#i have a copy of this book in my drawer

[dipplin-daycare]

✿ 25 days of agere moodboards ✿

day 3: your favorite kid's book "To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world....”

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Quick question- do the zines eventually end up here or is that 100% a patreon exclusive?

Content made for the zines (like the Halloween pinups) are 100% exclusive to the zines. I may consider posting them much much later but the purpose is to make something special for the patrons <3

As far as comics go, I want to keep most of them public. If I make a comic for Patreon/zines I will most likely share individual panels and drawings from it public, but keep the actual full comic pages/storyline for Patrons only! If I end up posting the comic later you can consider Patreon early access!

[violent138]

Tim, looking around the darkened corridor: "You think it's a good idea to be breaking into random places right now?"

Jason said nothing, fumbling in his pockets.

Dick: "You live here, don't you?" Which gets everyone's attention laser-focused.

Jason just cast him a look, getting the door open.

Steph entered first, smacking into something that falls over. "Jeez." She complained, stumbling backward until Cass steadied her by the shoulders. "Sorry, that's my bad."

Duke turned on the lights in one motion, making everyone blink and wince.

"Get off me." Damian snapped, and Dick carefully let him go, letting him limp angrily into a chair. He frowned, scrutinizing the place. "You live here? Why would anyone--"

"Guys." Dick rubbed his eyes over the mask, cutting off Damian and Jason’s sharp answer. "First aid kit?" Dick asked Jason tiredly.

Jason nodded, moving to get it and heard Damian ask "What?" in response to a patented glare he must be getting.

Tim had made a beeline for the kitchen. "Dude, why do you have a singular set of dishes? And why are there just guns in this cabinet?"

Jason scoffed, handing Dick the kit. "Didn't realize I was running a fucking bed and breakfast."

"There's guns in this cabinet too!" Tim shook his head, opening and closing two more. "Oh good, just large knives in this one."

At Tim's raised eyebrows, Jason went into the kitchen and shooed Cass down the counter she was perched on, grabbing the paper plates he kept in a drawer and shoving them into Tim's chest.

Glancing at the way Steph was rubbing her neck, slouched at the table, Jason grabbed two ice packs, sliding one her way and throwing the other to Damian.

Duke, taking a book off Jason's meticulously organized shelf: "Why do you have seven copies of Pride and Prejudice? Did you keep forgetting you bought it, or--?"

Jason, storming over to put the book back. "Stop."

Dick looked up from the wound he was stitching. "Are they different at at all?"

"Are they in different languages?" Steph asked.

"Did you barter them for food? Because your fridge is fucking empty." Tim reported.

Jason groaned, realizing that they weren't going to drop it. "One has a different introduction and one is the zombies version. And yes, the rest are the same, now could you all stop touching stuff?"

"Why do you have five copies of the same book?"

[commodorez]

Zoomer here, and I do indeed have questions about computers- how do filesystems work, and why should we care (I know we should, but I'm not exactly sure why)?

So why should we care?

You need to know where your own files are.

I've got a file on a flash drive that's been handed to me, or an archival data CD/DVD/Bluray, or maybe it's a big heavy USB external hard drive and I need to make a copy of it on my local machine.

Do I know how to navigate to that portable media device within a file browser?

Where will I put that data on my permanent media (e.i. my laptop's hard drive)?

How will I be able to reliably find it again?

We'll cover more of the Why and How, but this will take some time, and a few addendum posts because I'm actively hitting the character limit and I've rewritten this like 3 times.

Let's start with file structure

Files live on drives: big heavy spinning rust hard drives, solid state m.2 drives, USB flash drives, network drives, etc. Think of a drive like a filing cabinet in an office.

You open the drawer, it's full of folders. Maybe some folders have other folders inside of them. The folders have a little tab with a name on it showing what's supposed to be in them. You look inside the folders, there are files. Pieces of paper. Documents you wrote. Photographs. Copies of pages from a book. Maybe even the instruction booklet that came with your dishwasher.

We have all of that here, but virtualized! Here's a helpful tree structure that Windows provides to navigate through all of that. In the case of Windows, it's called Explorer. On OSX MacOS, the equivalent is called Finder.

I don't have to know where exactly everything is, but I have a good idea where thing *should* based on how I organize them. Even things that don't always expose the file structure to you have one (like my cellphone on the right). I regularly manually copy my files off of my cellphone by going to the Camera folder so I can sift through them on a much bigger screen and find the best ones to share. There are other reasons I prefer to do it that way, but we won't go into that here. Some people prefer to drag and drop, but that doesn't always work the same between operating systems. I prefer cut and paste.

Standby for Part 2!

[bookshelf-dust]

something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.” 

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant. 

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag. 

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter. 

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him. 

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in. 

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is. 

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…” 

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall. 

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem. 

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie. 

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you. 

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson. 

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob. 

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help. 

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy. 

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside. 

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks. 

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor. 

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass. 

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines. 

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him. 

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger. 

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning. 

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance. 

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him. 

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now. 

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms. 

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow. 

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin. 

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer. 

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible. 

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door. 

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter. 

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time. 

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work. 

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine. 

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace. 

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be. 

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself. 

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks. 

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera. 

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling. 

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like? 

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around. 

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle. 

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders. 

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears. 

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms. 

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s. 

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie. 

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!” 

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in. 

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even. 

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for. 

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes? 

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive. 

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality. 

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first. 

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer. 

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month. 

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door. 

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep. 

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front. 

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.” 

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say. 

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh. 

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction. 

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom. 

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today. 

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction. 

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality. 

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies. 

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go. 

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it. 

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose. 

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly. 

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open. 

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually. 

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him. 

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors. 

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him. 

Eddie says your name. 

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face. 

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering. 

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?” 

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion. 

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it. 

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright. 

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you. 

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word. 

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin. 

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness. 

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet. 

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest. 

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink. 

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction. 

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm. 

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him. 

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing. 

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps. 

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him. 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring. 

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished. 

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him. 

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?” 

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in. 

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it. 

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers. 

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on. 

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him. 

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say. 

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

When TXT is making you feel comfortable: habits, routines and rituals that occur when they prioritize your comfort

5 short scenarios per member listed

wc (in total): 1943

no warnings

When Yeonjun is making you comfortable...

... he has his apartment stocked with products that make you feel at home. He has your favorite snacks. He bought your favorite clothes as substitutes that he keeps in his closet for when you stay over. He has some copies of your favorite books and gets some magazines you enjoy. If you're a person who menstruates, he of course has all possible period products ready. If your hobby is painting, he has all utensils at his place. If you are currently into lifting weights and working out, he creates a little sport corner for you. 

'Top drawer on the right', he yells after you when you leave is room to go to the kitchen, because you feel like having a snack.

'Look at the bag in my closet', he instructs when you spilled on your favorite shirt, while he gets the detergent ready to wash your shirt right away.

... he is with you when you decide to face your fears. If he can and it makes sense, he is with you in person, but otherwise, he offers you to be on a call with him or text him. One or the other way,  he will be with you.

'Three, two, one and you go inside, okay? I'll stay on the call and you can return right to my voice if you want to, yeah? Now, my brave baby, three, two, and one'.

... he is his crazy self around you and is the happiest when you slowly allow yourself to let your guard down and become more unhinged yourself. 

'That doesn't sound like a chicken. My donkey impression totally beats yours. Try again'. 

... he directly protects you from others. Whether it's strangers or friends, encountering you with inappropriate intentions or ignorant jokes, he shields you. 

'Keep walking', he spits at a man who is eyeing you up and down when you are outside. Yeonjun pushes himself between you and the crowd immediately and takes your hand to pull you behind him, not letting go of you until he feels like it's rather safe again. 

... he lets you sleep. Regardless if you fall asleep on his bed, taking up all the space or of you fall asleep directly on him, he lets you. The only time he moves you is when your position looks rather uncomfortable and possibly damaging if you remain lying  like that for too long. 

'Oh? Am I that comfy?', he whispers as he looks down on your sleeping figure on his chest, smiling to himself.

When Soobin is making you comfortable...

... he subtly bends his knees or leans against an accessible surface when he's talking to you, to not tower over you as much.

'Oh, why I'm leaning against the wall like this? I'm just a bit tired, that's all'.

... he carries all your bags at a shopping trip and cheers you on in every outfit you are trying out.

'This looks beautiful on you. Wait? Feels a bit too tight? Give me a second. I'll bring it in a different size', he says and rushes into the isles with bags already dangling from his shoulders. He always has capacity to carry just one more thing if it's for you.

... he never, NEVER, distances himself first when you hug. He always waits for you to be ready to let go, because he doesn't even want to give you one nuanced opportunity to doubt him wanting to be with you.

'I'm not letting go before you're ready', he whispers when you were already in his embrace for ten minutes, standing in the middle of the room. It doesn't matter if you are happy, sad, scared, worried. He is constantly ready to be your safe space. 

... he gives you the biggest side-eye. As much as he admires you, he doesn't put you on a pedestal. When your jokes aren't funny or you say something particularly dumb, he will silently let you know and expects to be treated the same. 

'What do you mean unicorns weren't real at least for one period of time on this earth? I literally saw a documentary about it!', he argues and has to contain himself to not burst into a laughter, seeing you shaking your head in disbelief with a big frown on your face. Those situations are so funny and carefree to him. 

... he has your back regarding everything. Regardless of how unrealistic or silly something may seem, he is always there, encouraging you to at least give it a shot. As uncertain a situation, a project, a try may be, he remains your certain stability. 

'So what if it's stupid? You're curious of it. It excites you, so go and see if it could be working for you', he says and adds that regardless of what happens, in the end of the day you can just return to him as always. 

When Beomgyu is making you comfortable...

... he waves at you when he sees you walking towards him, but is surprised to see you turning around to look at the other people who are walking down the street in an attempt to figure out if he might be meeting someone else.

'I was waving at you, you know', he says after greeting you when you are finally standing in front of him.

... he is puzzled to find you wearing long pajama pants as it is a warm summer night during which he is staying over at your apartment. He toys with the fabric when you sit down next to him and experimentally pulls the fabric up your leg a bit. 

'Isn't it way too warm in those?', he questions and listens to you negating in an obvious lie. 

'Just wear shorts. I won't do or think anything inappropriately only because I see your skin', he assures and when you leave to your bedroom to get changed, he adds, 'And don't you dare forcing yourself into that bra any longer'. 

... he observes you lingering a bit closer around him than usually when you feel particularly down. 

'Want to hug?', he simply asks and opens his arms when you shyly nod, inviting you into his embrace at your own pace. 

... he slides on the bench to sit right next to you when you are particularly anxious in a cafe, and he opens his hand as he watches you trying to hide your own trembling one. 

'I'll hold you', he offers and waits for you to place your palm on his. Then he gently encloses his fingers around your hand and makes you shift your focus by asking you to count every brown item you could see in the room. 

... he lets you wear his clothes, either when you're freezing and need extra layers or when it's warm outside but you don't want to wear too revealing clothes. 

'I have a whole closet, just try my clothes'. 

When Taehyun is making you comfortable...

... he doesn't interrupt you. When you are speaking, regardless of how loud and enthusiastic or how quiet and hesitant you are when talking, he listens patiently. 

'No, keep talking. I wanna hear', he encourages when you insecurely stop yourself from sharing. 

... he challenges you. If you want to do something, but doubt yourself, he makes it into playful game to lift the pressure off your shoulders, stepping away from the burden of actively existing. 

'One hour? Okay, one hour and then we'll see who manages to write more applications. Winner gets, hmm, one wish. Anything? Yeah? Let's go', he cheers and starts typing right away.

... he coexists with you in silence. Grocery shopping, cleaning, reading, whatever it is, he doesn't force conversations. Eye contact, gentle smiles, pointing at items, that's already such richness of mundanity. 

'They have your ice cream on sale', he informs and watches you hurrying down the isle to grab some packages, happily smiling at him. 

... he directly teaches and explains things. He doesn't leave room for any condescension. If you don't know something or make a mistake and he knows then he just explains. If you want to learn something he already knows how to do, he offers to teach you if you want. 

'I know this choreo. Want me to play dance teacher?', he asks in a laugh, happy at the thought of spending time with you while you explore your interest. 

... he simply assures and compliments you. 

'You're doing great today', he beams when you tick off another point on your to-do-list and later on doodles a little smiley face on the bottom of your paper. 

When Kai makes you comfortable...

... he takes interest in your interests to genuinely connect with you when you share pieces of your realms of curiosity. 

'Omg, the new episode of your favorite show is online', he informs you in excitement and watches you grabbing your phone to check it yourself. To the question if it would be fine if you watch it now, he just nods and asks if he can join you. 

... he reserves spots for you. In restaurants and cafes he always makes sure you have a place to arrive to when he is there earlier or you are definitely running late. At home he has one plushie that is assigned to you, so it can occupy a chair or one side of the bed, keeping others away from your destined space. 

'Over here', he says loudly when he sees you entering the cafe. He towers over the present people and waves you over to his table, where an empty chair and a cookie or fruit bowl or whatever snack you like, is waiting for you. 

... he laughs with you. He genuinely enjoys your humor and he will not leave you hanging whenever you are telling a joke and make a sassy remark. When you are being clumsy, he laughs it off with you. There is no second of insecure embarrassment when he is around. 

'Yo! I tripped over that exact edge yesterday, too!', he squeals as he holds you by your arm to prevent you from falling and bursts into laughter simultaneously with you when your eyes meet. 

... he lets you be shy. You talk too quietly for people to understand what you're saying? He translates calmly and with a sense of protection over you, his expression telling the listener not to dare making an unnecessary comment regarding your behavior. He lets you hide behind him when you are too shy to face someone or something. 

'Come here', he whispers when he notices your shyness and opens his jacket for you to step closer to him where he can hide you between the fabric and his body, telling people who look confused, that he's freezing a bit.

... he always responds to you. Any question you could possibly ask will get a useful answer and even if it's just him informing over his state of uncertainty regarding a topic or a repeated answer to a repeated question. He doesn't waste time engaging in the reality in the form that  it matters to you.

'Yes, of course I'd love you if you were a worm'; 'My first thought is that I don't mind either, but I feel like I tend to prefer pizza over burger today'; I said it minimum hundred times already, but here is another reminder: You look great and I am going to cuddle you to sleep in every state of your body'. 

[taurussbabe]

In a heartbeat

note: something short but sweet, hope you like it. 💌 word count: 1,1 k

“I love you” you heard charles say softly, almost inaudible. He was laying on top of you, head on your chest, his thumb gently caressing your waist. There was barely any sound in the room, only the soft sound of the pages of your book turning and both yours and charles breathing.

One of your hands was placed on his hair, removing it every time you had to turn a page, and the other was holding you book. “I love you, too” you replied in the same tone as his.

“no” he said, turning his head so that his chin was now resting on your chest, his cheek slightly red for being pressed against your skin “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone”

He pulls you down by your waist before you can even respond, pressing a kiss to your lips “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone too” you say, breaking off the kiss, pressing your naked bodies against each other even more.

“I don’t think I could live without you, you’re everything to me. I wake up, you’re the first thing in my mind, I go to bed, you’re the last person I think of, hell, I even dream about you. You’re the one, you’re the one I want to spend every day with” you look in his eyes for a second, because what do you respond to that.

“you’re the one for me too, and don’t worry, you don’t have to think about living without me, because you’re stuck with me, forever” you chuckle, pecking his lips, but you notice how he doesn’t chuckle back, leaving you worried for a split second. “Are you ok?”

“Marry me” he says suddenly

“What?”

“Marry me, I don’t want to think about spending another day without you, I want to be yours forever, to wake up next to you every day. You’re the reason I keep going when I feel like I can’t. I used to think needing to have a lucky charm was for people who didn’t have the right mentality, then I met you and I knew that it was bullshit, because you are my lucky charm, so, marry me, I’ll propose to you in a romantic way, how many times you want, but say yes, please, say you’ll marry me”

You felt all sort of emotions at the same time, you didn’t know what to say, what to do, so you kiss him fiercely, pouring all the love you have for him in that kiss, because you’d say yes, of course you would, you would say yes in a heartbeat the amount of times he wanted to.

You noticed he took a second to kiss you back, but when he did, it was just as passionate as yours. Your hands flew to his hair and his to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Eventually, you broke off the kiss to be able to breath “Yes”

“Yes?” he looked at you, a sparkle of hope ever so evident in his eyes

“Yes” you placed both hands in his face, pulling him towards you. You were about to kiss him once again when he reached for the drawer on his bedside table, shoveling through some things before pulling out a black box. He sat up, pulling the covers up to his waist and you copied his movements, pulling the blanket to cover your naked chest.

“Ma chéri, will you, officially, marry me?” tears filled your eyes as he opened the tiny little box that revealed a beautiful ring that he carefully took out and placed on your finger as soon as you nodded. He laid his hand on your cheek and kissed your lips in the softest way he has ever, resting your foreheads together. “Je t’aime” he kissed your cheek and all the way down to your neck, to that soft spot that made you moan and bring both his hands to his hair, letting the blanket fall. he kissed you and bit your lip slightly You laughed at him and he sucked on your lip to clean out the blood he had made.

Safe to say that no one heard from the two of you for hours.

[heartkaji]

ren kaji likes sharks.

it was a shocking discovery you made the day you visited his home. he had photo albums from his childhood hidden away in his bedroom drawers, and when you stumbled upon them he fished the books out of your hands and shut the drawer immediately. when kaji slips away for his nightly shower however, you’re quick to reopen his drawer, phone in hand and more than ready to take as many pictures as possible.

baby kaji is always dressed head to toe in shark patterned clothing.

the first page of the album is a polaroid of four year old kaji in a shark onesie. the second is him playing in the rain with a great white umbrella and hammerhead rain boots. the third is a collage of different moments of seven year old kaji leading up to his eighth birthday, each polaroid decorated with shark stickers and the occasional stingray. you keep flipping and flipping, and you soon make it to a page dedicated to kaji’s tenth birthday : a polaroid of ten year old kaji blowing out candles from a jaws cake with a silly, oversized shark fin hat resting on his smaller head, the front of the cap drooping over his eyes.

“the fuck are you doing ?”

you drop the photo book with a thud. you’re caught red handed and fuck you should’ve been more careful and kaji’s gonna fucking kill you and-

is that a great white shark towel ?

“you like sharks.”

kaji’s cheeks are blood drenched. “the hell are you on about—“

you point to his towel, “you like sharks. oh my god, kaji you like sharks.”

the blood on his cheeks creep up to his ears and it takes everything inside you not to burst out laughing. who would’ve thought big bad wolf ren kaji would be a great white enthusiast ?

“if anyone at furin hears about this you’re done.”

“don’t worry ren, your secret’s safe with me.”

( your secret was in fact not safe with him, and kusumi and umemiya had quite the field day with the new information. )

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

a/n : based on a personal hc i have that kaji is a shark fan <3

[webslingingslasher]

hi j! what are cherry and peter doing right now??

comfortable silence.

peter's studying for an upcoming test and you're honed in on your current romance read. the main lead is cute, but nothing can top your peter parker fantasies.

'cherry?'

you finish your paragraph before looking at him, he's smiling a little too hard. 'you're so pretty.' you softly grin, feeling your lips curve up. 'and so is your handwriting.'

your eyebrows furrow at the odd compliment, you'll still accept it. 'thank you, lover.' peter clicks his pen a few times before finally coming clean. 'can you do me a favor? a really giant favor?'

you look down at your book and count the pages until the next chapter, you inwardly sigh and mentally commit before you bargain with him. peter's taught you there's give and take with love.

'can it wait three pages?' peter nods once, 'it can wait.' you give him a thumbs up and read a little faster for him, shutting the book with a satisfied smile once you reach chapter sixteen.

'what's the favor?'

peter turns back around, he looks guilty. he feels bad for asking. he holds up a blank piece of paper, you look at him for more context. 'we're allowed to use a cheat sheet for the test, one page only, front and back. i was wondering if you could do it for me?'

you pull a face, 'i don't know anything about what you're studying.' peter smiles and scrambles to pick up his notebook. 'no, no, i have it all highlighted. i just want you to copy it, i can't write that small and have it be legible.'

the task seems much more daunting than you expected. 'how much is there?' peter flips through the pages and lets out a deep breath, 'um, not much. just... basically everything?'

'oh boy.' peter took your boyfriend virginity and your real virginity, you can make a cheat sheet for him. it seems equal. 'pass it over, let me look at it.' once you have it in your hands you skim the highlighted areas, it would take some time and a dedication to splitting the sections to make it easier to read. you're already thinking of layouts.

'can i use my glitter pens?'

'absolutely.' the job just got easier. you nod confidently and agree to the ask. 'i can do that for you, petey. can i take it with me or do you need your book?'

peter rubs his lips together, he's staring at the holy grail that is super advanced something chemistry. he doesn't want you to take it but he's asking you for a favor so he's not sure how or if he can form the word no.

you do it for him. you're winning all the girlfriend awards today.

'nevermind, we'll keep it here.' peter visibly relaxes. 'but i need some markers, we're about to get real arts and crafty up in this bitch.' peter starts digging in his desk drawers, a box of markers tossed on the bed and a random textbook to follow as a makeshift table.

'i bet no one else's girlfriend is making their boyfriend's cheat sheet.' you start at the beginning and ask for more supplies. 'i need a ruler and a pencil. and the same color highlighters you used. oh, and that pen i like.'

peter's already collecting the tools, looking around his room for your bag. 'are your glitter pens in your bag?' you forgot you had them with you, the entire pencil case would be a savor right now. 'yes, but i left it downstairs.'

to peter, you're doing the biggest favor he's ever asked. he's willing to hunt and gather the supplies you need to make his life easier. 'on it. stay here and look pretty.' he's moving quick, you call out to him as he passes through the door. 'can you bring the whole thing, please?'

he doesn't respond but he comes right back up, pink bag in hand. 'where they at?' you point at the big pocket, your cherry printed pencil bag is handed over. (a gift from peter.)

'anything else? you want a coke, or a snack, or something?' you shake your head and start a header title for the first section, you're locked in. 'i'm okay.'

you highlight the title, there's another want brewing in your mind. 'actually...' peter perks right up, 'yes?' you pucker and tap your lips, your boyfriend is at your side and leaning down in seconds. three soft pecks, each one feels like an 'i love you.'

'you're sure there's nothing else you need?' he feels bad, it's a big ask. you've caught on and you're pushing him away gently. 'do you want me to do this or not?' peter nods quick and takes a large step back. 'i do, i just feel bad.'

'well, don't. and while i'm working on this you better keep revising, because you're going to bed at a decent time tonight, mister. and because you know how much i love the sound of your keyboard when you type.'

it's true, you've fallen asleep to the quiet clicking more than a few times.

peter bites back a smile. 'yes, ma'am.' you blow a kiss, 'good boy.'

peter revised, went to bed on time, and smugly showed off your work the following tuesday in class. 'see how organized this is, isn't my girl the best?'

peter passed with flying colors, he swears it's because of your cheat sheet and color coding. you tell him not to discredit his brain, he tells you not to discredit your work.

you compromise and accept the passing score with him because he swears it was built on teamwork. you think it's so you'll make him another the next time he asks.

and next time you'll be prepared with glitter glue. 

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[babysukiii]

not her type

// leighton is a bit sweet on you (the librarian’s student assistant). you begin to fall for the blonde, until you hear her say something that causes you to reconsider your feelings. //

warnings: leighton is an idiot when it comes to emotions, reader is oblivious but so is leighton, misunderstandings, mutual pining don’t let the title fool you, jealousy (leighton gets jealous), kinda angsty

(i changed my username i was @fckoffjakegyllenhaal)

DISCLAIMER; english is not and has never been my first language. i usually edit my works well but don’t have time anymore. sorry for any spelling errors!

leighton didn’t have the most common sense when it came to dating. she was a genius, and she was the smartest person she knew. she was top of most of her classes, and she knew she was beautiful. though when it came to emotions, and her love life, leighton was nearly hopeless. to put it frankly, she’s an idiot when it comes to love.

when leighton first met you, she already wasn’t off to a very good start. she sauntered into the library in her expensive heels, along with her matching skirt and blazer. as soon as you saw her you were extremely intimidated by her. you were only able to attend this school because your grandma had left you a nice wad of money in her will. even with what she left you, you still had to get a job at the school’s library to pay off the remaining student loans. but you knew you didn’t fit in here. the school was full of pristine, preppy, rich kids. like her.

“i need to rent a copy of the black sun.” she deadpans, as she stands up straight in front of the counter. “then maybe you should go and get it so i can check it out for you?” you suggest in a sardonic manner, and the blonde looks visibly stunned by your careless tone. “okay, i’m assuming it’s your first day here or something, but it’s literally your job to find the books students need.” she points out, and you quirk a brow. “no, my job is to keep the library organized, and help students when they ask for help. key word ask. which you didn’t; you waltzed in here like princess diana and ordered me to get you a copy of ‘black sun’.” you remind her, your words as hot as the fire in your tone.

that’s when leighton takes you in; your long curly hair, and high rise jeans. that top your wearing fits you nicely, and for some reason the fact that you aren’t hurdling to do what she says, leaves a fluttering sensation in her belly. “hey, you don’t have to be such an asshole! excuse me if i thought someone who works in the library was competent enough to get me the correct copy of a book. my mistake.” she fires back, and you shake your head.

“i am plenty competent enough, blondie. i just don’t help self entitled jerks who think the world has to stop at their convenience.” you retort, “now, if you excuse me, i’m taking my first break now. come back in half an hour.” you deadpan; your voice is dry, and leighton’s eyes widen in shock. “you can’t just do that!” she shrieks, and if she wasn’t such a mean girl, you would’ve thought the way her voice changed in pitch was cute as hell. you smirk, “just did.”

leighton lets out a huff, “fine! i��ll just get it on pdf, jerk face.” her lame insult makes you bite back a laugh as she storms away. you can’t help but watch her hips move as she leaves; god, she’s hot but so fucking rude. maybe this job isn’t so bad; getting to tick off straight, prissy girls like blondie was going to the highlight of your career. though you put aside a copy of black sun later that day, just in case she comes back.

which she does.

she returns the next day with this determined look on her face. “okay, yesterday i was a bit of a bitch.” she starts carefully, and you quirk a brow in a bit of interest as you look up from your phone. “a bit?” you question, and her fake smile falls immediately. “i’m trying to be nicer now.” her stony expression causes you to sigh. you reach inside the desk drawer where you hid the copy away for this exact moment.

her eyes nearly widen for a split second as she realizes you did in fact retrieve her the copy of the book she needed. “so you did do it for me.” her voice sounds a bit different now; a little lighter, but you try not to dwell on it. “yeah, well, it’s my job, right?” you respond dryly, as you begin to scan the book, “library card or student id.” you command, and she reaches into her expensive bag, pulling out her matching wallet. she hands you her library card, which you scan quickly and hand back to her. “you have two weeks to return it.”

“i know how the library works.” she grows irritated with the lack of emotions in your voice, and she assumes you’re probably just annoyed by her presence. “sorry, i wasn’t sure considering you don’t know how manners work.” leighton gasps, a look of clear anger and offense etching itself onto her pretty features. “i already apologized for that!” she defends, and you tilt your head, cocking a brow at her. “i never heard an “i’m sorry”.” your fake confused tone is enough to irk her but keep her interested in talking to you.

she closes her eyes for a second, before releasing a defeated breath. “i’m sorry…” she trails off, realizing she didn’t even get your name. “… y/n.” you finish, and her belly flips at the revelation. “y/n. i’m sorry.” she repeats, and you roll your eyes a bit playfully. “it’s fine. i guess you weren’t the rudest rich-priss i dealt with yesterday. why do you think i saved the book for you?” you taunt her, and the flush on her cheeks causes your smirk to widen.

“mmm, i’m sure you probably have a drawer full of books that those “rude rich-priss’s” asked for.” she challenges, and you offer her this infectious smile that causes her to lose her train of thought. “only the pretty ones. the eye candy makes the lack of human decency worth it.” you hand her the book and the mischief in your eyes allows her to know you’re kidding, but your words make her snort. “aren’t you a charmer. see you in two weeks.” she waves the book at you, before turning on her heels and leaving.

god, the pants she was wearing today made her ass look great.

you shamelessly watch her leave, and before she gets to the doors, you call out, “i like watching you leave, blondie.” your crude comment causes her to stop in her tracks; her face is suddenly red as a tomato. leighton’s brain that is usually amazing at thinking of insults or remarks, cannot conduct a single thought. she only scoffs, as she pushes the exit door open, and your grin widens.

you really don’t expect to see leighton outside of the library. it isn’t because you assume she doesn’t go out or hang around campus, it’s because aside from your dorm, you’re only ever in your classes and the library. so when you see her walk into the cheap bar downtown you decided to try by complete chance, your gaze zero’s in on her. an inevitable grin tugging at your lips, and she doesn’t seem to see you. she’s looking around the other side of the room, like a lost puppy. when she walks by, you keep you head low, trying to go unnoticed by her. once her back is to you, you turn your head in her direction; “nice ass, blondie.” you comment with a sneer, and leighton freezes at the sound of your voice.

when she spins around, she attempts to plaster a vexed expression on her face, but as soon as she sees you she sighs. “ugh, what are you doing here?” she asks, attempting to sound annoyed. you wave a can of hard seltzer in your hand, “sorry excuse for a drink.” she mumbles, as she takes a seat in the empty bar stool beside you. you shoot her a defensive look, “hey, i get buzzed quickly and it has less calories in it.” you mutter, a surprise expression taking over the blonde’s face. you just sounded so undeniably girly.

she doesn’t respond before flagging the bartender down, “one long island iced tea, and two shots of tequila.” she orders, handing the bartender her card as she speaks. you gaze at her, “jesus, blondie, rough day?” you can’t help but ask, and leighton sighs. “rough week. you wouldn’t even know the half of it.” she responds, as the bartender begins to make her drinks. “try me.” you challenge, and she glances at you. for a moment she considers closing herself off, but then she remembers what esme and francesca said. about how closed off she was.

she downs a shot that’s placed in front of her and proceeds to tell you everything. how lonely she’s been since she started school, how her brother doesn’t even know how she’s feeling… she even tells you about francesca and esme. “wait, were you really closed off with them?” you ask, and she huffs. “closed off is a little bit of a stretch.” she responds, and you flash her an “are you serious” sort of expression. “you said you were friends with them since you were kids. you aren’t supposed to be closed off with them.” you remind her, and she frowns, taking a long swig of her drunk, finishing the rest of it in a gulp.

“now you sound like them.” she states, causing you to scoff. “look, i’m not saying you being closed off was entirely your fault, blondie. i mean, those girls must’ve been pretty shitty if it made you wanna hide who you really are.” you tell her, and she goes quiet. “i think you just naturally hide yourself from everyone. i mean, i thought i had a little bit of you figured out, then i saw you in this place…” you trail off, and the blood rises to leighton’s cheeks.

“didn’t expect a rude “rich-priss” like me to be in here?” she questions, and the way the ends of your lips quirk upwards causes the butterflies in her stomach to flutter. “exactly. i thought you were more of a frat party kind of girl. i’m sure those kind of boys go crazy over you, blondie.” the way your eyes roam over her mercilessly causes a strange heat in her abdomen. she shakes her head, the thought of frat boys making her snicker, “yeah, they’re into anything with long legs.” she murmurs, “good thing i hate men.” she adds, and your eyebrows seems to raise in interest.

“i just mean—“ she tries, but you cut her off,

“hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. there’s plenty enough about guys to hate.” you assure her, and she sinks into her seat. “is that why you’re here tonight instead of hanging out on campus?” she questions, “don’t think i haven’t noticed how many jocks are suddenly going into the library now. just cause you’re working there.” she adds, blabbering slightly. your smile widens at the very leighton-like compliment. “tell me about it, i don’t even think some of the guys who’ve gone in there can read past an eighth grade level.” you throw out, and leighton releases this carefree laugh that causes you to stare at her in awe.

thankfully the look of adoration you’re flashing her goes unnoticed as she adds, “eighth grade is generous.” she jokes, making you giggle.

things change between you and leighton after that. you’re sort of the first person who makes her feel normal. you don’t really expect her to be anything, and talking to you is so much easier than talking to anyone else. eventually leighton begins to find herself, and ends up growing close to her roommate and her roommate’s friend group. you smile at her whenever you see them in the library, and the blonde doesn’t hesitate to approach you.

even though she’s reluctant to admit it to herself, she begins to realize she’s developing a bit of a soft spot for you. maybe it’s more than “a bit”. she starts to sought you out in every room she enters, and every time she’s on campus. when she enters the library, she beelines to wherever you are. you’d be lying if you said leighton isn’t the best part of your days; she is. it’s silly, really, every morning you wake up and get ready with the hopes that maybe she’ll pop up in the library.

when she does stop by, she attempts to make it seem like she’s looking for a book. she doesn’t want you to know that sometimes she just drops by when she wants to see you. so maybe leighton is sweet on you; after hooking up with a few girls at the beginning of the semester she began to notice women more and more. she noticed you the first time she saw you. even though you were nothing like what leighton was usually into; you were soft, and sweet underneath all the sarcastic and witty remarks. you weren’t vastly intelligent, but you were really smart. you read more than anyone she knew.

it only takes leighton four months to pick up on everything about you. your mannerisms, what makes you laugh, your interests, and your disinterests. she pays so much attention to you, she doesn’t even realize she’s becoming enthralled by you. even her friends notice how soft leighton is with you. it’s much more than just a silly crush though; leighton thinks of you as a confidant, and more importantly one of her close friends. you’re actually the first person she tells when she begins to see alicia.

though you feel a little jealous about it, you’re happy leighton is finally coming to terms with who she is. you even tell her this, and it causes leighton’s heart to swell. she still hasn’t figured out why her heartbeat quickens around you, or what the fluttering sensation in her belly is that’s caused by your laugh… but she is trying not to ruin the best friendship she’s had.

you never meet “alicia”. you aren’t sure what they look like, what their last name is, or how they behave around leighton. though you do notice a lighter aura around the blonde. it’s nice to see her so relaxed, and not so tightly wound up. though the relaxation was short lived because one evening leighton comes storming into the library, and she’s glaring daggers at anything in her way.

“woah, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, immediately hopping off the edge of the desk you were sitting on. you close the book you had been reading, and your attention is suddenly on the raging force of nature in front of you. “alicia broke up with me. you remember how i told you they got upset about me asking them to take down that picture?” she asks, trying to keep her voice at a leveled tone, but you can hear the bitterness seeping through. you nod, “the one with your expensive ass purse in the back that would’ve been a total give away?” you ask, and she nods, not even adding onto your sarcasm. usually she would.

you frown, “what happened?” you ask her in a gentler manner, “they said they didn’t want to be with someone who’s not out. they don’t want to my secret.” you frown, looking visibly upset by the revelation. “are they serious? it’s been like two months, that’s like a blink! how does alicia expect you to be ready in two months?” you sound just as vexed as leighton, and it causes the blonde’s anger to simmer ever so slightly. “that’s what i said… i haven’t even told my friends… you’re the only person who knows.” the taller girl reveals in this washed out voice that makes your stomach flip.

“yeah, but that’s different. i’m just me.” you shrug, and she furrows her eyebrows, “it’s just easier for me to talk to you, and be me around you.“ she adds, and the heat rises to your cheeks. “why?” you can’t help but ask, and leighton looks taken back by the question. as if she’s never even thought twice about it. she pauses before giving you a little shrug, momentarily forgetting all about her breakup. “well, you’re you.” she explains vaguely, and you let out a breathless little chuckle.

“i’ll take that as a compliment, blondie.” you taunt her, and she feels a smile tugging at her lips for the first time all day. “take it any way you want.” she responds, and you grin. “look, my shift ends in like twelve minutes. wanna go get a few drinks? on me.” you promise her and she rolls her eyes. “my dads loaded, remember?” she asks, and you giggle, “okay, drinks are on you then.” you retort, and she lets out this breathless little laugh.

so maybe you make leighton feel better than anyone ever has. after a night of getting drunk and laughing at drunk couples argue in the bar, she finds the courage to tell kimberly she’s gay. after that, telling people gets easier. maybe it’s because she’s realized you’ve become one of the most important people in her life, and she was starting not to care about the opinions of anyone else. in fact, leighton found herself coming to you for your opinion on everything. even what shoes she should buy.

it was amusing; becoming leighton murray’s favorite person. she complains about everything, she’s prissy, and keeps tide sticks in her purse. she’s your polar opposite, yet you can’t get enough of her. every friday night you both end up in that same shitty bar, giggling while talking about nothing and everything. it’s actually become leighton’s favorite part of the week.

you don’t want to admit it’s become your favorite part of the week as well. the longer you spend with her, the harder you fall for her. her cute smile, those intense blue eyes, the way she complains about every single thing. you like everything about her, even the parts that should annoy you and scare you away. a part of you thinks she feels the same way; there are times when you’re both the only two people in the library, and you catch her staring. not to mention how obviously happy she is around you.

“so there’s this party on friday. usually, i wouldn’t go, but whitney begged me. it’s at the kappa sorority house. can you come? please?” she questions pleadingly, and you flash her an uncertain expression. “a party?” you ask ambiguously, and leighton nods eagerly. “yeah, i know how it sounds, but i’ll be there and the drinks are all free. i mean, of course there is that exception to getting drugged but i can totally be your knight in shining armor.” she begins to ramble, and truthfully, you had already decided to go the moment she flashed you those begging eyes. “okay, fine. i’ll go. but to set the record straight, you aren’t a “knight in shining armor”. you’re more like a knight in vicuña wool.” you clarify, and she can’t help but laugh.

you keep your promise and end up at the frat party on friday. though you’ve been here for a whole semester now, you still hadn’t been to a single party. you weren’t sure if the tight flare jeans and tight yet basic fitted top, was good enough, but you tried not to overthink it. you were here because leighton asked you to be, and you were beginning to think you’d do just about anything she’d ask. as soon as you walk into the dimly lit frat house, the loud music and uncomfortable warmth of the room hits you.

you scan the hoard of students for the blonde, and you find her quickly. you smile at the sight of her, except it falters a bit when you notice how many girls are surrounding her. ever since leighton came out, it was no secret she was always getting hit on by various girls now. hell, she got hit on by girls before she was out, but now it was a whole different story. she was getting all sorts of attention, and a part of her really loved it. you could see the cocky smirk etched on to her features, as she holds onto her glass loosely. she doesn’t seem to see you as you get closer to where she is.

that’s when you can hear what she’s saying to one of the brunette’s flirting with her. “none of you are really my type.” she admits, and one of the girls doesn’t even seem phased. “well, what is your type?” she asks, and leighton shrugs. “my perfect woman would probably be 5’6, good style, preferably from a major metropolitan city, blonde…” you feel your heart crack in your chest as you realize you don’t fit any of those categories. you didn’t really have a type, but you certainly knew you were interested in leighton. it hurt to realize you weren’t anything she wanted.

it’s silly how much her words affected you, you shouldn’t have cared. besides, you and leighton are friends. it’s not like you’re anything more… sure she’s nice to you, makes you laugh, visits you at work every day, and even carries your favorite snack in her purse… but it doesn’t mean she wants to be anything more than friends with you. you turn around to leave quickly, you would have to give leighton some lame excuse about why you didn’t show, but it didn’t matter to you right now.

after the party leighton notices something is wrong right away. you had told her you didn’t feel well over text, and when she asked if you were okay, you didn’t text her back until the next morning. throughout the day, leighton was waiting on your replies; which was strange. you always texted her back fast. right after her last class, she makes her way to the library. when she gets there she gets a bit upset to see you don’t even seem remotely busy; yet as she gets closer to you, she can’t help take in how off your demeanor is.

you look sad, but you’re trying to keep your focus on a book that’s laid down on your desk. “hey y/n.” leighton pipes up, causing you to look over in her direction. you look like a deer in headlights, but you a press your lips together in order to force a smile. it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and it causes a wave of concern to wash over the blonde. “hey leigh.” you greet her, and she eyes you uncertainly. “you didn’t see my texts?” she asks, and you grimace. “i was super busy earlier, i barely got a break ten minutes ago.” you lie easily, and leighton wants to believe you, but she doesn’t.

you were acting weird, and it wasn’t enough for her to call you out on it. “mhm, well i was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch later?” she asks, flashing you a hopeful smile that makes it very hard to say no to her. “i-i can’t tonight. i have to study for my psych test on friday.” it’s not an entire lie; you have a test coming up in your psych class, but you don’t necessarily need to study for it that much. you know most of the material. you try to ignore the way leighton’s face falls in clear disappointment.

“oh, yeah. sure, maybe we can do something tomorrow?” she questions optimistically, and you nod meekly. “y-yeah! i’ll text you.” you assure her, and you mean it. you’re not just going to ghost and avoid leighton, you just needed a few days or so to get over her. or at least try to. “okay… i’ll see you later then.” you can hear the disappointment etched into her voice clear as day. you simply smile and nod, and she holds in the urge to let out a frustrated huff.

the blonde leaves the library feeling unsatisfied, but she isn’t sure what’s wrong so she hopes it passes. the entire day dragged on without you, and sometimes you were one of the few things that could actually get her to smile.

when leighton texts you goodnight later on that night, a wave of guilt washes over you. she was genuinely worried about you, and even though you had a hopeless crush on her, you knew she considered you a real friend. so the next day, you go back to texting leighton about every detail of your day, and when she shows up to visit you, you come up with some lousy excuse claiming to have had a long lasting migraine yesterday. leighton doesn’t buy it, but she’s just glad you aren’t acting different anymore.

the next two weeks are normal; you and leighton go out for drinks every friday, you get lunch from various restaurants and cafe’s together, and she still comes to visit you at the library every day after her classes. you’re back to you usual happy self in leighton’s eyes. maybe you really did have a migraine that day. though what leighton doesn’t know is whenever she’s not around you go back to feeling down. even quieter than usual.

sure, you knew the chances of leighton murray returning your feelings were slim to none… but you thought you had read all the signs correctly. apparently you were wrong. but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much; besides, leighton was just a crush, right? it’s not like you were in love with her or anything.

sure, you had denied every person who’s asked you on a date, or shown interest in you… but that had nothing to do with leighton.

oh who were you kidding? everything you did was because of leighton. she was your dream girl, and was also becoming your bestest friend. but you knew you had to get over her for the sake of that friendship. maybe that’s why you ended up giving your number to dani martinez, one of the girls on the softball team. she was tall, and had dark black hair that fell just bellow her shoulders; her eyes were dark and full of mischief. she flirted with you every time she came into the library, which wasn’t very often, but she was definitely very persistent.

today you had finally given her your number after rejecting her for two months. the gigantic smile that overtook her features as soon as you did, caused you to genuinely giggle. leighton ironically walks into the library as soon as dani walks out, and she greets you with that colgate smile which always causes the butterflies in your belly to burst. “hey you, come on we’re trying this new greek place today.” she tells you.

you flash her that sweet little smile, and that’s when it hits her that this is the first time in a month that she’s seen that genuine smile. it causes her to falter for a moment, “everything okay? you look happy.” she comments, trying not to sound too suspicious. you nod, “yeah, i’m good. come on, let’s go get some greek food.” you tell her, nudging her shoulder with your own. leighton decides not to press any further. she thought things were okay between you two, but perhaps she was wrong.

relax, leighton, you’re probably just overthinking things.

leighton’s subconscious attempts to soothe her, but she can’t help but wonder if maybe she did something wrong. did she say something rude? she had a tendency to say the wrong thing all the time… but you always understood her. you somehow always knew what leighton was trying to say, and it was nice. she felt like she belonged right beside you, and when she was talking to you, opening up came so easily. not to mention how kind you are, and leighton wasn’t blind. she was aware of how beautiful you are.

in her opinion you were perfect. that’s why it was so hard for her to just make a move on you; if you didn’t feel the same, it would crush her. everything you did already affected her, hell, when she thought you were upset with her last month she had a mini panic attack. today was friday and you canceled on her via text. she couldn’t even complain or ask you why, she knew it wasn’t really any of her business what you were doing on a friday night… but you always spent friday nights with her.

she ends up hanging out with whitney. the two were picking up some food from an italian restaurant down the street from the university. whitney has been wanting to try it for weeks, but leighton wasn’t even in the mood to eat. she was too busy wondering if you were busy with someone else tonight, or if you just didn’t want to hang out with her. she didn’t know which option was worse. she quickly gets her answer a few moments later. as if the universe hates her, she hears that carefree giggle of yours that always made her heart lurch in her chest.

her head snaps around at the sound, and the sight of you sitting in front of dani martinez— the softball teams pitcher— causes her heart to sink into the pit in her stomach. her gaze lingers on you as her eyes dare to tread down to see dani’s hand playing with yours on the table. you’re smiling at the raven haired girl with the same smile leighton thinks about nonstop throughout the day. to see it directed at some cliche jock made her angrier than she cared to admit.

dani martinez doesn’t deserve that smile.

“is that y/n?” whitney asks, squinting in your direction, “oh my god, is she here with dani? from the softball team?” the dark haired girl asks in a scandalous manner, causing leighton to scoff. “i’m sure they’re just here as friends or something. if y/n had a date tonight she would’ve told me.” leighton sounds as though she’s trying to convince herself more than her friend, but whitney doesn’t let up. “friends? friends don’t sit across from each other while holding hands.”

leighton frowns, her expression hardening as her gaze fixates on you. “i’m just gonna go ask her.” leighton declares, as she attempts to walk over to you, but whitney’s grasp around her wrist stops her. “you’re gonna crash her date?” she incredulously asks the blonde, who’s angry expression falters for a split second. “what else am i supposed to do? just let dani martinez sweep her off her feet?” leighton asks, and whitney flashes her a pointed look.

“haven’t you had months to make a move on y/n?” whitney inquires pointedly, doing nothing to ease the blonde’s vexation. “i’m working up to it!” leighton answers, agitation seeping through her tone. whitney cocks a brow in clear skepticism, “since when do you work up to anything? you’re the most impatient person i know!” whitney counterpoints, and leighton physically deflates. “it’s just… i don’t wanna ruin our friendship.” leighton’s voice is lower than before, and it causes her friends features to soften.

“yes you do; you’re just afraid she doesn’t feel the same or that it won’t work. it’s okay to be scared, you know?” whitney assures the blonde, who scoffs. “i’m not scared. leighton murray doesn’t get scared.” she tries to sound as confident as usual, but whitney can see right through her. leighton’s eyes trail over to you, and her heart cracks as she sees dani lean over the table to move a strand of hair out of your face. the way your cheeks flush in the same way they do whenever leighton fixes your hair for you, causes pure betrayal to course throughout her body.

she knew you weren’t technically hers, but watching someone else do something she always does for you makes something inside of her snap. “order for whitney.” the hostess says, as she brings out a bag of food. whitney gets distracted for a minute and it’s like leighton’s legs have a mind of their own. she begins to walk up to the table you’re sitting at; dani clearly didn’t know you preferred sitting in a booth.

you clock leighton as soon as you see her approaching the table. your eyes widen in slight panic, not because you don’t want her to interrupt your date, but because you didn’t even tell her about said date. the blonde really isn’t sure what comes over her; she hasn’t acted this rude or catty with you since you two started getting closer. yet as she stands beside your table, gazing at you with this intense pair of blue eyes that tell you firsthand just how upset she is… you know you’re in for it.

she folds her arms, not even bothering to greet you or dani. “hey leigh… what are you doing here?” you sound like you’ve just been caught doing something wrong, when you know you haven’t. you’re single, and not even leighton’s type, so why would she be upset about you having dinner with dani? “whitney and i came to pick up some pasta. what are you doing here?” she practically interrogates you, and before you can even think of a proper response, dani— who can nearly feel the jealousy radiating off of the blonde— beats you to it.

“we’re on a date.” the jock pipes up, and leighton can’t even contain a scoff. “i wasn’t taking to you, babe ruth. i was talking to her.” leighton doesn’t even bother looking at the raven haired girl, who’s jaw nearly falls agape due to the rude attitude of the blonde. you feel yourself getting smaller under her gaze, “i’ll let you two talk, i’m gonna get a drink from the bar.” dani declares as she stands up, and flashes you a small, reassuring smile. her gaze goes serious as she looks at leighton before walking off.

a silence takes over the two of you once you’re alone with the blonde. “this is what you bailed on me for?? shitty italian food with dani martinez?” leighton interrogates you, and your eyes lock with hers. “the foods not that bad.” you try to lighten up the mood, but it clearly doesn’t work because leighton is staring at you with this abnormally cold expression etched onto her features. the anger is still practically seeping off of her, and you can’t figure out why leighton is so upset about you being on a date with dani.

“you ditched our friday night hangout so you could go on a date with some wanna be max kepler.” she sardonically says, and you pause. “i don’t know who max kepler is… but dani is nice, leigh. what’s the actual problem here? i know this isn’t about me canceling.” you call her out, and leighton’s cold exterior falters; for a minute you can see just how betrayed she looks. “i just thought… i thought you’d rather go out with me. not some lame jock.” the way she says the words causes something inside of you to snap.

“of course i’d rather hang out with you, leighton, but dani asked me on a date.” you know it’s a stupid response, and you can tell by the way she’s staring at you with a look of disbelief. “so any lame jock asks you out and you’re saying yes? just like that?” leighton’s voice is catty and vexed, yet it sends a jolt of emotion into you. “well, yeah, at least someone’s asking me out. why do you even care? i’m not your type so who doesn’t matter who i choose to go out with?” you ask her, in an inscrutable manner that she’s never seen from you. leighton looks taken back for a moment, and for less than a second, her confused expression makes you feel a little bad. until you remember her words from that night. she specifically told you that you weren’t her type, you were actually far from it.

“what are you talking about?” she questions demandingly, and you go silent, unable to bring it in yourself to reveal to her that you were at that party a few weeks ago. how were you supposed to tell her that you heard what she said, and you were hurt about it? you didn’t want leighton to know you felt anything for her, you already knew she didn’t feel the same so what was the point of admitting it? you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, and you figured the best way was dating someone else to forget about her.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” leighton repeats, pulling you out of your thoughts. “i’m talking about that party you invited me to last month. i heard you talking to your little fan-girls. about your type.” you pettily throw out before you can even think about taking it back. leighton freezes, her entire demeanor shifting from confused to shocked in less than a second. “y/n i didn’t know you were there if i did—“ you cut her off, flashing her a look of disbelief. “if you did you would’ve what, leighton? lied to spare my feelings?” you inquire, undoubtedly angry.

leighton shakes her head rapidly, “no, i—“ she tries but dani returns before she can. “hey… i got you a strawberry margarita.” the jock has this nervous smile on her face, but leighton doesn’t seem to care that dani’s intentions are clearly pure. she doesn’t want any other girl taking you out on friday nights, and buying you fruity drinks. “we aren’t done talking here, martinez.” leighton angrily says, and you frown. “yes we are. dani and i are getting dessert after this.” you glare at her, mentally telling her to stop and go away.

her shoulders fall, and she visibly deflates. “y/n—“ she tries, but you shake your head. “please just go.” you can barely meet her gaze, and her heart clenches in her chest, as if it’s being squeezed so tight it might pop. the blonde wants to say something else, except she doesn’t know what else to say. or maybe she does. maybe leighton knows she should tell you how much she likes you; how despite you being nothing she’s usually into, she is. she’s very into you.

but she doesn’t.

no, instead leighton turns around and makes her way to where whitney is waiting for her. her best friend has a pointed look on her face; she clearly already knows things didn’t just pan out well for the blonde. “let me guess, she got pissed at you for crashing her date?” whitney questions, and leighton is too deep in thought to even hear the dark haired girl. “did you see y/n at that party last month? you remember the one you invited me to for girls night?” leighton asks, and whitney shakes her head.

“no, i didn’t see her there. why? did something happen?” whitney questions, and the look on leighton’s face tells her everything she needs to know. “oh god, what did you do?” the dark haired girl asks, and leighton’s eyes widen. “okay, first of all, why do you assume i did something? and second of all, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. i don’t know why y/n is being dramatic.” she mutters, “she’s only on a date tonight so she could hurt me. i bet she knew we’d be here.” leighton doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, “we didn’t even know we were coming here until an hour ago.” whitney points out in an irritated manner.

leighton’s facade falls, and whitney can see the way leighton’s face contorts to a genuine expression. “she heard me talking to a few girls at that party last month… i was just talking out of my ass, you know? i was describing my perfect “type” of woman, and y/n heard.” leighton downplays it, and whitney raises a brow. “well, what did you say your type was?” the dark haired woman inquires, as they make their way to whitney’s dorm room. “i just said my perfect woman would probably be 5’6, good style, preferably from a major metropolitan city, blonde…” leighton’s voice fades off as she repeats her words from last month. there’s this overwhelming sense of dread that comes over her, and whitney stops in her tracks to throw leighton a surprised look.

“you basically said y/n wasn’t anything you wanted, leigh.” she points out, and leighton shakes her head quickly. “but i didn’t mean it! i was mostly describing a girl like me.” leighton admits, and whitney cocks a brow at her best friend, “and how would you feel if you heard her saying she wasn’t into blondes? or if she was describing her dream girl and you didn’t fit any of the criteria?” whitney asks, and leighton goes quiet.

“i have to go back and explain to her—“ leighton tries to speak, but her friend cuts her off with a sharp look and a shake of her head. “not now. she’s on a date, leigh. you gotta let her enjoy what’s left of her night. you can talk to her tomorrow.” whitney pointedly says, and leighton glances down at her shoes, letting out a breath. “fine. i’ll just let daniella try and get her into bed.” leighton bitterly says, and whitney laughs. “girl, y/n is so down bad for you, she’s not going to sleep with dani.” whitney assures her, and leighton sighs, unable to shake the thought from her mind.

tonight was going to be a long night.

[neil-gaiman]

Just finished "The Graveyard Book" for the first time. Absolutely loved it.

My version has copies of your handwritten pages in the back.

My question is: do you usually write stories free flowing like that in a notebook, or do you use a computer? Mix of both?

I know that I have a bad habit of consistently revising as I go when typing on my laptop. This is instead of writing the entire story first.

Many moons ago, when I was in school, I always had notebooks that I would fill with poems, story fragments, plays, etcetera.

As an adult approaching my forties, I have an obscene amount of beautiful, blank notebooks. A whole shelf full plus part of a drawer. It's an addiction.

It's a good reminder to start using those notebooks again.

(My research notebooks tend to be those school-style spirals.)

I hope you're feeling much better now.

- K

I write by hand to keep me moving forwards. It sounds like you should definitely break out some of those notebooks.

[swanlakebaby]

his secretary | pjm

prompt: jimin fucking his secretary

⸝⸝ pairing: dom!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: smut, dom jimin, sub reader, boss jimin, secretary, kissing, risky, sneaky, risky sex, cumming, orgasm, 18+

⸝⸝ word count: 1.6k

⸝⸝ note: kinktober 🎃 day seven :) i’ve been reading a lot of mystery books lately and i’ve decided i want to start a mini mystery series (with jimin ofc). this wouldn’t be a jimin x reader since there’d be a main character and she’d have a name… but i don’t know if people will be into that? if you are, send me name ideas in my requests :3 1. that would help A LOT & 2. i’d know people actually want to see something like that from me :,)

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

-

the elevator door dings, indicating you’ve reached your desired floor. you step off and look around. the hallways were empty. you frowned at the unusual sight. where is everyone? you thought to yourself. you took a left and began making your way down the quiet hallway. you stopped at the end of it and peeked into one of the meeting rooms. empty. it seemed like everyone had already left for the day, but it was only twelve.

“what do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice said from behind you. you jump slightly and spin around. jimin stood there, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he furrowed a curious eyebrow at you. “i was just—” you start before jimin cuts you off. “save it. come with me.” he turns on his heel, not allowing you to protest and heads toward the other end of the hallway until he reaches a private office space. his office was cold and neatly decorated, a large leather chair center of his computer desk with two smaller sets of the same style of his chair on the other side. “take a seat.” he says, closing his office door.”

he sits down and folds his arms over each other onto the desk. he doesn’t say anything and instead observes you. you began feeling tense and awkward, unsure of what the hell was even going on. “so, do you want to tell me why you were wondering around instead of doing your job?” jimin says finally, typing things into his computer. “it’s not like that…i got an email from one of the executives…he needed a refill on printer ink in his office. i was just going to replace it.” you explain to him. this explanation seems to irritate jimin more than reassure him. he combs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“how long have you been working here?” he asks. “almost two years, you know this.” you say in response, getting annoyed yourself. “right, and you should know that the seventh floor is always cleared out during lunch time. right?” jimin says, standing up and walking over to a tall cabinet that stood against the wall of his office. he grabbed a box of printer ink out of it and placed it on his desk. “i will email him and tell him to pick it up on his own time. you don’t work for him, you work for me. remember?” jimin says, blinking a few times out of annoyance before sitting back down. “yes sir.” you say with a nod. “can i go now?” you began sitting up. “one more thing..” jimin reaches down and opens a drawer from the side of his desk, pulling out a few stacks of papers. “i need these put into official packets. i need fifteen printed copies of this packet and i need them stapled and ordered into individual files. i have an important meeting and i need them ready for it. understood?” he says.

you knew he wasn’t actually asking if you understood, so you just took the papers and stood up, adjusting your office skirt and turn around to leave his office. “dick.” you say to yourself as you reach the elevators and head back to your desk.

when the day was over, you tiredly took the elevator up to the seventh floor. you knocked on jimin’s door and a soft “come in” prompted you to open his door. you walk in and place the fifteen copies of files onto his desk. he grabs one of them and skims through it, making sure you did your job right. “excellent work per usual.” he says satisfied, placing the file back. he stands up and walks over to you, catching you off guard. “are you leaving for the day?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “it’s three thirty so…yeah.” you say, looking down at your watch. “well, i guess i was being a bit of an asshole earlier right? i don’t want you to think i was on some sort of power trip like every other arrogant executive here.”

“mr. park, i didn’t know my opinion of you mattered so much.” you tease with a smile on your face. he chuckles, leaning back on his desk. “it does.” jimin steps closer to you, until you feel his soft breath against your skin. “stay late and have dinner with me.” he says. it didn’t seem like an option. “isn’t that quite unprofessional? it’s not even working hours.” jimin shakes his head. “don’t worry about it. what are you in the mood for?”

he reaches over his desk and picks up his phone. “i’ll just take my food to go if that’s okay. i don’t mind indian.” you say. he quickly orders indian take out and places his phone back onto his desk when he’s done. he stands there, looking at you, the same way he did earlier that day. “what..?” you ask, becoming flustered. he suddenly made you feel giddy and anxious, like he was constantly checking you out. “you don’t realize it, but you can come off quite attractive.” jimin says casually. you began to feel heat rise to your cheeks over jimin’s words. “well— thank you.” you look down awkwardly. jimin cups his hand on your chin and tilts your head up. without warning, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. pulling away slowly as he looks into your eyes. jimin smirked, knowing the affect he had on you.

he smelled clean and masculine, making you feel weak at the knees. jimin didn’t have on his suit jacket, his white collared shirt tugging at his body, showing off his lean figure. it felt like a random spark was lit and then set off between the two of you.

within the next few seconds, he was shirtless and hovering over you on his desk. his naked chest brushed against yours each time he bent down lower to give you a kiss on the lips. he began trailing them down, further and further. he made his way back up to you, his boxers rubbing against the fabric of your thin panties. your legs dangled off of his desk as he stood in between them. he opened a drawer and rummaged through a small pack of condoms, taking one out and impatiently ripping it open with his teeth. “really?” you furrow your eyebrow. “condoms in your office drawer?”

he chuckles, sliding his boxers down and putting the condom on. “don’t think i just go around fucking my employees. i was meant to take these home, i just got lucky.” he said with a wink. he slid your panties down, pulling one of your legs out of the hole. the panties casually dangled from your ankle as jimin lifted up your legs. you lay flat on his desk, ready for him. it felt as if this wasn’t your first time hooking up with him, like this was another causal friday. he slid right into you, your walls wrapping around him. he groaned as he fucked you, trying to be quiet in case any of the cleaning ladies so happened to be on this floor.

you locked his legs around his waist as he pounded himself into you, his eyes rolling back as you pushed him deeper inside of you. you held onto his arms, your back arched slightly above the desk. he sits you up and wraps an arm around your waist, picking you up causally and gently placing you back on the ground on your two feet. he turns you around and bends you forward over the desk, lifting one of your legs onto it as well. he continued fucking you, giving you light snacks on the butt.

he reached over you multiple times, covering his hand over your mouth, trying to refrain you from making too much noise. you wanted to feel all of him, the plastic barrier making frustrating you. you pull jimin away far back enough for him to slide out of you. you look behind your shoulder and wrap your hand around his dick, slowly sliding the condom off. he looks at you, furrowing his eyebrow. “are you sure?” he asks. you bite your lip and toss the condom onto the floor, turning back around and shaking your butt at him.

he wastes no time and slowly slides back into you, a low groan escaping his lips. you bit your finger, trying not to moan and try out. nothing ever compared to the full, raw, real thing. jimin couldn’t help but groan, holding onto your hips as he fucked you. he squeezed at your butt cheeks, picking up the pace a bit. you gripped onto the sides of his desk and fucking yourself back into him.

jimin’s body began to shudder as he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. he kissed you shoulder, stuffing his face into your neck and shutting his eyes. the intense session was too much to handle and you felt yourself craving more of him, but you knew that you had to stop now while you could get away with it.

jimin finally pulled himself off of you and pulled his pants up, you did the same and pulled up your panties, pulling your work skirt back down over your butt. he grabbed the wet condom and threw it into the trash along with the wrapper.

he then sat down at his desk, clicking away at the computer. you sat across from him until the food finally came, one of the front desk ladies bringing it up for us before heading back down. you both sat in silence, like as if nothing had just happened and you figured that was how it was going to be from now on. you would go to work tomorrow and the next day, and the days after that and pretend that nothing ever happened.

-

tags: @ririkookiemonster

(comment/ dm to be added)

[zer0wzs]

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨

[ gn!reader ] "practice it, even once a week," it even works with sleep—especially you have something motivating you. based off of this classic reddit post. wc: 1521

AN: not at all proofread my apologies lol

There have been a couple of changes in your life since the first month that Jason moved in with you.

For one, the little trinkets that were scattered everywhere seemed to be a little more neater, a little more lined up. You’ll find that your small figures were playing out a scene. You don’t know why they’re like that, but Jason seems to know. 

Your apartment’s been plenty more storage-efficient. This was largely to help Jason store his expansive collection of books, but it helped you, too. The drawers, shelves, and cabinets the two of you have thrifted and renovated together make it seem more to both of your liking—rather than it just being yours.

Above these small things, though, you two seem to always never have enough time with each other, even after the move.

Needless to say, time isn’t always in your favor when you’re vigilant or with the Red Hood. Date nights are suddenly postponed or canceled, patrols keep him until the early hours of the morning, and—at worst—missions have you two apart from one another for weeks, maybe even months.

This makes you two take pleasure in the small things. Whatever little thing you two can keep to yourselves, whatever fragment of time is offered to you two, you will selfishly hold onto. It's the only thing you can ever hold onto.

That’s why you always hold onto Saturdays. You can wake up as late as you want and still know that he’s probably there. You’d find him cleaning his guns, cozied on the couch reading a book, watching a cheesy romcom, or cooking you breakfast. That’s how it's always been when you spent time at each other’s apartments, and the same thing has happened until now.

That’s your first thought as you wake—or, well first few thoughts. Checking the time on your phone, you see it’s 11 AM. Earlier than your usual time of waking, but you should still probably get up.

There isn’t much noise ringing through your ears, save for a few footsteps you heard through the ajar room of your bedroom. Still a little drowsy, you made your way to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

After rinsing your face with soap and getting the grime out of the crevices of your skin, you grabbed your toothbrush and pumped your toothpaste on it. As you brushed your teeth, though, your mind better register a faint humming—no, singing—from down the hallway.

Well, it can’t be anyone else, no?

After freshening yourself up, you go to your living room only to be greeted by tranced Jason—fixated on his slightly worn copy of All The Lovers in the Night. There’s some old dad rock music playing softly by him. You stand there, leaning against the edge of the hallway, before your presence is acknowledged.

“Good morning,” he greeted, using a random receipt he had to bookmark his page before the book aside. “You’re up early.”

“I know.” You hummed, finding a place beside him on the couch and giving him a good morning kiss on the cheek.

You find him smiling at the action, ruffling your hair and pulling you closer by the waist. “Are you up for any particular reason? Miss me?”

“Mmh, sure.” You grab his coffee perched on the table and take a sip. “Ew.”

He laughs. “What do you mean ‘ew’? Baby, that’s always how I’ve made my coffee.”

“I know, I know,” you rolled your eyes. “I thought that was gonna be the new three-in-one packet we got.”

“I don’t like three-in-one,” he hums. “Or at least I’m not in the mood for it.”

“Guess I’ll have to brew a cup for myself. I really wanna try it out.”

“Can I have a sip?” He asked, leaning into your shoulder.

“No.” You half-jokingly replied, snaking your hand up his hair to ruffle it.

“Come on.”

“Let’s see.”

And so that’s how Saturdays would go for you two. Jason would usually start his day at 7, 6, and sometimes even 5 AM, depending on how hectic his workload was. He’d freshen up, brew some coffee, and then usually get to his work.

If he did work, he always took a short breather between 10 to 11, usually spending the time to read. If he didn’t, he’d spend the morning cleaning the apartment or making breakfast.

You find yourself stirring awake. What time is it? It feels too early to be up right now.

You check the time on your phone. 10:42. Never mind.

You stretched out, basking in the sun that escapes through the fabric and small gaps of the translucent curtains. You blink a few times before deciding it's time to get up and freshen up. Grabbing a change of clothes, you head to your bathroom.

As you continued your morning routine, you could hear music ringing softly throughout the apartment. Along with that, you hear Jason singing along to it. With that, you open the door a little wider while you brush your teeth.

Before you can even process that your feet are carrying you outside the bathroom, Jason’s already greeting your presence in the dining area. “Good morning,” You wave in return. “You want anything for breakfast?”

You shake your head in reply and find your place beside him by the table, reading a book. You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to follow whatever he’s reading. The fast reader he is, he flips the page before you can even get a full sentence in.

In the corner of his eye, he can still see how drowsy you were. He checks in. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Still a little sleepy.”

“You know, you can still go to bed if you want. I’m not sure why you’re up earlier than usual.” He pouted, craning his head to look at you. “You’re not pushing yourself for whatever reason, right?”

“No, I just…woke up,” you reply dryly. “Like I woke up and thought, ‘might as well,’ you know?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You want a coffee?”

“Mmm, sure.”

“Alright,” he nods, kissing your forehead before getting up to heat up some water. “The three-in-one?”

“Yes, please.”

Maybe it's your way of saying that you miss him. Between the night patrols and days-to-months-long missions that he goes on, you find yourself waking up a little earlier. 11 AM turns into 10 AM turns into even 9 and 8 AM on the weekends.

It’s 7:51 AM. Last night may have been hectic, but you got some sleep in. A few weeks ago, you would’ve slept in and woke up at 1 PM, but god doesn’t grant you enough time to hit your napping time and spending-time-with-Jason quotas. You have to sacrifice one, and your body knows which one you’re choosing.

“Morning, babe,” Jason greets from the kitchen, cooking up a breakfast for the two of you.

He doesn’t tease you any more about waking up so early. In fact, he doesn’t even push you to go back to bed anymore. He knows it only really makes you feel bad for getting some sleep. He’s more than picked up these changes in the morning and accommodates you to his schedule with ease. 

You feel more than love. You feel his affection wholeheartedly. It’s almost overwhelming, but you figure you’re never getting enough of it anyway.

“Hello…” You mumble from behind him, sliding your hands up his chest. You smell the spicy scent of seasoning from his cooking. ”Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He smiles, pulling you to his side. 

You stand in silence for a bit, too sleepy to continue the conversation sensibly and letting only the sound of the searing pan fill the room.

Yet you start. “Are you doing anything or going anywhere today?”

“No, not really,” he answers. “Why? You wanna do something?”

“No, not really,” you copy his tone, not really implying any sort of mocking. “I just wanna spend time with you.”

He laughs a little. “Clingy.”

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Hmm,” he pauses for a split second to think. “Set the table for me, won’t ya? I’m almost done.”

“Alright.”

Warmth is the first thing you feel. A great, weighted warmth encasing you in your sleep. It wasn’t too early, as you felt the bright rays of the sun shine down and pierce through your closed eyes. Clearly, Jason should be more than awake by now.

Eyes closed, you whisper to the big bear of a man holding on to you for dear life. “Mmh, what time is it?”

Nothing from him in return. You lay a few kisses on his arm, hoping to wake him up, even a little.

“Love?” You hummed, reaching out for your phone to check the time. Your phone’s brightness blinds you, but as long as you can sleep in peace after this, you’re fine. “It’s 7:32. Shouldn’t you be up by now?”

You hear him mumble a few things, mostly incoherent, but you can at least make out his little, “Mmh, five more minutes.”

[lexisecretaccx]

High School Sweethearts pt.1 - Chris Sturniolo

PT2, PT3, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT9, PT10, ( rest of the parts on my Masterlist)

A/n: This is gonna be a series but PLSPLS bear with me bc I am struggling in school right now! This series reminds me of the K-12 Album tbf lol🤍🎀

(Chris sturniolo x Fem reader, skater Chris, nothing much atm, maybe a bit suggestive in a dream but not much else tbh.)

The bell rings, causing me to lift my head swiftly. I look around at the class and the other students are packing up so I copy, but just as I lean down to place my pencil case into my bag, a book slams on my desk making me jump out of my skin.

“You aren’t going anywhere y/n. Sleeping in class again?” My teacher Mr Rockwell looks down at me, his face cold and stern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night and..” he picks the book up off the desk, “no excuses. Good thing this is the last period because you can stay behind for detention. An hour and a half.” I sigh as he walks away before picking up a sheet of paper and placing it on my desk.

I place my face into my hands out of embarrassment, I’ve never had detention with this teacher before, I’m usually alert in his classes. “No more sleeping!” Mr Rockwell slightly yells from across the classroom and I pick up my pen before sighing and studying the page. Algebra. Math has never been my strong suit.

Mine and the teachers heads both shoot to the door as it opens with a squeak, a brunette boy walks into the room and up to the teachers desk, “You’re late again. Once more and there will be serious issues.” I hear Mr Rockwell say, before the boy replies “yeah sorry, see my brother had to..” “Excuses again! What’s the matter with the students in my class.” He mutters, leaning past the brunette to look at me.

My face flushes with embarrassment as the boy turns to look at me, he mustn’t have noticed there was anyone else in the class, I am seated right at the back to be fair. He smiles at me softly, before turning back to the teacher. I swear I recognised him, I think he was one of the triplets in our grade.

“Sit down.” Mr Rockwell mutters, handing the boy the same piece of paper he gave me. To my surprise the boy sat right next to me, probably to try copy me. “If you’re trying to copy me, you’re out of luck because I haven’t got a clue either.” I whisper and I look over to the boy, his eyes studying my face. “Do I know you?” He whispers back.

“I don’t know.. do you?” I ask in confusion because I haven’t ever spoken to him or his brothers, “yeah you’re the girl who sits at the front in science.” He chuckles and looks at the teacher at the front of the class and then back at me.I’m surprised he knows who I am, I didn’t know he was in my class.

“Oh yeah..” I laughed lightly. I look back down at my paper to try and make some sense of it, and I fail at that.

The teacher stands up and his chair squeaks against the floor, causing me and the boy to jump as we look up. “I need to go.. grab something from one of the other classrooms I’ll be 10 minutes minimum.” He spoke monotonously and walked out the class. I immediately look to the boy and he has the same confused expression on his face as I do.

“What was that about?” He looks to me for an answer, “I dont know but at least I don’t have him staring me down anymore,” I laugh, “what’s your name? Sorry I dont remember it.” I feel guilty, due to the fact that he knows who I am, I mean I know who he is but not enough to know his name, does he even know mine?

“Oh uh im Chris, and don’t stress it y/n u won’t be forgetting my name soon enough.” He smirks to me before his eyes focus on the equations in front of him. He knows my name. “What do you mean by that?” I laugh softly and he shrugs.

“Maybe you’ll remember me as the boy who stole the answers for this algae-bra shit.” He stands up whilst looking at me, “it’s Algebra, Chris, and you aren’t stealing answers, what if he comes back?”

“Chill, I’ll take the blame for it anyway.” He opens the drawer in the teachers desk and ruffles through some paper until he smiles and grabs a piece of paper, closes the drawer and walks back over to me. “You thief.” I joke with him as he sits back down and scoots his desk closer to me so we can share the paper.

We finish up with the paper and the teacher still hasn’t returned, Chris puts the paper back into his desk and we try to wait it out for the 25 minutes we have left. “Can we just leave now?” He rolls his eyes and taps his pen on the desk. “I wish but no. What if he comes back and we’re gone?” I watch him as he stops tapping his pen and leans down to his bag.

“Live a little y/n. He’s been gone for most this detention, it’s his fault if you leave early.” He packs his things into his backpack. “Plus I’ll write a note on his board and let him know we left ‘at the right time’” he does finger quotations and smirks, “fine.” I sigh.

He hops out his seat and grabs both our papers and places them on the desk, as I pack my things away. He writes on the board ‘sorry for being in detention or whatever but we did the work (it’s on ur desk) and left, love u teach xx - Chris’ “there.” He smiles proudly and I roll my eyes “you’re not funny.” I stand up.

We both sneak out the classroom and Chris leads me the way. We hear voices coming from a storage cupboard and he looks back at me before we go to move forward again but before we can start moving, the door swings open and a girl walks out, she looked about late 20s or something, she went down the hallway in the direction we were headed.

Chris turns to me and raises one of his eyebrows as if to say ���what the fuck was she doing in there’ . About a minute later someone else stumbles out of the cupboard, my mouth drops when I realise it’s Mr Rockwell. He walks down the corridor towards his class which means he was gonna pass me and Chris. Chris pulls me behind a locker and my back is pressed right up against him.

Mr Rockwell passes us, and thankfully doesn’t see us. I let out a sigh of relief and Chris grabs my arm before we are running down the corridors and out the double doors. Chris leans against the brick wall, breathing heavily.

“I’m never doing that again.” I breath as I smile at him, “You know we will,” he smirks at me before checking his phone. “Shit I was supposed to be home like half hour ago I should go.” “But detention doesn’t end for what.. another like 10/15 minutes? Why would you need to be home before it ends?” I ask tilting my head slightly as he smiles and looks at his feet.

“Your detention doesn’t end for another 10/15 minutes, mine ended like 45 mins ago.” He looked at me, “what, why didn’t you leave when you should’ve then?” I am really confused now. “Didn’t want to leave you on your own.” He shrugged before grabbing a skateboard off of a rack. “Oh thanks.” I smile “You skate?” I try to hide my blush from his comment and bring my focus to his board.

“Uh yeah, do you?” He smiles down at me due to our height difference, “no but I tried once and I got scared.” I laugh, he laughs too before dropping his board onto the ground, “I’ll teach you sometime.” He starts to skate away, “see ya y/n!”.

I get home and throw my notebook down onto my desk, one of my pages is folded over, I hate when that happens. I turn to the page to unfold the corner and there’s writing on the page ‘know you would want this - Chris’ below that was his phone number. I smile to myself at his slightly messy handwriting and pick up my phone.

I add his number to my contacts and open up imessage. ‘How did you write that in my book without me noticing😂’ I press send. He replies with ‘gotta keep an eye on your stuff y/n😉’ we text back and forth for a bit before I go to sleep.

“You’re so pretty y/n.” I smile as he leans over me and smirks, “can I?” His hand plays with the seam on my panties. “Yes.. please.” He starts to kiss my neck, “fuck Chris…”

I sit up quickly, breathing fast. “What the fuck.” I mumble to myself before wiping my eyes and laying back down. Come on y/n you barely knew the boy before today and now you’re dreaming of him? I sigh heavily.

I’m never telling anyone about that.. ever..

A/n: omds I kinda like this.. I’m gonna try to make it a series but I won’t be able to update frequently! I love this storyline tho and I know where I’m going with this so bear with me!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

[ask-sister-solaris]

can i request Egon Spengler x reader where reader is a scientist and has a ghost in their lab? Reader talks very technical (similar to Egon) and maybe the other ghostbusters struggle to understand what they are talking about, but reader ends up correcting Egon on something and he’s just smitten? (i have a head-cannon that Egon loves it when he’s challenged scientifically)

Hehehehehe YES

“What. Just. Happened-“

Egon x scientist!reader

Warnings: eh it gets a bit…suggestive.

A silent groan escaped your lips as you looked up. The phantasm was still persisting with its tricks. You picked up the phone and dialed the Ghostbusters number, answering the receptionists questions. When assured you they were on their way, you put the phone down and took a few samples of the sticky residue that dripped from your book shelf. Maybe this could be useful.

You set the sample in a safe place and straightened your jacket out. Being a Doctor of Parapsychology and Science you knew this was atleast a class 4. You picked up your copy of Tobins Spirit Guide and began looking through, though it seemed the phantasm wasn’t in said Guide. You hummed as a knock on the door grabbed your attention. You opened the door and there they were, The Ghostbusters. You stepped aside to let them in and rolled your eyes at Peter Venkmans poor poor attempt at flirting. You brushed him off and turned to Ray Stantz. You’d seen his work before “The phantasm isn’t in Tobins, I checked. It seems to be a class 4. It has all the traits of a class 4, slightly more aggressive bordering on a class 5”

Ray and Peter looked at eachother with raised eyebrows then back at you. You’d turned your back to them, looking for something in a drawer. You pulled out a Geiger counter and ran if I’ve the slime as Egon Spengler was going over your office with a PKE meter. You hummed and took a mental note of the readings on the Geiger counter. Ray cleared his throat “have you seen the phantasm miss? Could you describe it?” You hummed and looked at him “I have seen it, a large, red mass of ectoplasm and anger. It has no facial features as far i saw, it had no legs but shoe stubby arms and it squealed like a pig” you out the counter down and looked at Egon who was currently scanning you.

“She’s right Ray, if the readings on the PKE are anything to go by, it’s definitely a boarding on being a level 5 phantasm, a nasty one at that” Egon looked at Ray then the others. Peter looked at them confused “Egon…for one moment pretend that I don’t know anything about parapsychology and dumb it down for me?” You rose a brow and snapped Tobins spirit guide shut making all four of them jump. “Well Dr Venkman, as you are so clueless, let me enlightened you. The big red blob is causing havoc in my office. It is disrupting my work and research, now I am a fellow doctor of Parapsychology and Science. So I’m sure you can share the sentiment of hating being disturbed!”

Peter flinched and looked at Winston and Ray before shrugging “we can’t guarantee that your office will still be in one piece when we have caught said phantasm” Ray told you and you rolled your eyes “okay” you grabbed your research and Tobins, leaving the room. A few hours later the boys walked out holding a smoking trap .

“You were right. A level 4 bordering on 5” Egon nodded at you and you didn’t even look up “I know. Is that it? How much did you destroy?” Egon looked at Ray and rolled his eyes “luckily your office is unscathed your coworkers offices however…not so much” you stood up and snapped your book shut. “How much do you want? And make it quick I have research to be doing” Egon looked at Peter and he gave his signature poor flirty smile. “How does 4,000 sound hm?” You pulled out your cheque book and wrote it for 4000 before ripping it out and giving it to Egon. “I was wondering if you would like to work together, you said you’re a Dr of Parapsychology. The ectoplasm is seemingly negatively charged so I would like to run some tests”

You rose a brow and looked at him “Well it’s actually neutral until exposed to outside elements such as my anger toward Dr Venkman and I’m going to suppose Dr Venkmans annoyance at his poor flirting tactics” the room went silent and Egon pushed his glasses up gently. He looked down hiding his bright red face, god you were perfect.

Winston looked between you, Egon and the other two and rose a brow “What. Just. Happened-“