be her mentoring her in her mutation, Professor Xavier had sought the two of you out and was acting Dean of the school— everyone had their purpose, so it seemed.

So what was Logan’s?

“I’m here to help you get settled in.”

You blinked in surprise.

How did he do that?

“You’re really not reading my mind?” you ask, skeptically.

He almost laughed at that.

“Doesn’t take a telepath to recognize a confused stare,” he replied.

He voice was gruff, but his tone was light.

That didn’t stop your face from heating up with embarrassment, though.

Were you really staring?

“Logan teaches history in the classroom adjacent to yours,” Professor Xavier added. 

“A perfect fit, considering he was alive for most of it,” Dr. Grey prodded, nudging Logan slightly in the ribs.

He scoffed while everyone else chuckled and looked down at her with a soft smile.

The way she was gazing up at him made you think maybe he and Ms. Munroe were, in fact, not the hot couple in this equation.

“Your and Maevis’ new living quarters are also located in the same wing of the mansion as his. I figured it was most logical for him to help you get adjusted, “ Charles finished.

“That, and his welcoming personality,” Ms. Munroe added, faux excitement absolutely dripping with sarcasm, clapping Logan on the shoulder in jest.

You smiled, admiring the relationship between the four of them, affectionate and comfortable.

Even Logan in his own reserved, somewhat brooding way.

Although their histories, both individual and relational, were unclear to you, they were a family, you could see that.

Anyone could.

Dr. Grey suddenly made a surprised sound.

“Oh, shoot!” she said, collecting herself. “I have session with a student in less than five minutes— I should get going.”

You mouthed a wordless, “oh,” in understanding, adjusting Maevis to rest on your other hip.

Goodness, she’s getting so big.

Turning to the two of you, she continues, “Again, we are so happy to have you. All of this is just such a gift,” she says with that sincere tone that makes you want to burst into tears.

She murmurs her goodbye to the others, walking away, lightly squeezing Logan’s abnormally large bicep on the way.

“Professor, we should really get going, too if we’re going to make it to New Student Orientation on time, “ says Ms. Munroe.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Xavier agrees, repositioning his chair. “Well, dear, I hope you enjoy getting acquainted with the mansion. And please let me know if you or Maevis need anything at all.”

He turns to look at Logan, the two of them locking eyes momentarily as if having a fleeting, silent conversation of their own. 

Which, you now realize, is totally possible.

As the Professor fades into the distance of the ever-growing hallway, you feel a stiff, awkward tension begin to form between you and Logan.

He isn’t nearly as welcoming or chatty as the others, and you know yourself. If you sit in this uncomfortable silence for too long, you’re going to start rambling and its going to be painful for everyone.

“I can show you your room,” Logan interrupts your self-deprecating line of thinking, grabbing the suitcase at your side and starting off without so much as a word to you or Maev.

You pucker your lips in submission.

“Cool. Right behind you,” you mutter a little sarcastically.

Maevis giggles and mimics you a little louder: “Cool! Right behind you!”

You can’t help but laugh with her as you follow Logan down the long hall, up the winding stairs, and into your new life.

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This is my first marvel fanfiction! It's definitely going to be a series, I just don't know how long yet. Ahh, hope you like it so far.

[melonpond]

writing papers my beloathed

[cyberjam]

ATSV HEADCANON: they get jealous . . . ☆

warnings - mainly just fluff, maybe a hint of yandere if you squint, insecurities, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n or reader, and jealousy from our fave spiders.

word count - 2.4k

main masterlist <33 | proof read?: yes.

based off of this request: jealous hc !!

. . . ☆ miles morals!e-1610

He'll try and ignore the nasty feeling of jealousy but it's tough when all he can think about is how joyous you look spending time with another guy that isn't him.

It slowly eats away at him the more time you two spend away from each other, and sooner or later you'd notice the change in his demeanor. He was quieter, his greetings weren't the same, and his energy constantly seemed low. Every time you said something he'd reply with a simple hum of acknowledgment and if you were trying to cheer him up with a corny joke the only thing you'd receive was a faulty breath from his lips and a lopsided grin.

His hugs weren't bone-crushing anymore, his texts were in one-words, and even when you two shared a class he acted different. Instead of the usual passing notes and quiet laughter at inside jokes, he simply turned his body towards the window and stayed quiet. He didn't spare a single glance in your direction until the bell rang. Even then he didn't look at you, blankly staring at the floor while gathering his things and blearily walking out with slouched shoulders.

So many confusing thoughts and hurt feelings from made-up scenarios circled around his brain. He wanted to talk to you so badly and just make sure everything was okay. He just didn't know how to approach it, so it continued to eat at him until you confronted him about it.

You saw him walking his usual route towards his place and couldn't help but chase him down. You constantly pestered him and asked him questions to get to the root of the problem but all he did was respond with simple phrases like "I'm fine.", "M' just tired.", and "Nah, I'm good."

Your dedication and unwillingness to let him go home angry finally paid off when he snapped. His words jumbling and his hands flailing in the air as he unleashed every thought and feeling that led to that moment.

Once he finished his rant, you two stood across from each other in complete silence. His chest lifted up and down as if he was exhausted. No words could come to your mouth, but your legs moved without hesitation and before you knew it your arms engulfed him in a tight hug. You felt bad for not being able to express how you felt in words but all miles needed was reassurance and your arms being wrapped around him was more than enough.

. . . ☆ miles morales! e-42

Miles is very straight-forward and blunt. He speaks his mind, which can be a blessing and a curse. With his over-protective nature and blank-like expressions he's more intimidating than most, especially when confronting people he thinks are getting too chummy with you. If a guy is checking you out, miles will speak up before you even notice. "ay, you got a starin' problem or sum?" in situations like these he tends to get touchier with you. Either resting a hand on your hip or hanging his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

Miles has a certain phrase that he says whenever you scold him for being so confrontational. "They gon have to get through me to get to you." and he tends to stand on that word.

Miles isn't shy of confronting people, or even using violence when it comes down to it. He prefers to handle situations like these with as least violence as possible. He doesn't want to subject you to that kind of thing, if anything he wants to keep you away from it. It's why he's so protective of you and also why you don't know he's the prowler.

You were walking home late at night all by yourself, and as much as you wanted miles to be there with you, he couldn't. You texted him letting him know you'd be staying late after school because of a project. He mentioned how he wouldn't want you walking home by yourself, especially so late at night. So, he decided he'd drive you back home on his motorcycle.

But when the time came for him to pick you up, you were left stranded. He never returned your countless calls or text messages which led into you walking back home all by yourself. Uncomfortable would be an understatement to describe the way you felt as you whisked your way passed sketchy groups of people with your head down. You took shortcuts and turned into ally's to get away from any potential threats not knowing you'd walk right into the hands of one.

A tall lanky man with sunken eyes somehow cornered you in-between the brick wall of a random apartment complex. You were terrified. Your legs grew weak, and your nose started to sting in warning of the incoming tears. All you could do was push your body as far as you possibly could into the wall behind you. Desperately hoping it would engulf you and take you as far away as possible from the situation.

You shut your eyes, bracing for whatever torturous impact to come. Fortunately, it never did. Instead you felt a swift gust of wind past you and the sound of a hard thud paired with a low groan. You cracked your eyes open only to see the mask of the most-feared vigilante in New York. He walked closer and closer until he was finally hovering over you, his mask nearly touching your nose.

As you stood frozen in shock, a clawed hand rested next to your face. "What I say? They gotta get through me to get to you."

. . . ☆ gwen stacy

Gwen is a liar. You can ask her if she's jealous and she'd respond with a scoff and wobbly smirk, scratching the side of her head before replying with something along the lines of "Jealous? No, way." when in reality she's seething. She wants to be completely secure and unbothered like Hobie, but there's always this nagging voice in the back of her head that fills her with annoyance and bitterness.

When someone shows any type of romantic interest in you she'll get tense and her cool facade will be replaced by her visible discomfort. She knows you love her and is continuously reminded when you shut down any confessions, but that painful uneasiness still comes no matter what.

Depending on what mood she's in that day she'll either tense up and shy away from the situation or desperately try to avert your attention back to her.

When one of your classmates walks up to you complimenting you and eyeing you up and down, Gwen's hand that was loosely holding yours fell to her side before returning to her jacket pocket. Her shoulders squared to her ears as she quietly sighed and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She avoided eye-contact with you and the person, choosing to look around the hallway as if she wasn't eaves-dropping into the conversation. (she was)

Once the person leaves she'll grab your hand and start pulling you towards the exit "that was weird, right?" she'd murmured half-jokingly while nudging her shoulder with yours.

The next time you and that person interact is when Gwen is over your place. Once you excuse yourself from the conversation and take the call from your classmate, Gwen once again gets antsy. But she's much more combative this time around. She'll snatch her drumsticks up and start tapping on any and all surfaces she can reach. Calling out your name to get your attention so you can focus on her instead of your classmate.

All in all it really depends on what mood you catch her in. She can either be awkward and tense or combative and loud. At the end of the day all she wants is your attention.

. . . ☆ pavitr prabhakar

Pavitr is quite secure in himself and in the relationship, but he does get jealous on occasion. Never from a situation of you simply getting hit on or someone complimenting you, more so from his own insecurities and made-up scenarios that he plays in his head.

He enjoys the time you two have together fully enveloped in each others presence. So, when that time gets interrupted by someone he gets sulky. Time is already very limited for pavitr. With school and his spider duties on top of it he doesn't have as much time to spend with you as he wants. So once he gets you alone he doesn't want a single distraction to interrupt your private time.

A part of him feels guilty that he isn't able to spend much time with you. He has a small insecurity that pops up every now and then, telling himself that you deserve someone who's more attentive and available to your needs. He wants to be that man for you but his responsibilities prevent him from doing so.

You've already mentioned to Pav that you understand he's a busy man with a hefty schedule, so any time you two spend together is valued and cherished. It makes him happy that you're so forgiving and transparent but that doesn't stop the self-shaming thoughts of how bad of a boyfriend he sometimes thinks he is.

Pavitr has a habit of getting you gifts. When his guilty conscience is eating at him for missing out on a romantic date or simple hangout, he tends to buy you more gifts than usual. A single rose will turn into a bouquet, A cute hand-beaded bracelet will turn into a full jewelry set, a bedazzled headband will turn into multiple hair scrunchies and a full pack of hair care.

Once you've noticed this habit you were quick to shut it down, you didn't want him spending money every time he felt bad for having to bail and do his spider duties.

All he needs is to be pampered and reminded that what you want is him, and only him. Tell him how much you adore him and smuggle him in affection. Whether it be words of affirmation, quality time, or physical touch, Pavitr will immediately be putty in your hands. Just being engulfed by you and having you dote on him will immediately wash away any and all bad thoughts.

. . . ☆ hobie brown

Hobie doesn't really get jealous. He's extremely secure in himself and the relationship. If you're the type of person who likes to flirt for fun or is just naturally flirty, he wouldn't even bat an eye at you coyly chatting with another person.

Hobie knows you only have eyes for him so he never gets defensive or jealous by your coquettish attitude with others. You know where home is and at the end of the day you always return. But that's only with flirting. If you tend to get touchy or make-out with other people then he would get annoyed and slightly agitated. Especially if you'd established there was something between you two.

He wouldn't particularly mind other people flirting with you unless someone was genuinely being creepy and overbearing. He wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable for any reason in any situation. So, seeing you nervously fiddle with your hands or curl into yourself when certain advances were made would enrage him to an extent. These are the times Hobie will take on a more defensive/protective role.

He doesn't get into many brawls (mainly because he doesn't have to) He's quite intimidating so when he tells someone to back down they're gonna back down, quickly and efficiently. If anyone had the balls to step to Hobie in a threatening way they'd def be met with more than they could handle.

But in most situations Hobie usually just plays along with the flirting. He knows you're a good piece of eye-candy so it's not surprising to him whenever you get hit on. His chest also can't help but swell in pride when you mention that you have a partner, who just so happens to be Hobie.

Imagine you're both at the pub. Sitting at the bar, and leaning into each other with lovesick smiles. The sweet exchange of teasing words was interrupted by the gruff voice of the bartender setting down an alcoholic drink you weren't really familiar with. "Compliments from the gentleman over there." he murmured, tilting his head towards a man who sat across the bar. Before you could even fully react Hobie grabbed the glass and downed it within seconds. "Cheers, mate." he responded with a smile while lifting the glass in the air.

You just grow to love and laugh at his antics.

. . . ☆ miguel o'hara

You'll know he's jealous. Miguel is very obvious when he's bothered by something, even when he tries to hide it.

His movements are more stiff than usual and if you're close enough you can hear him lowly spitting profanities in his native tongue. Not to mention when he gets jealous to the point he's genuinely angry his claws will shoot out. There are multiple claw marks on couches and different desks at the headquarters that have yet to be fixed.

He angry pouts but he doesn't really know it. Whenever you're having a conversation with someone and it's prolonged for a little too long or the person you're speaking to is showing some type of interest in you, Miguel will just tower over you from behind with crossed arms and an annoyed look. as he stares the person down.

You're the most important thing in Miguel's life. He's already lost so much in different lifetimes and a part of him feels like he should live his life alone, suffering without a family or a lover simply because he feels like he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you.

There will be times where he tries to push you away, a part of him feels like if he pushes you away enough and tries to emotionally disconnect from the relationship you leaving him won't hurt as much. You have to be patient and reassure him that you're not going anywhere. The only reason he does stuff like that is because a small part of him genuinely believes you'll leave him at some point.

He tends to be overbearing when he gets jealous. Pushing you behind him when someone starts to be a bit suggestive, staring down anyone who he thinks is getting too comfortable with you, and butting in convos to speak for you when he's close to going over the edge.

Miguel can be overprotective and extremely overbearing at times, but it's always because he has your best interest in mind. He needs you in his life and to keep you he will deflect any and all threats that try and take you away.

A/N🪷: whenever i think of e-42 miles the killmonger music starts playing in my head lol

this was also a little rushed because i've been busy with work and im a little sleep-deprived, BUT i will come back with another fic soon <3 ty lovelies :)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

[anniebeemine]

genius 2.0- s.r x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer can't believe his son takes after him so much, maybe a little too much.

warnings: none :), slight implications of what Spencer went through in school

“Mom!”

You stilled your shoes off, barely able to close the door before your son, Sebastian, tackled you into a hug. “Mom!”

“Hey, bud,” you greeted, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He pulled back, his chin resting on your front as he wrapped his arms around you. “Did you know that some species of sharks can live up to 100 years?" Sebastian said, his eyes bright with curiosity.

You smiled and ruffled his hair. “I did not know that.”

He detached himself from you. “Their metabolism is really slow, so it attributes to their age.”

Spencer looked around the corner and smiled. "Hey, sweetheart. How was the parent-teacher conference?"

You placed your bag on the counter and walked over to give Spencer a quick kiss on the cheek. "It was great! Mrs. Anderson had a lot to say about Sebastian." You dropped your voice as Sebastian excused himself to wash his hands. “You and I have a lot to discuss,” you grinned.

Spencer perked up an eyebrow. He served three plates, handing two of them to you. You placed one in front of Sebastian. Throughout dinner, the father son duo liked to talk. Sebastian often had a list of topics to discuss, things that he wanted to hear his parents’ opinions on. So, the two of you answered his questions every single night while he ate with one hand and scribbled down the answers with the other.

At the end of the meal, Sebastian placed his empty plate in the sink. He washed his hands and stood behind his chair for a moment. “I’m going to go to my room.”

“Okay, bud,” Spencer smiled. “Go ahead.”

You giggled as he left, brown curls bouncing up the stairs. “He’s so much like you,” you sighed, pushing some lettuce back and forth on the plate. “I’m so lucky to have two.”

Spencer smiled softly, leaning back in his chair. "What did Mrs. Anderson say?"

"She thinks Sebastian can take an exam to skip the fifth grade. He's already reading far ahead for his age group," you explained, watching Spencer's face carefully.

Spencer began clearing the table, barely responding. "That's...impressive," he said, his voice subdued. He pointed to your plate. "Are you done?"

You nodded, watching as he left everythingin the sink while he took out the garbage. You sighed and got up to finish the dishes, the clinking of plates filling the silence. After drying your hands, you went upstairs and found Spencer in Sebastian's room, thumbing through a book while Seb arranged his toys.

"Hey," you said softly, stepping inside. "Everything okay?"

Spencer looked up, his eyes thoughtful. "Yeah, I was just thinking." He rolled out of the bed, going over to his son. "Can we talk about something?"

Sebastian turned around, leaning against his toy chest while sitting on the floor. You stood by the closet door. "Sebastian-"

"I didn't mean to break it!" He blurted, cheeks pink.

You furrowed your brows. "Break what?"

"Nothing," he lied. Surely, it wouldn't be long to find the broken item. "What are we talking about?"

You told him about the meeting, praising him for being so far ahead of his classmates. "And we were wondering how you'd feel about going straight to the sixth grade."

"Sebastian, how would you feel about skipping the fifth grade?" Spencer asked, his voice calm but his eyes watching his son intently.

Sebastian's eyes widened with excitement. "Really? I can skip a grade? That sounds amazing! I want to do it, Dad!"

Spencer nodded. "We'll set up the meeeting for you to take that test."

After saying goodnight to Sebastian and making sure he was settled, you went to your room to find Spencer sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His shoulders were tense, and you could see he was fighting back tears.

"Spence?" you said softly, walking over and sitting beside him. "What's wrong?"

Spencer took a deep breath, his voice shaky. "I'm afraid, Y/N. I spent years being tormented. I don't want Sebastian to go through that." He sniffed. "I don't want him to grow up."

You reached out and gently lifted his chin so he could look at you. His eyes were red and glassy, filled with a pain that reached deep into his past. "Spencer, I know it was hard for you, but Sebastian has us. He has a support system that you didn't have. We'll make sure he's okay."

Spencer nodded, tears spilling over despite his efforts to hold them back. "I just want him to be happy and not have to deal with what I did. The loneliness, the bullying... It was relentless."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "He's going to be okay, Spence."

Spencer clung to you, his body trembling. "I remember being so excited, just like Sebastian, and then...everything changed. Kids can be so cruel, Y/N. I don’t want him to lose his spark."

You stroked his back soothingly, your heart aching for him. "We'll talk to him about what to expect, and we'll be there for him if he needs us. We can also talk to the school, make sure they’re prepared to support him too."

Spencer pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You don't have to do it without me. We're in this together, always."

Spencer nodded, a small smile breaking through his tears. "Together, always."

He leaned into your embrace, and you held him tightly, feeling the weight of his fears slowly lifting. "Sebastian is lucky to have you as a dad," you murmured. "He’s going to thrive, and we’ll make sure he’s happy and safe."

Spencer sighed, the tension easing from his body. "I just want to protect him from everything."

"I know," you said softly. "And we will. One step at a time, we’ll guide him through this. He's strong, like his dad."

Spencer chuckled softly, wiping his eyes. "He's stronger because he has you too." Spencer's breathing steadied, and he rested his head against yours. "You know, I used to think I had to do everything alone. But with you, I don't feel that way anymore. You've shown me what it means to be a team, to share the burdens and the joys."

As you both sat there, holding each other in the quiet of your room, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together.

[happy74827]

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley."

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

[cerisereids]

𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟰]

masterlist, part one, part two, part three

wc- 5.2k

pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader

summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

warnings- swearing, mentions of nudity, we finally find out what happened in new york, one thing about me is my ass loves a simile, make ups all around!!!

a/n- the last part of this series is finally here!! thank you all for the endless support for this series, it means the world to me. enjoy!

The overhead light of your father's kitchen beats down in the middle of the table, the rays acting as a golden barrier between you two. He's just across the table from you, but he may as well be a million miles away. Guilt seeps through your every pore as your father's disappointment radiates through you. It's been a week since he caught you with Aaron, a case taking him away soon after that gloomy morning in the kitchen. You pick at your food, sliding it around your plate with your fork until your father speaks first.

"How long was it going to take?" he mumbles, and your head shoots up. He continues at your furrowed brow, "how long was it going to take to tell me you were sleeping with Aaron?"

The confrontation of your actions shock your nervous system, panic seizing each organ in your body. Your forehead falls into the crook of your neck, your cheeks heating at an ungodly temperature. "I'm so sorry, Papà-"

"Nuh-uh," he cuts you off, waving his fork at you, eyes dark and stormy, "don't 'Papà' me, do you have any idea that your actions have consequences, young lady?"

A pit of guilt sinks deep in your stomach, like you're 16 again and got busted sneaking in after a kegger. Only this time, you're grown, no teenage angst to fall back on as a result of your actions.

"Dad-" you try, but he's not having it.

"Did you tell him what ran you out of New York City? Why not a single publishing company will work with you?" he accuses.

Your heart stops, cheeks heating to an insane degree. Acid gurgles in your stomach as you go over the events that led you back to Virginia, your heart anxiously pounding.

"That's a no," he huffs out in annoyance, and frustration constricts your throat as he stands up to put his plate in the sink.

"Dad, I'm-"

He whips around to face you. "You're what? Sorry? You're my daughter, which means that I'm here to support you no matter what, but not when you lie to me. Not about this," he shakes his head as he makes his way to the stairs.

Soon, you're abandoned in the kitchen, your baggage your only company. You sit there in tense silence, mind flashing back to that detrimental morning one week ago. The way your father stood there, briefcase in hand, staring down Aaron like they're in a Texas Standoff.

The kitchen felt like a war zone that day, and has every day since. Tension rose thick like mud, dirtying you all over, exposing your lies. You remember the way your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, sitting heavy as a rock as you watched your father figure it out. The way his eyes flitted between you two, his brows furrowed, one raised every so slightly as to say, 'really?'

Aaron's face flashes through your mind, the pale of his cheeks contrasting his dark features, looking like he'd seen a ghost. His hand was still partially inside a bag of Nespresso pods, frozen in place. You were sure you didn't look much better as you shot a panicked look at the raven haired man you'd been...liaising with behind your father's back.

"Don't look at him," your father said, in that stern Italian cadence that meant you were about two seconds away from swimming with the fishes. "Look at me, and tell me the truth. What's going on here?"

He knew, of course he knew, though he's making you tell him yourself. Ever the agent.

"Dad-"

"David," Aaron had cut you off immediately, and you remember the sting of acid that punched your throat, your eyes widening as he took a small step towards your dad. "It's my fault, completely. I initiated this, please don't take your anger out on her. It's on me, and I'm sorry."

You were breathless at the fact that even after all of this, Aaron was still taking care of you. You knew it was inappropriate, but you couldn't have slowed the racing patter of your heart if you tried.

"Don't tell me how to feel about you sleeping with my daughter, Aaron," your father snapped, voice booming off the marble walls. "Aaron, I've always respected you. You're a good man, and an even better agent. But right now? I've never wanted to kill somebody more. Get out of my house."

Your fork clatters against your plate as the memory surges through you, seizing every part of you with otherworldly guilt. You see yourself vaguely in the reflection of your plate, and you don't recognize yourself. The distortion of your reflection in the glass paints a better picture of you than a mirror could right now.

Shame follows the guilt soon after, twisting around your heart like a lasso and pulling until it's so tight, you're bursting out the front door for some air. The cool evening air bites gently at your cheeks, dew already beginning to moisturize the nature around you. When you'd moved back here, you wished to be like the daisies blooming in your father's yard this spring. Born again, renewed.

Angry tears prick hot in your eyes as you stroll, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout. You're in disbelief with yourself, making the same mistakes over and over again. Even in your emotional daze, though, you can't seem to count Aaron as a mistake. You're fully aware of the ways in which you hurt your father, but you can't help but wonder if you had gone about things differently, more honestly, could you still be with him?

The question nearly paralyzes you, shock unzipping down your spine at the thought of being with Aaron, inhibitions stripped away. Your feet make quick work in the direction of his apartment, your subconscious stampeding over the logical voice in your head telling you that visiting him would only be disastrous.

Emotion wins this battle, since you're knocking at his door no more than 10 minutes later. You pick at your nails as you wait for him to open the door and anxiety pools in your gut, tart and bitter. His door finally swings open and he's speechless at the sight of you. His eyes wide and chest heaving up and down, he wordlessly steps aside to let you in.

You cross the threshold and stand awkwardly in the entryway. You wring your hands together, eyes darting everywhere but the man before you. He stands with his hands on his hips, clad in a dark suit, go-bag sat by the front door.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out as you take in your surroundings. "Do you have a minute?"

He nods slightly, and your breath hitches on an inhale.

"Aaron..." you start, but the words get lost in your throat. "What do we do?" You want him to maybe, just maybe, try and salvage what you have.

"I don't think we should continue seeing each other. At all," his voice is small, but firm and low. Your hope fizzles like a sparkler fading into the night.

"What?" you breathe out. You weren't sure what other possibilities were there for you, but you weren't expecting him to shut you down so immediately.

"What?" he asks, tone bordering on sarcastic, "is that not what you came here to do?"

"N-not necessarily!" you choke out, tears immediately springing to your eyes. Your throat constricts with frustration, how easily you fold in front of him is nearly embarrassing.

He looks shocked at your response, and it's like a hammer to a nail in the middle of your heart, splitting it right down the middle. His hands still rest on his hips, but he brings a large palm to his face, running it from his forehead to his chin. When he looks back at you, his own eyes are glossy.

"I-" he starts, unsure of how to finish, "I'm sure you can imagine how difficult it has been for your father and I at work."

Water floods in your ears, white hot anger burning in your core at his words. You truly thought you heard him wrong, that there's no world in which he could be making this about himself.

"How difficult it has been for you?!" you screech, and he flinches at your tone. "My own father won't even look at me!"

He avoids your gaze, brows furrowed and sad eyes trained on the floor. You continue.

"He won't talk to me unless it's to berate me for lying to him, and you think it's hard for you?!" your voice rings louder through the

Your logical mind is once more at war with your fiery emotions. You weren't alone in your deceit, and you know that Aaron has been facing his own consequences, too. That doesn't matter much to you, though, as you stand there in front of him, shaking and in tears. All the while he stands there, still as a statue.

"I've always prided myself on being respectable. To myself and others. The way your father looked at me that day..." he shakes his head and takes a few steps in the opposite direction, regaining some composure. "I never want to feel that guilt again. I'm sure you don't either."

You nod slowly, your brain finally wrapping itself around his decision. Before you can respond, though, his phone pings with a new message. He sighs before running five fingers through his lightly gelled hair.

"I think we should talk more about this later," he says, reaching for his go-bag and meeting you by the door.

"No," you turn to him, heaving chests now inches apart, "there's nothing more to talk about. You said we need to call things off, and clearly whatever you say, goes. Have a good case Aaron," you pierce him with one last scrutinizing gaze before slamming his door.

It begins to rain lightly on your walk home, picking up in speed the further you go. Mother Nature is falling right in line with your mood, you see. You wish you could take your time, mosey in your misery. The rain does unfavorable things for your hair, though, and you'd rather not suffer the frizzy consequences.

A familiar figure waits on your porch as you arrive home, brows furrowing as you trudge up the pathway to the house. Your heart stops once you realize who it is, blood rushing through your head and pounding in your ears.

"Kate?" you nearly whisper, paralyzed with disbelief.

Her long blonde hair whips around her shoulder as she turns to face you.

"There you are! I was waiting for you!" she chirps, fake niceties rolling off her tongue with the same ease they did in New York. Good thing nothing's changed.

"Why are you here?" is all you can get out, uncaring of your nasally monotone.

She scoffs, as if it's ridiculous of you to even ask. "Well...let's go inside and talk about it! I don't want to sit in the rain! It seems it hasn't done you any favors." She scrunches her nose in a fake giggle that almost causes steam to rise from your ears. Rage bubbles up inside you as you pass her by, not looking at her as you unlock the front door.

You're not entirely sure why you're letting her in, maybe it's the itch of curiosity you haven't been able to scratch since leaving the city. Why she did what she did. Some people say closure isn’t real. You're not one of them.

"Okay," you huff out in annoyance, "what is it? Why are you here?" you lean against the entryway table, a hand on your hip.

"Geez! We haven't seen each other in almost a year. I thought there'd be at least a little courtesy!" her nonchalance bites at your heart like a mosquito, frustration and hurt swelling inside you. "I just wanted to check in on you. Is that so wrong?"

You scoff, unsure if she's putting on an act or is genuinely this vapid. You shake your head in disbelief, how were you friends with this awful woman for years?

"You never bothered to check in when I was being shamed out of every single publishing office in New York. You seemed just fine then," you cross your arms over your chest, raising a brow at her.

"I think you're being overdramatic," she responds, and your jaw drops open at her gall.

"Oh, you think?" you sneer nastily. She picked the wrong day for this. "That's really rich coming from someone who couldn't get a single piece published until you stole my manuscript!" the accusation hangs heavy in the air, explosive like a bomb.

"You know," you barrel through any bullshit response she would have had for you, "I've had a lot of time to think since I've arrived home, and something I've come to realize is that the people we surrounded ourselves with..." you shake your head, laughing in frustrated disbelief, "all they care about is status. Money. Who has the 'next best idea'. So what are you going to do once this high wears off? When you don't have a story of mine to refigure as your own?"

You struck a nerve, her stunned silence tells you so.

"Well..." she sputters out, "forgive me for never being able to live up to the Great David Rossi's daughter! Nobody ever paid any mind to me, I had to do something!"

There it is. Your answer. Somehow, it’s not as satisfying as you anticipated. You’re still out for blood with this woman.

"So you framed me for plagiarism and ruined my career because of my father? Awesome solution to your problem there, Kate!" your sarcasm rings clear as a bell through the foyer. "You never considered putting in the work to become a better writer? Nobody paid any mind to you because you didn't have it."

You surprise yourself with your bark and bite, and you thought it'd be much more satisfying to see the tears well up in Kate's eyes. All you feel though, is more guilt, piling itself on top of the endless amount that's accumulated in the past few weeks. The doorbell pierces through the tension, and you whip yourself around to face the door and groan. You swing it open to reveal a wet, sorrowful Aaron, standing on your porch steps in the rain.

You didn't need to ask how long he's been standing there, the pained look in his eye tells you he'd heard most of what you said. You feel like you're digging your own grave in real time, like Ebenezer Scrooge watching his grim future from the tomb.

"Aaron..." you trail off, eyes scanning his face for any sign that he doesn't think you're an awful person, but you come up empty.

"Now who's this?" Kate chirps up from behind you, quickly regaining her attitude with this new arrival.

You whip your head behind you and pierce her with a deathly gaze. "Don't even think about it," you grit through clenched teeth, and her brow raises in curiosity.

"What do you want?" you ask, trying to sound unbothered as you face Aaron once again, "I thought you had a case."

"We do, we don't take off for another 15. I wanted to give you this," he holds out a gold chain with an angel pendant hanging from it. "I wanted to give it to you before I left." The clear reason why hangs between the two of you, and you shakily bring your hands to take the gold necklace from his fingers.

It was your grandmother's, and your mind races back to the night you'd shown it to him. Cuddled on the couch, a blanket draped over your sweaty, naked frames. He'd placed a finger on the pendant sticking to your chest, and you'd taken it off to show him. You hadn't even realized you left it there, another boulder of shame nestling itself on the large pile tearing apart your stomach.

"Thanks," you breathe, eyes snapping up to meet his. His lips roll into a closed lip smile, and he nods stiffly. You sit in the tension, nearly swimming in it as you stare into his dark, sorrowful eyes. Your spine straightens at the snicker that echos from behind you, the reality of the situation crashing down on you like a meteor.

"So this is why you haven't come back to New York..." she mutters slyly, pushing you to the side with her shoulder so she can get a better look at him.

Bile rises in your throat at the way her wicked eyes scan up and down his frame. You swallow the lump forming there and flit your eyes back to Aaron. He's still looking at you, which melts your heart and also makes you want to punch him at the same time.

You tear your eyes away from him, a herculean feat as your gaze drags back over to the nuisance now standing next to you. "Kate," you breathe out, "you have no idea what you're talking about." Your eyes shoot her a pleading look, but she has you right where she wants you.

"No, no, no, so let me get this straight,” she holds a hand up in your face, “we all thought you were having some sort of mental break when you up and left New York, quitting on your ‘dream’ of being a writer," she has a scheming smile on her face, and you're still waiting for the other shoe to drop, "I thought you would have lasted a week in Virginia, tops. But almost three months? Hell, I'd stay too if I had someone like this-"

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" you nearly screech, holding both palms out, trying to keep both people in front of you at arm's length. "Everyone here needs to leave, I mean it."

Aaron spins on his heel without hesitation, and you wonder how long he'd been standing there, and if he'd be late for his plane. You let the thought pass, unable to dedicate another ounce of worry to this man who's just now discovering he doesn't know you at all. Kate, on the other hand, takes her sweet time sauntering over the threshold onto the porch.

"Fine," she holds her hands up in surrender, clearly satisfied she got the last punch, "what I really wanted to tell you is that the book tour is going great," she rests a faux-sympathetic hand on your forearm and it's like you're being branded, "I thought you'd wanna know your book is a hit. Thanks for the script, I owe ya!”

She blows a fake kiss just as you slam the door, hot tears welling up in your eyes as you rest against it. How did things go so wrong? You came back to your father's house to find yourself, to shed yourself of the burden of being in New York. All you've found, though, is that running away from your worries has made them exponentially bigger. It seems obvious looking back on it, like a slap in the face. You know you can't make things right until you confront what's wrong. You race to your room, grab a suitcase, and open your laptop. You type in 'one way flights to New York City' and purchase the first ticket you find.

Aaron Hotchner is having a bad week. The understatement of the year, truly. David hasn't looked at him all week, barely talking to him unless it has to do with the case. Even then, it's still sparse. His team grace him with pitying smiles that only make the pit in his stomach grow bigger, acid singeing his organs.

He stares down at crime scene photos for what felt like the millionth time that day, desperate to crack the M.O. of their current offender. He frustratedly gives the photo a small shove, sliding it away from his prying eyes. It's no use, not when his mind is entirely preoccupied.

He can't remember the last time he's acted so recklessly, sleeping with his coworker's daughter. Not just any coworker, but David Rossi's daughter. Guilt twists in his stomach, like he's being eaten alive from the inside out. He's been dragging his feet throughout the entirety of this case, he feels it. It's why he's been marooned to the conference room of the local police station, sent to look over photos and witness statements.

Every piece of him, though, is with her. There's been a pull in his chest since the day they last spoke, a painful yearning that's taking over every part of him. He feels like he's going crazy, the moment he called things off replaying on a loop in his brain. The soft downward pull of her eyebrows, the pained gloss coating her eyes. He knew, logically, that he made the right decision. So why does it feel so wrong?

He then thinks back to the woman who was at the house when he visited earlier this week. He knew so little of her life in New York, and the way she spoke to her was unlike anything he'd seen or heard from her before. It concerned him at first, but once that door swung open, and he saw the way the unnamed woman scanned him, clearly trying to get under her skin, he felt that maybe she was justified in the harsh words she threw at the mystery woman. He needs to speak to her again, that much is for certain.

The case wraps up later that evening, and Aaron takes advantage of the empty seat opposite Dave on the jet. He slides into the leather chair dubiously, Dave's dark brow raising at the sight of him. He quickly looks back to his crossword. Aaron lets out a defeated sigh, and this gets his attention. Dave closes his puzzle and crosses his arms.

"You initiated?" he asks, and all Aaron can do is nod sheepishly.

"David, I'm sorry for lying to you, but I'm not sorry for my feelings," he begins.

"Which are...?" Dave encourages, and he prepares to say something he never thought would be possible.

"I'm in love with your daughter. Keeping our relationship a secret from you was awful, and I am so, so sorry I betrayed your trust. I love her, though. I want to be with her," adrenaline rushes through Aaron as he breathes out the last sentence. To his surprise, the tiniest smile tugs at Dave's lips.

"Don't screw it up," he points an intimidating finger at him, and Aaron huffs out a small laugh.

"You got it," he smiles, thankful to have taken the first step in earning Dave's forgiveness.

Aaron's the first one off the plane when they touch down in Quantico, opting out of team drinks at the bar and going straight to his apartment. He's in desperate need of a shower, and then he's heading straight to see her. He slows, though, when he sees an envelope taped to his door. He knows it's from her before he opens it, the scratchy Aaron on the center of the envelope giving her away immediately.

Aaron,

I feel like I owe you an explanation for the shit show you had to witness, and the full truth of what happened in New York. I had completed a manuscript just after graduating from NYU. It was my best work yet, and my ex-best friend, the woman you saw at my father's house, completely abused my trust. She had found her way on my computer one day, forwarded herself a copy, deleted any trace of it from my laptop, and gave it to the biggest publishing company in the whole city. She claimed it was hers originally, that she found it on my computer in my attempt to 'steal' her work. I tried to fight back, but she accused me of plagiarism, effectively ending my writing career. I've spent the last couple months nursing my broken heart, and I'm sorry you were caught in my mess. I'm back in the city, and I wish you well, truly.

XOXO

Aaron feels as if the air has been stolen from his lungs as he shoves the front door open. He loosens the tie around his neck and has never been more thankful for Jessica having Jack than he is right now. He fumbles with his phone, trying to find the next flight to New York. He knows it's irresponsible, rash, but she's completely turned his life upside down. What's a little more fuel to the fire?

The sun rises on your seventh day in the Manhattan Hotel in Times Square, and the liveliness of the city that would once annoy you, is now a welcomed chaos. You have no idea how long you're going to stay in room 203, whether you'll return back to Virginia or find another place here, but you've found that returning to New York has only done you good.

You're confronting the beast that's loomed over you for months, and it has not only unlocked an array of emotions- many of them Aaron related- but also unleashed your creativity. You've written three chapters so far, a semi-autobiographical tale of reclaiming your power in times of hardship. You're not sure how you're going to work around the plagiarism accusations, how you'll gain any publisher's trust again, but you figure that's an issue for a later date.

Your phone buzzes on the desk of the hotel, and you reach to flip it over. Your heart drops when you see your father's face in your caller ID. He knew you were in New York, but there hasn't been an attempt at communication until now. A trembling finger presses 'accept' and you bring the phone to your ear.

"Hello?" you answer shakily, "Dad?"

"I'm sorry I was such a jerk, Principesa," his familiar warmth floods you with relief.

"Oh Papà," you nearly exclaim, emotion flooding over you as tears spring to your eyes, "I should be the one apologizing, I'm so, so sorry for keeping my relationship with Aaron from you. It was wrong, and I never should have done it. I'm sorry," your voice wells up at the last sentence, and you hear your father coo.

"Hey, don't cry. It's okay, I had some extreme convincing from a certain grouch at work," he jokes, but you hear his voice start to shake, too.

The mention of Aaron is like a gut punch, and you can't help yourself, "How is he? Aaron?"

"He was grouchier than normal for a while, but he came to me and we talked. Things are better," he states.

"I'm so glad to hear it," you respond, though you feel there's something he's not telling you.

"Listen, I wanted to tell you something. Aaron mentioned that he dropped by to see you and there was a woman there, and that it didn't look good. I'm assuming Kate?" He asks. Your eyes fall closed, your lashes kissing your cheeks as you recall the moments of her berating you in your father's home.

"Yeah, yeah it was Kate," you whisper out.

"Good to know, because the Ring camera caught some very interesting information on her way out of the door. Something about how your book is a hit?" he mentions slyly, and you're picking up on his tone.

You'd filled him in soon after you returned home, unable to keep secrets from him for very long. He'd told you if there was anything you had to prove that she was truly the one who plagiarized, he'd help you in an instant. It seems the instance has arrived.

"You're kidding," you gasp, covering your mouth with an open palm.

"Not one bit. Sent it in to Good Morning America this morning. She's scheduled to be on tomorrow, y'know?" you can hear the smile in his voice, and it's contagious.

"Papà, oh my God!" you exclaim, the anxiety that's plagued you for months dissipating in a blur.

"Keep working hard over there, and don't be afraid to come back to me, alright?" he asks.

"Alright," you respond, and hang up. You ponder what it would be like to go back to Virginia, to write there. You don't think you'd mind it, whether Aaron is there or not. He'd be a nice bonus, for certain, but you enjoyed fostering a new relationship with your dad, cherished the real friendships you made in his coworkers. You could see a life there.

There's a knock on the door a moment later, and your brows furrow. Nobody knows you're here besides your father and Aaron, and the idea of the latter being behind that door shakes you to your very core. Your stomach drops when you realize that's exactly who's standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Aaron..." you breathe out, nearly speechless.

"Hi," he says back, breathing heavily.

You're not used to seeing him dressed so casually, a Georgetown University t-shirt hanging from his shoulders, jeans snug on his hips. His hair is mussed like he's just gotten off back-to-back flights.

"Your father said I'd find you here," he says, and you wordlessly move to let him in.

"What are you doing here, Aaron?" you ask once the door is shut.

"I'm miserable without you," he confesses, and your eyebrows shoot into your forehead, "I've barely made it through the past couple weeks, the whole time I was just waiting for you. I know it was my idea to call things off, and I don't think I've ever been so stupid."

"So why did you do it?" you question, not so ready to forgive him right away.

"The guilt- your father- it was all too much, I thought the only way past it was out," he admits, and you can understand that. You're not one to judge another for running away. "I'm sorry," he breathes, "I should have fought for you. This wasn't just a hook-up to me, was it for you?" he's breathing heavily, and you waste no time in your response.

"No, it wasn't," you breathe, and he steps closer to you slowly.

"Tell me no," he gives you an out as his hands reach up to cup your cheeks, and you respond by bringing his lips down to yours.

Kissing him again is like the first sip of water after being stranded in the desert, refreshing, renewing, all encompassing. His lips part against yours as he presses himself further into you, causing you to sigh into the kiss.

You reluctantly break away from him before you can no longer control yourself. You're both breathing heavily, your palms flat against his shoulders as you say, "Let's go back to Virginia," a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

"What?" he sputters out, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips.

"We're going to take this slow, we're going to do it right. I like you, but I also really like the life I began to create while I was staying with my dad. I can write from Virginia," you nudge his shoulder with yours, moving to pack up your belongings.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to nap while you do this," he lays back on the couch, kicking his shoes off, "after we return home, I'm not getting on another plane for 5 years."

You chuckle as you watch his eyes close, snuggling into the couch. You like the way that word sounded when it came out of his lips, home. You could get used to that.

[mouseymilkovich]

First I wanted to tell you that I really love the way you write, you have me checking the app every minute. ✨️🤭

And second, I wanted to see if you'd like to write an idea that came to my head: it's about Carmy, maybe going to buy something or just walking around, who meets the reader (who is his first and great love), but due to different circumstances life separated them. They start talking and Carmy discovers that she got married, had a son and is now divorced and his eyes light up with this information.

Maybe he knows the reader's son in this integration or just knows of his existence

I'm really excited to see what you write (whether it's my request or not), I can't wait. 🌻❤️

oh yes. oh yes yes yes. i love this. the idea of step-dad!carmy???? yes. ALSO!!! THANK U SM

Content Tags: Uhhhh divorce mention ig??? Brief Claire mention too lol

Out of all the people in Chicago, Carmy had never expected to see you again. You were his first serious girlfriend— okay, his only serious girlfriend, considering how little time he'd spent dating between culinary school and now.

Of course, you'd forced yourself to move on with your life— you thought you'd probably never see Carmy again. You'd gotten married, had a kid, and now you were in the middle of a messy divorce. The worst part of things was deciding the custody of your son.

Your son, your beautiful son... Parker. Yes, you named him after your first love, Peter Parker... nobody else needed to know that, though.

Carmy had heard about your son through various people— Sugar, Richie, even Claire. Now, he was five years old, and you were going shopping to get school things for him. How much shit did a kindergartener need though, really?

Now, you weren't expecting to run into Carmy at Target. But you did. And you stared in silence at each other for a moment, before your son broke it.

"Mommy? You 'kay?" He asked.

You snapped out of your unintentional staring contest with Carmy, smiling a little at Parker. "Yeah, bud, mommy's fine."

"Who's dat?" He asked, looking over at Carmy curiously.

Carmy smiled awkwardly, anticipating how you would introduce him to your little boy.

"You this is mommy's friend, Carmen— almost everybody calls him Carmy, though." You explained with a little smile.

Friend.

"Uh, hi buddy. Yeah, I've known your mom for a real long time!" He nodded.

"Do you know my daddy too?" Parker asked Carmy curiously, tilting his little head.

"Oh, uh, no, bud. Sorry. I never met him. I'm sure I will though—"

"Probably... not." You muttered softly.

Carmy looked at you in confusion. Why would you not want him to meet your husband?

"We're in the middle of a divorce." You told Carmy quietly. You knew Parker knew, but you didn't exactly like talking about it in front of him.

"Oh— um, I'm sorry..." He replied softly, though it was hard to hide the excited gleam in his eye, hearing that you were newly single.

"It's... fine. I guess. Just... shit happens..." You muttered.

"Shit!" Parker repeated with a little giggle.

"Parker! No, you can't say that—" You said, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Parker, huh?" Carmy muttered, giving you a little smirk. "Wouldn't be after Peter Parker, would it?"

"Oh my god, so what if it is!" You laughed. "Shush. Nobody else has figured it out."

Carmy laughed softly, rolling his eyes. "So, um... just shopping?"

"School shopping. My boy's going to kindergarten!" You told Carmy with a proud, but slightly sad, smile.

"Damn... really?" He muttered softly. "Shit. Where's the time go?"

"I don't know..." You muttered with a little laugh.

You stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Carmy took a deep breath as he plucked up courage.

"Do you... wanna catch up? Over coffee or something? Sometime, I mean."

You were a little surprised by the question, but smiled. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Can I come too?" Parker asked with big eyes.

You and Carmy both laughed, and you smiled at Carmy sweetly.

Carmy looked at Parker, and what he said just made your heart melt. "I would be honoured for you to join us, buddy."

Maybe this was the beginning of something better.

[partycatty]

older!johnny cage > overheard

you're caught in the act of swooning over your boss

notes: i'm not even fuckin playing i just woke up from my nap in a cold sweat with this idea haunting my mind so here i am. i truly honestly genuinely cannot stop thinking about dilf johnny and his thick fucking arms and how much i want him to [REDACTED]

[ masterlist ]

• during your break from training, you managed to squeeze in a meal break with one of your closest friends. it was just the two of you, laughing and for once breaking the stoicism implanted into your demeanors from training ruthlessly.

• "jesus, commander cage really kicked our asses today," your friend whined, rolling her shoulder. "i get we're fighting against demons and elementals, but did we really need to run twenty miles?"

• "it wasn't all bad," you shrug, poking at your food. "we've done worse, i feel."

• "oh hush, you had the time of your life," your friend groaned, lightly pushing into your shoulder with a smirk. "you and johnny cage got to run beside each other in formation." your friend was sure to say his name in an announcer voice, wiggling her fingers as she pretended to read a large sign.

• you huff, planting a fist on the table as you try to conceal your embarrassment with faux anger. "oh my god shut up..."

• your mind wanders to earlier in the day. johnny decided to wear only a tank top instead of a long sleeve with a vest, giving you a delicious view of his arms as they pumped during the run. while you two didn't talk, he shared panting encouragements by your side, telling you you were doing so good and how much further you had left. it made running feel almost impossible as each word and grunt knocked the wind from you.

• "jesus, look at you," your friend laughs at your dreamy expression as you replay the memory. "you're down bad, girl, anyone and their mother could tell."

• "is it that obvious?" you murmur, burying your face with your hands. "i'm doomed."

• "nah, you might have a shot," she insists, pulling your hands from your face. "he might be into younger women, most celebrities are."

• "but he's not just a celebrity, he's our superior," you whine, rolling your head back. "i just watch his movies and pretend i'm the love interest."

• "oh, it's bad bad," she laughs, looking past you for a moment. her smile falters.

• "can you blame me? ugh," you rake a hand through your hair. "he's all muscle, he could just pick me up and snap me like a twig! normally i'd settle for height alone but holy fuck he's built like a brick fucking wall!"

• your friend falls silent.

• "and don't even get me started on his age," you point an accusatory finger. "he is 50 something and so fucking fine i can't even bring myself to focus on literally anything ever. i watched some of his old movies, and he literally aged like the finest fucking wine any vineyard has ever even dreamed of making! thank god his daughter is the commander because if he stood around and told me what to do i'd behave so much like a dog it would embarrass me. he is the god damn devil in disguise and i sure a shit don't have a single chance of him even looking in my direction with any more than a smile because at the end of the day i'm just a sad little recruit crushing on a guy who probably has a massive di—"

• "i'm fifty-nine," you hear a low, horrifyingly familiar voice in your ear. you can't even bring yourself to turn around, smile dropping and eyes widening. the only thing you can bring yourself to do is stare across the table at your friend, who's as equally still. maybe if you were still enough, he wouldn't see you. like a dinosaur.

• "lieutenant," you breathe out after a long silence, drunk on the smell of his cologne. "we were just... t-talking about you."

• "oh yeah?" his voice is rumbly, a teasing inflection making you want to burst out in tears. you had a faint suspicion he was behind you the entire time, something he confirmed before you could muster the strength to speak. "sounded more like it was just you."

• "well," you wonder if you can outrun him, stammering as you try to talk yourself out of this. "you know..."

• you finally get the courage to spin in your chair, turning around to face him. he's towering over your sitting form, a shit-eating smirk on his lips.

• "i'm sorry, sir, i'll... i'll do extra push-ups, i'll go overtime on training, scrub the toilets, anything to—"

• he holds a hand up, waving it away as he shakes his head slowly.

• "don't stress it," he stands up straight, crossing his arms. oh my god his arms. "but, uh... just a word, in my office, when you have the chance." you almost miss the wink he sends at you, but you caught it just as he spun on his heel and walked out, a cocky sway to his hips.

• you spin back around, slack jawed at your friend, who's red from holding in her scream of excitement.

• "he's totally gonna bang you on his desk," she finally spits out, covering her mouth immediately after. you just lower your head, hitting it against the table in defeat.

• who knows what he's gonna do to you in his office?

[pretty-lovely-mar]

"Charles, please. Stop running away from me. You know that you can always tell me anything," Edwin says, getting up from his place at his desk.

Charles, who had already started to grab his overcoat and walk out the door, paused for a moment. He whirred around, "No, Edwin. You don't get it, do you? I yelled at you! Just now, after this case because I was annoyed and I got all caught up in it. I yelled at you... I don't do that, 'Win"

He seemed to sag under the weight of his words, momentarily losing his resolve to leave.

"It's okay." Edwin walked over to take his coat and hang it back up. He then walked back and put his hand in Charles' "I don't mind. I know you, Charles, and I know that you didn't mean it." He paused for a moment. He seemed to mull over what he was going to say next. Since his confession on the staircase in Hell, Edwin had begun to choose to be honest more and more often.

"In the spirit of honesty, I must say that I'd let you yell at me or more if it meant we were still together here in our afterlives."

Immediately, Edwin could see it was the wrong thing to have said. He still had some trouble reading Charles, especially when he was in a state of being greatly affected by his own trauma from his life. Crystal had always been better at comforting him and being there for him in that regard, but she wasn't here right now. There was no one for Charles to go to when Edwin inevitable seemed to mess it up.

Charles let go of Edwin's hand and clenched his fists at his sides. "Edwin, no. You can't... If I do something to you..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish his thought. Thoughts of his father ran through his head, and his mother's face featured right after.

His mother had stayed with his father for so many years, he had endured his father's actions until he died. He wouldn't wish that upon anyone, especially not Edwin. Never Edwin. And as much as he wished he were sure about the opposite, or that he was certain they weren't qualities that he could inherit, Charles always had that itching thought in the back of his head that he'd turn out just like father, even in his death.

Even though he had seemed like he couldn't quite get the words out, Edwin waited patiently for him to flesh out his thoughts. He took a step closer, to remind Charles that he was there for him.

Finally, he said, "If I ever hurt you, even once, never speak to me again. Tell the Night Nurse to let Death take me, start your own agency, do whatever it takes to get away from me. No matter how sorry I say I am, no matter how many promises I make." Then, quietly, almost like he didn't want him to hear, he added, "I never want you to suffer from me like my mum suffered from my dad."

Silence made the air around them feel heavy and still. Charles took an unnecessary shaky breath and looked away from Edwin. In times where he was vulnerable, Charles hated to look Edwin in the eyes.

"Charles. You will never hurt me. You can't! You don't have a single violent bone in your body. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are the best person I know, Charles Rowland, and nothing will ever change that." Edwin enveloped Charles into a hug, slowly so that Charles could move away if he wanted.

Instead, he burrowed into Edwin's neck, lips against a non-existent pulse. He stood there, being held in the agency's doorway for what seemed like forever, and he could've stayed there for another eternity.

Eventually, Edwin released him and held him by the shoulders, as Charles often did for him when he felt overwhelmed. "You're too good to be like your dad, Charles, and I will remind you every day if I have to."

And still, Charles seemed to be too overwhelmed to form words, but he nodded his, closing his eyes, and just allowed himself to lean against Edwin for a while.

Because even though Charles may never fully recover, and he'll never forget that fear, Edwin is there to remind him to not be afraid. After all, he's the best person Edwin knows, so he must be pretty great.

@aspiring-wildfire i saw your post abt edwin and charles' worst fears and something abt it just clicked so thanks for the inspiration :)

[luvyeni]

Hellow. I was wondering if you can write this silly thing in my mind, Jay with a Chubby girlfriend, he's experienced and basically all the college girls recognize him as a sex God until he met her, she's virgin and insecure, like it actually took Jay a long time to gain her trust because she was thinking that it was impossible someone so popular and handsome like him liked some like her.

Here's my plot: all the girls have been talking about her and how fat and ugly she's making her even more insecure to the point that she push away Jay when he touched her like he usually does even just holding hands, especially when he holds her waist. But he's so in love with her that he just adores every single inch of her, reassuring her that no one is as beautiful as her, so he just kiss every inch of her making her first time so special and full of love and tears because I'm a cry insecure baby

Sorry for the long ask, literally i dreamed about this 🥺

FOREVER AND ALWAYS; PARK JEONGSEONG

pairings. boyfriend!jeongseong x fem!reader

wc. 1.9k

warnings. talks of weight, fatshaming, insecurities, oral (f. reader), unprotected sex, overstimulation, reader cries.

i hope it's like you dreamed💓! the bullying kind of made me sad since im a big girly myself, so i didn't add too much.

after finding out people have been saying horrible things about you, he's determined to show you how much he loves you.

—

"she's so shameless, if i was that fat i wouldn't wear such things." you frowned, looking down at the message wishing jay would hurry up. "yeah, jay is such a cute guy, he could get anyone he wants, i don't understand why he would date someone like her."

"it's probably a joke, it has to be."

you could hear them laughing at you , and they knew you could hear them. they knew because it was something you heard on a daily occurrence by people just like them.

"baby." jay ran over to you, kissing your cheek, noticing how you moved your face, but deciding to ignore it. "hey jay." the girls giggled flirtatiously. "hi." he turned back to smiling.

"my class got held up, im sorry, you ready to go home?" he went to grab your hand, something he always did when you'd walked back to your shared apartment near campus, so you could imagine his surprise when you brushed it away. "yeah, let's go."

jay was confused, it's been a while since you avoided his affection. when you started dated, jay had a reputation , that forbid you to trust him , being really standoffish , jay was much more experienced than you , actually you had no experience due to your insecurities. jay was aware of this , so he actually took the time to get to know you , and form a relationship with you , a year later and he didn't even care that you haven't had sex , he just wants to be around you all the time.

"let's stop and get some food to take home." he pointed to your favorite store. "i'm not hungry." jay was serious when it came to food though. "well then put in the fridge and eat it later, let's just get it now." he held the door open, letting you walk in.

"do you want the regular?" he stood behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist, kissing you lovingly. you felt eyes on you, and the chuckles, pushing his arm away. "get whatever jay." you went to go wait by the door, you didn't mean to sound so rude, but you really just wanted to go home.

jay couldn't even ask you what was wrong because he was next in line, and you had already put your headphone on, spaced out.

you walked the rest of the way in silence, headphones on as you finally made it to your apartment, taking your shoes off , making your way to your room, undressing out of your day clothes.

"wait, are we just not gonna talk about it." jay followed behind. "what are you talking about?" you searched through the drawer in your underwear and a tank top, looking for a pair of sweats.

"you've been acting weird the entire walk home, you've avoided my affection multiple times, you keep looking around to see if people are looking, what is it? what's wrong." you turned to him. "why are you still here?" he took a step back. "what."

"you can have anybody you want, there are girls lining up to have sex with you, they do it right in front of me so know, why are you here? what do you want from me? am i just a joke that you're stringing along for a laugh with your friends?" jay was stunned, even on your worst days, you've never snapped at him, and he could tell you didn't mean it either cause of the widening of your eyes.

"im so sorry, i didn't mean it." he was silent, just pulling you into a hug. "i'm sorry." he rubbed up and down your back. "it's okay." he whispered. "i know you didn't mean it." he could feel your shoulders shaking as you sniffled into his neck, your tears warm. "they're so mean." jay finally got what was bothering you , and he was pissed. how dare they make you feel like this, after everything he's done to make you feel secure, how dare they treat you like this.

"listen to me, there is no one as beautiful as you are, you understand me?" he looked at you with a serious face. "i don't want anyone else but you, and i will spend as long as i need to, to prove it to you love." he held your cheek in his hand, wiping the tears. "i love you okay?" you sniffled, nodding. "i love you too."

he kissed the apples of your cheeks. "my fools made my pretty baby feel bad about herself, they'll pay for this i swear." he kissed your lips. "my baby doesn't see how beautiful she is, but i do, she is the most beautiful person in the whole world." he kissed your neck. "i just love her so much." he said in between kissed. "j..jay." he shushed you. "let me show you baby just how beautiful i think you are." he backed you up against the bed, pushing you down softly.

"so so pretty." he climbed on top of you, continuing his assault on your neck. "j..jay, feels so good." you moaned. "yeah? does it?" he kissed down to your chest. "im gonna make you feel so good princess." his hand came up to grope your tits. "been waiting so long to feel these in my hand baby, so soft." you're back arched off the bed at the sensation. "so sensitive."

"t..they're too big." he lifted your shirt off your body, going back to squeezing them. "they're fucking perfect baby, i can't wait to fuck them, paint them with my cum." he licked a nipple. "jay f..fuck." you sighed, as he licked and sucked on your nipples, showing them each the same amount of love and affection, before he continued down to your tummy.

"your pretty tummy, love to touch. " his kisses were hot on your stomach. "made me feel really bad earlier, my pretty baby wouldn't let me touch her pretty tummy like i always do, it's my favorite thing, but she denied me." he was getting dangerously close to your underwear. "m..m'sorry." he gave your stomach one more kiss. "i know baby, you're gonna repay me by letting me eat your pretty pussy aren't you?" his words made your hips involuntarily buck up.

"y..yes." he slowly slid your panties down your legs, kissing up your legs, until he was face to face with your heat. "s.stop staring." you tried to close your legs, but he held them open. "sorry love, i can't help it, you're so pretty, everything about you is so pretty." he kissed the inside of your thighs. "i really want you to sit on my face." you whined, he looked up at you. "not right now." he nodded. "okay princess we don't have to, it's all about you." he gave your thighs a few more kisses, you could feel his breathing on your heat.

"jay please." you mewled trying to move your hips. "do something." he kissed your thighs one more time, before giving your cunt a surprise lick. "jay." your hands gripped the bedsheet. "taste so good baby." he gave your cunt a few kitten licks before eating you out like a starved man.

you've never felt something like this, the way he would switch between long stripes up your wet cunt, to little kitten licks, it had your head spinning. one particular lick had you grabbing his hair, grinding your cunt against his face. he moaned right into your heat, allowing you to use him to get yourself off.

"jay i feel- shit it feels so good." he could feel you gripping his hair a little harder, you about to cum. "go a head and cum pretty girl." you felt something build up in your abdomen, then snap. "im cumming!" jay continued licking your mess, riding out your high, until he felt your hips jerk from overstimulation. "j..jay."

"okay princess im done." he gave your clit one more kiss, before coming up, his lips glossed from your essence and spit. "you taste so good, i couldn't help it." his hand came down to his crotch, palming his hard on. "jay- we don't have to do anything right now, i just wanted to show you how much i love you."

you ignored him, replacing his hand with yours, rubbing him. "i want to, i'm ready." he groaned, hips bucking into your touch. "fuck- fine princess, i'll be gentle i swear." you trusted jay, you knew he wouldn't harm you. "i know you will." he climbed off of you, getting rid of all his clothes.

you never seen a cock before beside the videos, but his was probably the prettiest you've ever seen, he wasn't intimidatingly big; thick enough to make you feel good, veins decorated the sides all the way up to his dark red tip that had precum bubbling at the top, it made your mouth water.

"princess why are you staring so much?" he smirked, his thumb coming up to rub your clit. "p..pretty." he chuckled. "thank you love." he teased your hole with a finger. "so wet princess." he slowly slid his finger in. "gotta stretch you out a bit pretty, so it won't hurt as much." he slowly fingered you before pulling out.

"you ready beautiful?" you nodded. "please put it in jay." he bent down, kissing your lips, distracting you as he slowly pushed himself inside your hole. "j..jay." you moaned in pain and pleasure at the stretch. "i know love, i know." he slowly bottomed out inside you, letting out a low moan as you successfully took him hole. "pretty girl, you took all of me."

you were so tight, the way you clenched around him so tightly he knew he wasn't gonna last long, it had been a year since he had sex with anyone, forced to use his hand. "fuck baby, if i don't move now, im gonna cum just from your pretty pussing clenching around me." you moaned. "y..you can move." he pulled out, pushing himself inside you all at once this time. "f..fuck jay!" he began to thrust himself in and out of you.

"shit! princess you're so tight, so fucking wet."

his eyes were glued to your tits, the way they bounced along with every thrust. "so pretty baby, you're so fucking pretty— shit- i hate when you talk bad about yourself." you were a moaning mess. "you're so beautiful, you mean so much to me, you understand me." you nodded, but jay wanted to hear you.

"i said do *thrust* you *thrust* under *thrust* stand *thrust* me?" you felt the build up in your abdomen. "i..i understand." he kissed your lips. "i love you so much, don't forget that." you couldn't understand why, but you started to cry. "i..i love you too." he kissed your cheeks. "j..jay i'm gonna cum." he reached in between your bodies rubbing your clit. "cum for me pretty, go a head." you were a crying fucked out mess as you came on his cock. "shit!" he pulled out, fisting his cock before spilling all over your abused twitching hole.

you were still crying, overwhelmed by everything, jay pulled you into a hug, not caring about the sweat, or the smell of sex in the air, he only cared about you. "it's okay love, im right here." he rocked your body. "let it out."

he let you get yourself together before he helped you clean up, bringing you back to the bed. "don't go." he smiled, caressing your face. "i'll be right back." he said exiting the room. he returned back with the food you bought. "let's just eat in here tonight, i'll clean everything else later." you smiled as your boyfriend set everything up. "what is it?" he laughed. "i just love you so much." he kissed your lips, pulling away smiling.

"i told you, i'll always be here for you, i love you too, forever and always."

©️LUVYENI

[radio-writes]

Your Place in the Eyes of a God

Synopsis: You thought yourself oh so lucky that the demon who owned your soul was charming and kind.

Most people just had monsters ordering them about, at least your owner Alastor saw you as a lovely companion.

Warnings: Implied abusive relationship, power imbalance

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; gn!reader

MDNI

Being under contract, you weren't exactly overjoyed at the fact that you didn't own your own soul, but at least your contractor wasn't a monster, right? At least he was sweet, and funny, and charming.

And oh was he charming.

That is how your soul ended up chained to his after all.

He was always so kind to you. He treated you as if you were a friend—a person.

He had taken you out for meals; showed you off from time to time. He had adored every single gift you ever gave him. He had always asked you to smile because he just found you oh so

"Lovely," He said.

And it filled your head with clouds every single time. His soft compliments never failed to make you forget where you actually stood. 

So, you never really expected things to change so quickly. So drastically.

You desperately slapped your hands over your mouth, clasped tight against your lips to silence even the smallest whimpers that threatened to slip out. You pressed against the wall, hiding, maybe if even hoping that it would open up and swallow you whole. Take you some place else—anywhere else—but here.

You watched with wide, teary eyes, unable to look away.

It was hard for you to connect the charming man you fell for with the nightmare of a creature you saw looming over Husk. 

That thing that threatened to rip the poor man's soul apart couldn't possibly be your Alastor, right? There was no way that was your sweet, funny, charming Alastor. 

But those hands that yanked at the chain were unmistakably the same ones that gently combed through you hair at night. 

That smile he held while he threatened the man was unmistakably the same one you woke up sweetly to almost every morning.

That voice, albeit distorted more than usual by static, promising wicked acts, was unmistakably the same voice that softly greeted you good morning, asking if you had a good rest.

There was no mistake. There was no denying it. 

"Understood," You barely hear Husk's frightened response.

"Lovely," Alastor praised before he left Husk shaking on the ground by his feet.

You felt your heart sink immediately. 

Lovely. The word echoed in your head, your blood now ran cold.

Lovely. The mockery, the disdain, the obvious threat to obey him or else. You didn't think such a simple word could hold so much malice. 

"I can't wait to wear that new necklace you got for me!"

"I got you this tie because it just seemed like it was your style!"

"Of course, I'm smiling! I'm with you, aren't I?"

You didn't notice when your knees finally gave away under you. You didn't notice when you started crying. Your body simply crumpled to the floor as you continued to press your hands against your mouth, silencing the sobs that ripped through you. 

Alastor had already left. You didn't need to hide around the corner anymore. You were safe now. 

No. Have you ever truly been safe?

Because what was his response? What did he say every time you followed his requests? Every time you excitedly handed him whatever trinket you thought he'd like? Every time you smiled for him?

Lovely. The word rang in your ears.

Lovely.

It wasn't a compliment, you realized.

It was never a compliment. It was a praise. A praise for being such a good, obedient pet.

[tsxkkis]

# iwaizumi hajime - won't let go

a/n = i'm not the best at writing hurt/comfort type of stuff, but i hope this piece is alright ^^ also we love iwaizumi on this acc sm he's the man fr.

summary = after an argument, iwaizumi needs to apologize.

warnings = one swear word, argument, idk what else.

the sound of rain hitting the ground came from behind your window, being the only thing disrupting the silence inside. the storm was getting heavier with each passing hour, taking you and many others by surprise, since the last few weeks have all been sunny and warm. luckily you didn't go outside today; or the day before, or two days before, or ever since the argument.

the last thing you expected, in this type of weather especially, was to hear a knock on the door. you didn't order anything, and your parents were supposed to come back from their trip on sunday. so who could it possibly be?

you slowly opened the door only to be met with the tall, dark-haired boy, his clothes soaking wet from the rain, hair sticking to his forehead.

iwaizumi.

"what are you doing her-"

your words were quickly cut off by the boy, his eyes locked on the ground in front of him before his head went up, his focus now on your face.

"i'm sorry."

you were used to the fact that iwaizumi didn't show much emotion on his face, but you also knew one other thing. his eyes would always tell the truth. and right now, as you stared into them, you were positive about how genuine his words were.

"iwa, we can't go on like this if you don't trust me."

he knew you were right. after all, that was the most crucial part of a relationship; trusting one another wholeheartedly. and iwaizumi trusted you, there was no doubt of that. but something was different that day.

maybe it was the fact that he was mad after losing the match. maybe it was how jealous he was at the smile you gave to the karasuno members, how you celebrated with them after they won. but all of those things just rubbed him the wrong way.

he knew that you were their manager, but you were also his girlfriend. and something made him feel betrayed that day.

"maybe we shouldn't continue this, then."

his words felt like a knife going right through your heart. you could feel your eyes getting watery the very moment they left iwaizumi's mouth. as you looked down, trying to hold back the tears as well as thinking of what you should say back to him, you heard kiyoko, one of your fellow managers, calling you from the other side of the hall, since there was a team meeting before the next game.

you turned around and left, without a word, wiping away the single tear that managed to slip and roll down your cheek, assuring your friends that yes, everything is okay.

oh, what a lie that was.

you didn't see him since last week. in the meantime, karasuno managed to win the final and secure their place in nationals, and as happy as you were for your team, you couldn't help but shake the sadness away after what happened between you and iwaizumi.

"come inside. you're gonna catch a cold." a deep sigh left your lips as you gestured for him to enter the house, closing the door behind him. you quickly turned around heading towards the bathroom. "you're soaking wet. i'll grab you a towel."

"please, listen to me first." iwaizumi's voice sounded desperate as it echoed from behind you, his hand reaching out to gently grab you by the arm.

"not until i'm sure you won't get sick." you looked at him for a spare second, and he decided not to stop you. he waited patiently in the hallway, reaching out to take the towel you handed him the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, along with a hoodie and pants for him to change into.

his hoodie and his pants. ones that he left in your house on purpose, ones you always used as pajamas when the nights got cold.

as you stood there in silence, watching iwaizumi dry his hair, you couldn't help but realize how awkward it all felt. it was never this way between you two; you could spend hours without speaking, just spending quality time with each other and it just felt right. but now, after the argument it was different. and you didn't enjoy that at all.

"i'm sorry. about what i said after the game." he took a deep breath, looking up at you, his words disrupting the silence. "i was just, jealous. and mad. i was mad after losing that match, and it made me even more furious to see that you were so, happy."

you didn't bother to interrupt him, letting him explain everything.

"i know you're their manager, and you felt happy your team won. i completely understand that. it would be weird if you weren't cheering them on. i just couldn't help but feel bad." his eyes were glued to the floor, the overwhelming feeling of shame taking over him. "i know that i fucked up, really badly, and there's nothing to excuse what i said that day." iwaizumi could feel the tears starting to form, but he did his best not to let them spill, a shaky breath escaping his lips. "i just need you to know that- that i don't feel that way. i don't think we shouldn't continue this thing that we have. because i love you. i love you too much to lose you like this, to lose you because of my stupid actions."

your eyes widened at his words. there it was.

the first time he ever said those words.

you took a step towards him, your hand reaching out to gently lay down on his cheek, a small yet warm and gentle smile gracing your face.

"it's okay, hajime." your words sounded so soothing to him, you're voice calming and soft, even though millions of emotions were going through you that moment. "i accept your apology. i just couldn't help but feel hurt by your words that day, you know. i think it's quite understandable."

he looked up at you, nodding in response, as his hand instinctively went up to yours, thumb trailing little circles on the outer part of it.

"and, one more thing." he had a questioning look on his face, his head tilted to the side as he heard your words, your body moving just a little bit closer to him. "i love you too."

a shy smile appeared on his face, his fingers interlocked with yours as you stared at each other, both happy inside that this situation was over with.

"it's still raining. you can stay here until it stops, if you want."

iwaizumi squeezed your hand, his smile noticeably growing as he heard it.

"i would love to."

taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan

[bbina]

"what are you doing here?"

wonbin stifles in his laughter seeing you all alone in the same restaurant he was at. it was valentines day and since he had no one but himself, he decides to take himself out on a date (totally not because he was moping in his dorm that he couldn't score a single date, no definitely not that)

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. you just had to run into him at the restaurant your date told you to go to.

"obviously i'm on a date? can't you see that?" you grumbled, turning away to look at the empty seat in front of you. your date was late that it had you a little worried

wonbin bursts out laughing at the mention of your "date"

"you have a date? how much did you pay them?" he cackles, lowkey feeling jealous that you even scored one. not that he wanted to ask you in case you didn't have a date. no he didn't want that. he'd never. or does he?

feeling irritated with just his presence, you slam your hands against the table. he stops laughing as he gets startled at your outburst

"how about you? what are you doing here? didn't think you'd be the type to celebrate this corny day" you raise an eyebrow at the boy in front of you. what was he doing here anyway, you think he'd probably had a line of people asking him out for valentines day but you didn't think you'd see him all alone

wonbin scoffs, "for your information, i told my friends i'd go on this stupid double date with them." he lies. he wasn't just gonna admit out loud that he was bitchless on the most romantic day of the year. he'd probably never hear the end of it coming from you

you hum, totally not buying it. it was almost physically impossible for wonbin to go out on a double date that his "friend" asked him to. park wonbin on double dates? there was just no way

"and you're telling me all this because..?" you stare at wonbin who looks like he was at a loss for words. he rapidly shakes his head as he composes himself

"it doesn't matter. now back to you, where's your date at?" it was his turn to pester you

you purse your lips shut as you pick up your phone to bombard your date for tonight. he wasn't even replying to your messages, despite him asking you out. you checked the time to see he was already 30 minutes late to your appointment. it's safe to say that you were stood up

wonbin picks up on your silence and lets out a chuckle

"you've been teasing me all this time just for you to get stood up?" he taunts. internally cheering that your date didn't show up. this could be his chance to have a date with you

"..."

you keep silent after that, feeling the embarrassment creep up your veins. with a sigh, you start to gather your stuff before wonbin invites himself to your table.

"you're lucky i'm hungry." wonbin muses, picking up the menu in front of you as he scans through it

"what are you doing..?"

wonbin peeks at you through the menu, a gummy smile on his lips, "on a date"

the way he said that was so smooth that it gave you whiplash. there was no way in hell that wonbin suddenly had this effect on you

"i thought you were on a double date? what happened to that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the now blushing boy in front of you

"... i lied. i had no date" he confesses, dropping the menu down the table. you laugh at his demise, forgetting that you also got stood up.

"you're no in position to laugh at me! you got stood up so that makes us even" wonbin points out. now no one's laughing. you awkwardly cough in response to his truthful accusation

"whatever" you huff, snatching the menu off the table to start ordering.

"well it's a good thing i arrived, no?" wonbin says smugly that it makes you want to pull your hair out.

"i hate you" you grumbled, feeling defeated over the whole thing. you just wanted to get this night over with even if it had to be with your sworn enemy

"the feeling is mutual" he coos, teasing you. "i know we started on the wrong foot but just this once i want us to try again"

"what do you mean?"

"let's reintroduce ourselves" wonbin proposes

you think this valentines day craze is getting to his head because what did he mean by that? you've known him since middle school being in the same sport as him and since then you've become enemies. he has always pestered you and vice versa. at one point you two have claimed that you were sworn enemies but look at you now

"i'll start" wonbin says, "i'm wonbin" he reintroduces himself again. you still didn't understand where this was going but since you had nothing to lose, you play along

"i'm y/n.."

"hi y/n, would you like to go out on a date with me?"

'he's definitely lost it' you think to yourself. you start laughing like crazy, "give me your plug. i need some of that too after tonight"

wonbin frowns at your comment. why can't you take him seriously

"i'm serious!"

"i'm serious too. seriously wonbin, what the fuck's gotten into you?"

you think this was way below the belt. it's not nice to get your feelings played and to think wonbin was pulling shit like this is making you genuinely upset

wonbin sighs, "fine. i'm sorry. i know i've been an asshole to you all this time but it's because i didn't know how to talk to you so let me make it up to you after all those years. please?"

you sat there staring at wonbin for who knows how long. trying to process what he was trying to say. what you're getting is that wonbin wants to start things fresh with you

"i had the longest crush on you and i actually can't believe you still haven't noticed after all these years" wonbin murmurs, feeling small with the way you've gone silent. maybe he shouldn't have dropped the bomb so casually with the way your eyes have widened

"what?"

"whoops. secret's out" wonbin holds his hands out

you actually cannot believe what the fuck is happening. first you got stood up, then you unexpectedly meet wonbin at the same restaurant, now you're hearing him say things you thought you'd never hear from him

"you call all those teasing and tormenting, flirting?" you ask bewildered, making sure you heard him right the first time. there was actually no way in hell that all this time, wonbin has a crush on you

wonbin simply shrugs, "it is in my books"

"you're unbelievable, park wonbin" you breathe, in disbelief over the turn of events

"you still haven't answered my question yet!" he protests. your answer is all he needs and if you say no then he'll never bother you again

with an irritated sigh and a pinch of your nose bridge later, you defeatedly say yes

"fine! i'll go on this date with you. you have one chance to prove all that yapping you just did" you turn away from wonbin to hide the small blush dusted on your cheeks

wonbin smiles and looks down at his lap. "you won't regret it. i promise"

"i better not!"

"can we order now i'm starving and i know you haven't ordered anything in the past hour"

"you paying?"

"a man should never make his lady pay" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively before calling out for a waiter. with an unexpected turn of events, this valentines day will be something worth remembering

permanent taglist: @callanton @fxckingshame

[bau-drabbles]

haunted

emily, one of your close friends in the bau, comes back and after months of crying over her death you're not sure how to feel. it hurts the most when the deception also comes from aaron, the man you've loved for so long

a/n: idk how i feel about it. it's very rushed because half of it was deleted and i couldn't be bothered to go back and rewrite it properly.

aaron hottie angst again because his pain is so beautifully upsetting. kinda long so enjoy 🤍

part 2 :)

"everybody, have a seat" aaron's voice is more tense than usual, as if he was about to announce some bad news. your heart races but you walked in, grabbing a seat next to morgan. jj stands beside hotch and she looks almost worried, toying with her fingers. your brows knitted in confusion, wondering what was so urgent

"why, what's going on? everything all right?" spencer asked, his brow raised.

"seven months ago, i made a decision that affected this team. as you all know, emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with doyle," hotch began

"but the doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from boston to bethesda under covert exfiltration. her identity was strictly need-to-know. and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. she was reassigned to paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security" he finishes but there's pin drop silence in return. his arms had folded over awaiting a response but everyone was shocked to say a thing

your heart feels like it's plummeted at the bottom of the earth, the breath completely knocked out from your lungs. you hope someone announces its a big joke but hotch looks at all of you expectantly. jj has her head slightly bowed, unable to make any eye contact and its then you realise she knew all along.

"she's alive?" you didn't even think you said it out loud but aaron looks at you, his brows in a tight frown. you see the truth spilled on his face and it stings immensely knowing how he saw you in your vulnerable moments and still decided not to say a thing

he knew all along

"but we buried her" someone else says but at that point you completely blank out, sinking further in your seat. hoping the ground would swallow you whole and remove the burden crushing your heart.

"as i said, i take full responsibility for the decision. if anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me" aaron looks at you again but you don't bother looking in his direction.

all those times, every single tear, every second of sadness, all of it was.... fake?

"any issues?? yeah, i got issues-" morgan started, standing up towards hotch. but he doesn't go far for garcia speaks again. her eyes are brimmed with tears, walking quickly towards the door

"oh, my god" and you turn, unable to register the vision in front of you

"i am so sorry, i really am. not a day went by that i didn't want to...really, i... you didn't deserve that and i'm so sorry" the voice you thought you'd never hear again in this lifetime spoke. there she genuinely was, in the living breathing flesh. garcia grabs her in a hug and they share a tearful laugh about something you can't hear.

"there is so much i want to tell you guys and-and i will, i promise" the woman you spent crying in private about for weeks was now alive, like nothing had even happened.

garcia embraces her tight again and jj, morgan, rossi and reid followed suit.

it doesn't comprehend there she genuinely was, actually physically standing there. so many emotions had run through you, unclear of which one it was. all you can think about was her in your arms actively dying and you crying as you screamed for medics to come.

so you remained silent, while everyone had hugged her you stood just looking. unsure of what to feel, unsure over how to act. it felt foreign and you get lost in the reality of the situation, not realising she had made her way towards you

"y/n..." emily walked closer a smile on her lips but you couldn't reciprocate it. how could she so... nonchalanant about everything? those nights you spent crying, the nights your heart had felt so hollow in your chest, all of that burned in your mind.

the anguish, the pain, the guilt, all of it was an illusion.

and aaron, the man with whom you had trusted with your whole life glanced at you through the corner. he doesn't know what to say, what could be said? unintentionally he had lied to you, comforted you through pain that didn't even exist. he saw you vulnerable after her death, he was the one that pieced you back. and now it felt like all the parts he held together were coming undone.

"emily" you nod, a tight lipped smile on yours. even just being in her presence is enough to tip you over the edge so you distract yourself, holding the file. how strange, a mere seven months ago you two were the closest of friends.

and now you barely even knew her

"i-" she opens her arms slightly to embrace you but you open your hands to give her the information. touching her felt too soon, you needed some time to think.

"this is the file with doyle and everything going on with the kid. we don't have time to spare" you nod, quickly hand it to her and walk straight for the coffee. it wasn't caffeine that was going to help you tonight but it didn't hurt to try

•••

"hey..." morgan finds you staring blankly at the wall with the pictures, trying to find the next step in the kidnapping. and no matter how much you tried to regain your composure, it cracked piece by piece. exposing your facade and your true feelings behind the matter.

you were determined to keep a straight front for your team but every time you saw emily and jj and especially hotch, it felt like a challenge you weren't sure you'd win

"hey" you continue to take through the information, trying to piece the murder but there's so much on your mind it all feels like its vanishing in the air. like nothing is registering in your brain.

"hey" jj comes in and you stiffen up, quickly catching some files and exiting the room. she calls your name but you simply walk straight for the hallway. true, it was a childish thing to do but you couldn't look at any of them without the overwhelming urge to break down.

aaron, however, catches you in the hallway and you step back not wanting to even touch him, unable to look at his deceiting face.

"i know what you've been through. i understand that you're angry but i hope that you understand that this is not about you or me. this was about saving emily" his tone is sharp, firm but you see the hurricane of emotions in his eyes.

the most dominant being sorrow. but that wasn't enough for you, you almost wanted him to experience the pain you'd felt.

"why do you care about what i think hotch? it never mattered before, evidently" you match his tone in return, trying to go about him.

"y/n i know you're disappointed how we handled emily but it wasn't in our control, we couldn't say anything" he stops you and you don't even want to look at him, he knew how hard it had been on you. and he still didn't breathe a word of her survival.

"you couldn't or you wouldn't?? don't pretend to care what i've been through hotch. i came to you crying for weeks on end and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth. not fucking once. what did you expect? i'd hug prentiss and all would be well? give me a break" you scoffed, pulling away from him. he stood stunned for a moment, his brows scrunched in a confused frown

"i know and i understand-" "i don't think you do. we have a kid that's about to die hotch, now is not the time" you utter, glaring as you walked by him.

•••

the plane ride was silent, moreso than usual. you noticed the glances your team was giving you but as long as the job was done efficiently, there wasn't really anything to say, you'd talk on your own time. just you and your book was enough for now.

all that was interrupted when a voice cut in. a voice you thought you weren't ready to hear just yet

"declan is little shaken up but the doctor said he'll be fine" she smiled at you, eyes looking at you but you refused to make any contact

"good. we got there in time" you commented, turning the page.

"yes..." she taps her fingers on the table, unsure on how to continue the conversation. part of you hopes she walks away, not ready to listen to her just yet.

"well we're going to rossi's tomorrow night. i want to see if he really can cook. are you coming?" she asked hopefully, a small smile on her lips

"i don't know, i'm not so sure i can make it" you leaned your elbow on the armrest, continuing to read the same sentence until she left.

"look, l/n, i know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and... i understand that. but i promise you, we had no choice" she begins and she sighs a little before looking directly at you.

"you mourned one friend, i mourned seven" she chuckled lightly, trying to make you see from her perspective. but you couldn't, the betrayal rang far too loudly in your ears.

his especially

"it's not a competition emily" you put your book down, directly looking at her eyes. everything you had been bursting to say left your lips before you could even comprehend it.

"you didn't carry my coffin, you didn't cry over someone that was presumably dead. do you know how many times i was angry at myself for not doing more? i kept replaying that moment when i held you, near enough lifeless and completely covered in blood. and all i could do was beg you to breathe and stay with me. you didn't take medications because every time you closed your damn eyes, all you could see was your dead friend in her own blood did you? don't pretend we're the same emily, you have no idea what i went through" with every word, you could feel the anger boiling deep inside of you. the annoyance coursing through your veins like wildfire.

"you could've given us a hint, a sign, anything to indicate proof of life. but i had to hold the pain over your death for months. so forgive me if i don't want to go through that again" your tone was sharp, picking up your book back to indicate the conversation was over

"y/n i'm sorry i-" she began softly but you shook your head

"look emily, i appreciate what you're trying to do. really. and i'm happy that you're back but i need time and space too. i can't do this job efficiently otherwise. so please..." you indicated for her to leave and she reluctantly stood up, wanting to say a million words. but none of them seemed quite correct

you hoped no one would come and try to talk, just wishing this plane ride would end quickly and you'd be in the safe sanctuary of your bedroom

and for once your wish is granted

•••

the precinct was empty, dark and cold. replicating how you felt on the inside.

your bag was in your office and you hoped everyone was gone, you couldn't handle seeing their faces.

it was hard, because on the one hand your friend was back. you wanted to rejoice, and hug her so tight but the way it all happened... it felt wrong.

"y/n" and there it is. the voice you definitely didn't want to hear tonight

"aaron" you reply in response, turning around to face him. he looks dishevelled, almost as if he had to run to catch you back here. on any other day before, it would've made you fawn over his adorableness but it didn't stir a thing in you now.

"i know what i did was inexcusable. i know you're hurt, i know it could've been handled better. i realise that but you have to understand that this wasn't my order. if you had known, it would've put you in a compromising position too" he comes close until he's standing a foot away. his eyes are aligt with an emotion you've never seen him use before, pleading

"i just can't get over it hotch. i'm so happy she's back and under different circumstances i would've celebrated it. but i can't because you lied to me. for months and months" you want to fall in to his arms, to forget about everything that had transpired tonight but it would solve nothing. so you stay where you are, the ache in your heart growing by the minute.

"and for that i deeply apologise" before, this would have solved your problems. but now it felt like the gasoline added to the fire.

"you don't care about me aaron and i'm fooling myself if i keep pretending that everything is okay"

"i do y/n, i just need time. i just-"

"how much time?? how much longer can i be expected to wait?? how much longer can i pretend that you actually care about me-"

"i do care!" "oh you do?? you watched me cry for months. does that sound like caring? and you never want to progress further in this. how can i be with someone who doesn't care? emily coming back was just the icing. you'd use anything and anyone to get what you want hotch. you don't care about anyone, much less me"

"is that what you think of me?" he whispers, eyes narrowing at you

"it's what i know of you. from the moment i met you to now. i thought it was fine at first. but i can't do it. do you have any idea how.... hard it is to love you?" every word was a dagger to his heart, twisting and twisting until it was difficult to breathe.

"i'm done. i need a break. from you, from the bau, from everyone" you let out a shaky sigh, hugging your bag closer to your body. the man before you was your lifeline and now it felt like you were drowning in the depths of him. the only way to save yourself would be to remove yourself from his grasp, to pretend that he, your lover, never existed. he was aaron hotchner, your boss. he would never be the man you were so desperately and hopelessly in love with.

"y/n please don't-"

"i'm taking my holidays. don't contact me, don't find me. i just really.... don't want to see you ever" with that you stormed out of the room, away from him and his presence. away from his beautiful face you came to adore, away from all the memories you would forever cherish until your last breath.

but no amount of miles between you both could ever be enough

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Random midnight "Need and Want" snippet...

Figuring things out was hard. This whole 'dating each other and there's three of us' thing, plus adding his daughter into it... But they could do it.

And rather than wing it or tough it out with zero experience, you actually did some research and found some books and articles that came highly recommended.

"A book? Is this some self help shit?" Katsuki narrowed his eyes as he pulled the book out of the bag you handed him.

"I think we all should read it," you retorted while holding your own copy. Eijirou stood between you and flipped through the pages looking skeptical. "It's highly recommended from the forums and stuff I looked at for poly and nonmonogamous relationships."

It was still weird to hear what they were referred to with proper terms, like it was too formal for just saying dating each other. An unfamiliar, scientific name for a new favorite dish with conventional ingredients.

Eijirou grunted. "I mean, do we really need to read a book on it though? We've been doing ok so far, right? And it's not like we're unfamiliar with relationships in general."

"Did you already forget about when you got jealous and upset last month?" He immediately looked bashful as his thumb paused in the middle of a random page.

Katsuki still wasn't convinced. "What does a random author know about us and what we might need? One bit of advice doesn't fit every scenario." He didn't want to read about things that didn't apply to them or problems they could fix on their own. Yeah, he was far from perfect in regards to communication, but like everything else, he was working on it.

"So you think we can't learn a single thing from someone else?" You figured Katsuki would get defensive about this, but it seemed worth it to at least try.

"That ain't what I said-"

Eijirou sliced the air between the two of you with his book trying to literally cut the tension. "I don't wanna argue about this stuff... I think we can all agree that none of us are perfect and... " He sighed. "Maybe we've got weak spots that aren't easy to see. And I mean, we wanna set good examples for Hatsuki, right?"

At the mention of Katsuki's daughter, the chill left the room. Yeah, of course he did. She was his everything. Setting a bad example for her wasn't something he ever wanted to do. If he could read books on parenting, then maybe doing the same for their new relationship was the right step. He'd always set his pride aside for Hatsuki, and you and Eijirou now, too.

A week later, Katsuki sat up in bed with the damn book and his reading glasses while Hatsuki was asleep. Two chapters in and he hated how much he thought he knew, but details slowly became obvious the more he read. It also sucked feeling vulnerable, but that was also something he was working on.

His bedroom door creaked opened, light spilling in as a sleepy Hatsuki stumbled and rubbed her eyes before climbing into his bed.

"You're supposed to be asleep, firecracker," he said, shutting the book to rub at her hair.

Ignoring his implied question, she mumbled, "what are you reading?"

"A book," he answered flatly. Now was not the time for this conversation at all.

"Can you read me some?" She held her stuffed bunny and snuggled under the covers like she belonged there.

"No. This ain't a book for you. It's for grown ups."

Yawn. "Oh." A beat of silence. "So it's about taxes?"

.....

"Yep. It's about taxes."

[jakesprettygirlx]

HIII!!! COULD U RIGHT JOHNNIE X READER WHERE THEY GO TO A CARNIVAL AND PEOPLE KEEP SAYING THAT THEY ARE A CUTE COUPLE AND THEN SOMEONE CONFESSES <33 (sorry if that’s a lot😣)

Carnival

Pairing- Johnnie guilbert X fem!reader

- hiii thank you so much for requesting, this is such an amazing request and Soo cuteeee <3

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

Johnnie and I had spontaneously decided late at night to go to the carnival that was in town, and that's exactly what we did.

We went on so many rides, laughing as each of us got shit scared plenty of times on different rides.

Throughout the whole time when Johnnie was distracted I couldn't help but smile at him with nothing but love, his mostly immature jokes at random things always made me laugh no matter what they were, his sweet and caring attitude always seems to make me even more in love with him, and of course his style it suited him so perfectly that I couldn't picture him dressing any other way.

We had decided to go and get pretzels and a slushie before going on the Ferris wheel so that we could end the night on the Ferris wheel since we had been here for a few hours now.

It was finally our turn in line as Johnnie and I walked up to the sweet older lady that was running the shop.

"hello, can we please get two pretzels and 2 raspberry slushies" Johnnie asked the lady nicely as he looked over at me making sure that he had gotten the order correct to which I laughed at but nodded.

The older lady looked between us and smiled before saying.

"sure thing, and you two are such a cute couple I have to say"

Johnnie and I looked at each other quickly trying to scramble over words and tell her that we were in fact not a couple but she was already gone to get our order.

While we waited to the side for our food a little girl came rushing over asking for a picture with Johnnie and I as we were both some of her favourite youtubers.

Of course we agreed and bent down to her level quickly taking a picture and she smile d brightly thanking us to which we said no problem.

But before she walked away she said one thing that just made Johnnie and I look at eachother with no words we could possible say.

"you two are the most adorable couple on YouTube" she walked away after saying that as Johnnie and I were left in an awkward silence.

Did we really look like a couple to everyone here, I could see how awkward Johnnie looked which made the smile on my face drop thinking he didn't like the idea of us being together.

We collected our food and slushies and decided to sit in a nice patch of grass that no one was really sitting at that had a nice view.

As we say down another orderly couple smiled at us muttering to each other about how adorable we looked together.

"wow three people in under 20 minutes" Johnnie chuckled a look I didn't recognise plastered on his face.

"yeah I guess we must look like a couple to them" I tried laughing to play it off.

But Johnnie turned to look at me, at first he didn't say anything and just looked like he was taking in every single feature that he could possiblly notice.

"well id be one lucky guy if what they were saying was true" he said boldly not taking his eyes off of me waiting for my reaction.

"w-what" I stuttered my heartbeat going up rapidly hoping I didn't misheard him, he stood up grabbing my hand and pulling me up so that I was standing in front of him looking straight into his eyes as he took a deep breath.

"look Yn, I can't keep it a secret anymore, I like you, like really like you maybe even love you That's how strong my feelings are for you and I can't possibly go another day without telling you how much you affect me, your style, your laugh, the little things that get you excited, how well you get along with Jake and scuff, and I hope even if you don't like me back that this won't change anything in our friendship as I can't loose you, your the only person that can make me feel so hap-"

I cut him off smiling brightly as I pulled his face into mine connecting our lips as he didn't waste anytime in kissing back snaking his arms around my waist and mine going around his neck.

The kiss was sweet and passionate, a moment Johnnie and I had been waiting for, forever.

As we pulled away my forehead rested against his as I muttered the words he was waiting to hear.

"I love you too"

Johnnie smiled pulling me into another kiss the Ferris wheel ride we were supposed to go on temporarily forgotten as we got lost in each other's embrace.