#it never shows someone spending all day doing school + work + helping around the house and wanting an hour of peace

[magicpiano]

I fucking hate the trope that one sibling is EVIL for wanting to do their own thing rather than do whatever the (typically younger) sibling wants.

Your hobbies matter. Your free time also matters. Your desire for alone time should be respected!

And don't come at me with "oh you must be an older sibling haha" No I am not. I just think we should be respecting people's boundaries actually. If someone doesn't want to do something, they shouldn't be forced to.

Your sibling isn't your toy, they are a human being.

[munamania]

i mean it’s just kinda crazy cause. and forgive me if i sound somewhat spoiled here but. this trip im doing to take more credits and get experience and make connections etc is obviously expensive and i talked abt it with my parents. a lot before trying to do it. and somehow my dad didn’t understand that yk we would have to pay for it. ??? and is putting me in this spot of ‘figuring out what we’re gonna do about it’ and it’s like dude. i mean i’m going i paid for my fucking flights you know i’m. regardless i’ll be there. and i make $10/hr i have not been able to work consistently and when you don’t have thousands and thousands of dollars just sitting there accumulating more interest it doesn’t fucking last. like what exactly do you want me to say? i’ll drain all my accounts and give what little i have to you? tldr my main point here is the only way this man truly shows any kind of affection is through money and since he fucked me up im glad to take advantage of that lol like why wouldn’t i. so to have it thrown back in my face is just um an awful feeling. like im not even worth this to you. this is just too much. it truly does feel like someone put a number on love and im just not up there

[retroaria]

ੈ♡˳ boyfriend Isagi ｡.｡:∞♡

summary: cutsey headcanons for everyones favorite egoist Isagi Yoichi (HIMsagi GOATichi) a bit of a school AU but you can add your own nuances to it ofc I just tried to be general

warnings: purest of fluff (your heart might explode)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🤍 - aria

pre!boyfriend isagi who shows his feelings through sweet acts of service before he’s ready to tell you head on. Need a partner for that project? He’s already slipping into the desk beside you, a smile on his face. Left your pencil case in homeroom? He’ll run however many miles to ensure it gets back to you. (could’ve texted you but he wants to hand it to you like Prince Charming). Forgot your lunch that day? he’s already splitting half his bento to give to you.

pre!boyfriend isagi who may be afraid to confront you about his feelings off the bat but will go so far out of his way to form a friendship with you first. Immediately introduces himself as soon as you catch his eye. You guys exchange numbers and socials and the rest is history: late night phone calls, weekend hangouts, walking you to school every morning. This boy wants to be your bestie before he swoops in for the goal (and steals your heart!)

pre!boyfriend isagi who wants to immerse himself in your interests and vise versa. No matter what it is you’re into he knows that understanding your passions will help him further understand you. Loves seeing you in the stands during his practice or games. Will literally melt at the sight of you cheering for him. “Clean up on left field, this boy just turned into a puddle of mush!”

pre!boyfriend isagi who can’t help but brush his hand and arm against yours when you walk together. Can’t help but press his leg to yours when sitting together. Can’t help but offer to carry your bags or books. Can’t help but pick that “lint” out of your hair or that “eyelash” on your face (totally not an excuse to touch you). Can’t help but tug you closer to him in crowded spaces. Can’t help but stare endlessly into your eyes everytime you speak (the BEST listener ever btw)

pre!boyfriend isagi who realizes he doesn’t want to waste another second of his life not being able to call you his. Uses the first moment he gets alone with you to take your hands in his and give you the most honest and heartfelt confession. He’s blushing lightly but confident in the connection he’s worked hard to build with you.

boyfriend!isagi who cant wait to be able to hold your hand in public, pull you in for quick kisses, wrap his arm around you whenever he wants, hold you close to him on the couch or in bed, tell you how perfect you are everyday, and never let you forget that he feels like the luckiest boy in the world when he’s with you.

boyfriend!isagi who can’t wait to introduce you to all his friends. You meet Bachira first (obvi) and the three of you become an unstoppable trio. Loves having you at post game celebrations and having you as his personal cheerleader (this boy would do anything to win the game and make you proud)

boyfriend!isagi who dies at the thought of you referring to him as “your boyfriend” and getting to say “my girlfriend/boyfriend/partner. he loves talking about you to his parents! They’re so happy to meet you and so glad that he has someone who cares for him. His mom def shows you all his baby photos (babysagi!)

boyfriend!isagi who takes you on the cutest dates and loves when you take him on dates too (makes him feel like a special boy). He always tries to do something where the two of you can spend a lot of time talking or have a nice experience together. He’s so open and willing to try new things with you, having you in his life has opened him up as a person. He’s also never not happy to just spend the night in snuggled up watching a movie/tv show/anime. (Aside: I have an isagi x reader one shot idea where they go on a date to a butterfly garden that I may potentially post Idk yet)

boyfriend!isagi who is constantly worrying about your health and wellbeing. You can’t tell me he isn’t the kind of guy to constantly check up on you, making sure you’re ok physically and mentally as often as he can. If ever you’re feeling upset or in pain/sick he goes into doctor mode and will do everything in his power to help. If all else fails he will just hold you and promise that his love will make it all better (he’s a loving optimist what can I say)

boyfriend!isagi who is the first to admit that he is absolutely smitten and totally wrapped around your finger because he will forever be in awe that he had the chance to share his love and be loved by someone so special <3

I’d love to do some more specific headcanons on him but I kept these as generic as possible and tried my best to capture just how sweetboy coded he is lol.

[stevieschrodinger]

I do not have time to write this, but I really need to write it down.

All the events of Stranger things happen as normal - one crucial difference, Eddie gets involved, but not in the same way. He's an innocent by stander who never made friends with the kids. He's a vague background character to the action. He's an extra on set, effectively, and when he drops out of school and leaves town abruptly, someone might notice, but no one really questions it.

Years later, the only thing that feels real about the whole thing are the scars Steve still carries on his body. Sometimes, sometimes, he has to call Robin, just to check it was all real. That he hasn't lost his mind. He still flinches when a light flickers, to this day his ears ring for hours after a loud noise. He has headaches.

The only people he can talk to about it are Robin and the kids; but he feels bad. The kids aren't kids anymore, and they all seem to have just...gotten on with their lives. Seemed to have grown and evolved past it all, even though Steve regularly still wakes in the night, sweating and fighting with his bed covers. He doesn't put that on them, he sounds happy on the phone, and he is, loves hearing about their lives, their relationships, their plans and their own kids.

Robin has a girlfriend, she's happy and settled. Steve's the only one who seems...stuck. Like he cant move past it. He bums around. Stays with Nancy for a while, then Robin. Visits Argyle, makes loose acquaintances and sofa surfs. Drifts, aimlessly, through life.

It's about time in his cycle to visit Robin, but the relationship is serious this time and she nags him to find his own place to stay near by - loosing patience with him when he fails to be motivated and finding it for him herself. It's tiny, the kind of place where the bed is also the couch and the TV rests on a short run of kitchen counter because there's no where else. Feels okay though.

Steve gets a job. Spends a day on foot, door to door, walking through town; lands in a record shop of all places, even though CD's have now well and truly taken hold and vinyl isn't much of a thing. It's dark inside, the walls painted black, the bare brick red. A couple of people browse through, but Steve heads right for the counter.

There's some screamo rock stuff playing that Steve doesn't recognize, but it's quiet, so it's okay.

Behind the counter, someone Steve half recognizes from another life. Eddie Munson, Freak of Hawkins High. What are the odds.

Eddie isn't who Steve remembers. He's angry now. Bitter. Has a horrible scar that creeps up his neck and onto his face, pulling the corner of his lip down. Steve does his best to ignore it. Begs for work.

Eddie employs him, but only because he thinks it's fucking funny how far the king has fallen. Now the king works for the jester.

Steve does his best at the shop. Cleans a lot. Gets on well with the customers, charms plenty of sales.

Eddie walks with a cane and seems to hate everyone and everything; but nothing so much as a cold morning. Seems to be in more pain than usual.

Steve wants to ask, Eddie tells him it was an animal attack. In 86.

Steve's seen some of the scars by now, caught glimpses of how bad Eddie was hurt; helped Eddie even when Eddie was spitting angry about accepting any help.

What the fuck kind of animal could do that much damage in Hawkins?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

And Steve puts it together then, instantly and viscerally realizes in his bones what must have happened. No one ever believed Eddie. Why would they? How could anyone think that monsters coming out of the walls, out of the floors, out of glowing red portals could be the truth?

And Steve says, did it's face peel apart like a flower?

And then he tells Eddie. He tells Eddie everything. He shows Eddie his own scars. Tells him about every monster they ever come across. It was one of the demo dogs. Like Dart. Steve knew it must have been, but Eddie confirms with a description.

And then Eddie cries, because he finally has a explanation. He's not crazy. For the first time in his life, someone believes him.

[behidethetrees]

Mike schmidt as your boyfriend hcs ꩜

Pairing: mike schmidt x fem! Reader

Contents: slight angst if u squint, Fnaf mention, Reader and mike are sooo cute hehe

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

-You and Mike met in 1983 when you were 15. Mike was smart in the things you werent, So you two made a deal that you could copy off of him . One day when you were walking down the halls you saw the meanest boy in school Trying to bully mike and it pissed you off.

-You pulled the boy off of mike and punched him with no hesitation, Mike was so sure there were hearts in his vision. You were brave and fearless, But you were also gentle and caring when you offered help if he was hurt, He wasnt but He had never wished he was more than on that day.

-Thats when you two started becoming close. At first it was small talk or friendly banter but it slowly turned into never being seen anywhere without each other.

- One lucky day in december of senior year he decided to tell you how he felt in the garden you had showed him. Mike was never romantic, He didnt know what to do or say, So he did whatever guys did in the movies he’d seen. He handpicked you some beautiful pink flowers and wrote you a cute but short letter and handed it to you.

-You accepted his feelings and looked at those puppy dog eyes that crinkled as he smiled.

-Mike is very loyal. He has your initial around his neck and he talks about you almost all the time. (Abby tells you all about it) He has even gotten into a few fights for you, He always defends you even if you aren’t there.

-As mike got older, He starting learning the old way of love. He opens all doors for you, The occasional flowers and cute poems he writes for you, the sidewalk rule, He really knows how to treat his lady.

-Mikes Love Language is definitely quality time. Youre the love of his life and he wants to be with you always! There are alot of times where mike doesnt know what to say or show you how much he loves you. But you know he does by the way he follows and takes you everywhere. How he offers to spend time with you when he gets off of that strange nighshift where he works, Even if it means he gets no sleep.

-Mike is a family man. He loves his little sister and you love her too. You and Abby have a bond that was fun and ‘girly’, in mikes words. (Mike wears bracelets you and abby make for him) When Mike opened up to you about his brother and his parents one day, You just put your head on his shoulder, letting him talk and not mentioning how his voice would wobble and crack every once an awhile.

-Mike struggles with his emotions and mental health. When he feels like its getting bad, He tends to distance himself but you reassure him you are there for him no matter what. You hold mike whether hes crying or not and whisper sweet words into his short curly hair.

-Mike is very jealous and protective. He tries to not to show it but its obvious. His arm slinged over your shoulder everywhere, Making sure everyone knew you were his. Even when you talked to people, He subconsciously glared at the people taking your attention away from him. Mike eyes, that could be so welcoming, were cold.

-Mike loves the date nights you plan for the two of you. Whether it was going out or staying in, He loves being in your presence.

-Mikes favorite part of everyday is at night when you two would cuddle while talking about your future together. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you and hes thrilled someone like you wants that with him too.

A/N!!!: happy halloween!! What are u guys going as? Me and my bf are going as mavis and johnny :3

Hope you enjoyed!

Requests

Taglist: @nowitsmissing

[lipglossanon]

Deed I Do

Real Dad Dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x Daughter Puppy!reader (one shot)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, age gap (Leon is late 40’s and reader is late 20’s), hybrids, jealous Leon, short and sweet, dirty talk, grinding, unprotected sex, breeding kink, knotting, creampie

ETA: this was a commission but I’m a dumbass 😭

Kofi commish by @bumpkin-batch

Word count: 1999

title from Deed I Do by Ruth Etting

Leon stretches, bones and joints popping loudly. 

“Looking forward to that retirement, I’ll bet,” Jill jokes as she passes by him to sit at the desk behind Chris’. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes and stands up from his desk chair. 

He usually works away from Chris’ desk, out on patrol alongside his owner, but after turning 40, they kept him pushing paper and training new pups. This new batch coming in has him excited, although he’d never admit it. It’s the very first litter he sired back when he was in the breeding program decades ago.

“Aww, aren’t they cute!” Rebecca coos as Chris brings in the new lineup of would-be police dogs.

Leon would roll his eyes, but he’s too busy cataloging each of the new pups. There are seven in all—five boys and two girls. Aside from the girl on the end, they’re all stoic and calm. She, on the other hand, keeps letting her emotions get the best of her—tail wagging happily before remembering to stay still. 

Leon has a really good feeling she won’t be cut out for police work. It sends a little pang of worry through his chest, but he squashes it down in favor of watching them. As they’re put through their paces, Leon keeps an eye out on the girl. Just to make sure she does what she’s told. 

Weeks fly by in this new routine. A few of the recruits are turning out not to be fit for police work. The girl is definitely too friendly and useless at trying to apprehend someone breaking the law. Another pup, a boy, is too hyper. He’s already broken through three harnesses and accidentally bit an officer. 

But still, five out of seven new police dogs isn’t anything to sneeze at; Leon’s proud the majority have what it takes, like himself. The boy’s already been adopted by Barry. His two daughters have been begging for a hybrid to play with after school, and with his energy, he’ll be a perfect fit. The girl, on the other hand, is much too sweet and soft. Leon’s been keeping an ear out for what they’re going to do with her. 

He’s taken a liking to the pup; she’s earnest and kind, something he doesn’t get to see every day. She’s started to hang around Chris’ desk with him when the recruits have free time. It could explain why Chris suddenly springs it on him that he’s taking her home at the end of the week. 

“She’s just not going to fit in here,” the dark haired man gestures to the empty office, “and I don’t want her going to a shelter to sit for god knows how long. You two get along, and this way you won’t be home alone when you retire next month.”

Leon scoffs, but secretly he’s extremely pleased about the new situation. His own little girl is getting to stay with him. He can teach her all the things she wouldn’t learn here, especially with him being gone. And she’s so sweet. He’s happy he can spend this time with her and not have to worry about the job. 

Friday rolls around, and you’re a ball of joy. Leon even finds himself smiling at your excited chattering while he leads you out to Chris’ vehicle. You grow quiet on the drive to your new home, but your tail wagging assures Leon that you’re happy. Chris helps you get settled into your new room, right next to Leon, and gives you a quick tour of the house as the dogman follows behind.

There are a few bumps in dealing with a new pup in his space, but Leon wouldn’t change it for anything. He’s looking forward to retirement just that much more. In the meantime, he shows you the ropes. Cuddling, playing, annoying Chris—you guys do it all together. You groom each other too, something Leon finds himself seeking out more and more. Lately, you’ve been smelling downright edible. 

He’s had to excuse himself from your cuddling before he gets too hard to hide it. You’ve also been extra clingy lately, practically gluing yourself to him at every chance you get. Leon calls it quits midweek, and as soon as Chris opens the front door, you’re pressed all along Leon’s side with a wide smile. 

“Congratulations!” You kiss his cheek, and he gets a whiff of something sweet and tart, making his mouth water. 

You usher him into the kitchen and throw out your hands, “Ta-da! I made your favorite!”

Grinning, he ruffles your ears, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip, ducking your head out of shyness, “Thanks, dad. I hope you like it.”

Picking up the fork, Leon takes a bite of the lemon cake. Sweet.. tangy.. soft.. moist. The errant thought that this is what your cunt might be like makes his eyes flutter closed with a groan. 

“It’s good?” Your eyes peer at him, ears perking up. 

“Delicious,” he pats your head, and your tail whips back and forth.

“Chris, you have to try some!” You call out, heading back into the living room. 

Leon takes a few more bites, mouth salivating at the taste. He needs to get his shit together. You bring Chris into the kitchen with you, and Leon watches him shower you with praise over the dessert. You become more and more flustered, and an ugly feeling of jealousy rears its head in his chest. 

“You okay?” 

With a start, Leon blinks, realizing a low growl has been building up in his chest. 

“Yeah, sorry, just thinking about something,” he clears his throat. “Well, I’m beat, so I’m going to take a shower and head to bed.”

“Oh, okay,” your ears droop, and it makes his heart hurt. 

“Did you need me?”

You pick at your nails, “Could we watch a movie together? I’m feeling kinda under the weather.”

Warm satisfaction suffuses him over your asking him and not Chris, “Sure, just meet me in my room once I finish showering.”

“Okay!” You smile brightly and hurry off to your room.

“I’m glad you guys are getting along,” Chris chuckles before stuffing another bite of cake into his mouth. 

“Don’t eat all of it,” Leon points to the dessert, “that’s technically for me.”

“It’s one slice,” Chris rolls his eyes. 

Leon’s nose twitches, and he waves his owner off, heading to the bathroom. After showering, Leon wraps his lower waist with a towel before realizing he didn’t bring a change of clothes. It’s a habit he’ll have to learn to break since you’ve moved in. Sighing to himself, he makes his way to his room, hoping you haven’t come in just yet. 

His hopes are dashed when he sees your wide-eyed look as you lay in bed. His sheets are gonna smell like you, and it makes his cock twitch. Pulling in a deep breath to calm himself, he nearly chokes as your sweet scent floods his nose. He knows he’s looking at you a little too heatedly.

“Sorry, I’ll get dressed.” He finally breaks eye contact and heads to his dresser. 

He throws on an old tee and slips on a pair of sweats under the towel before tossing it in the hamper. You scooch over to make room for him, and as soon as he’s lying back, you’re practically clambering on top of him. You throw one thigh over his legs, the heat of your cunt a hot brand against his leg. Burying your face against his chest, you nuzzle and scent your way up to his neck. 

“Dad,” you whine, “I feel sick.”

“Sick how?” He murmurs, trying to clear the fog in his brain as you subtly grind against him. “Have you been taking your meds?”

You shake your head no, pressing your nose against the pulse in his neck. 

“I ran out. Chris is s’posed to pick them up tomorrow,” you mumble, lips brushing against his skin and raising the hair on his neck. 

“Oh, baby,” he croons, cock chubbing in his sweats. “It’s heat sickness, my sweet pup.”

No wonder you’ve smelled so good lately. He grips your hips and helps you straddle his lap. 

“Take these off,” he snaps the band of your shorts, “gonna make my sweet girl feel better.”

Whimpering, you quickly slip off all your clothes until you’re sitting completely naked on his thighs. He pushes his sweats down just enough to free his hardening cock. 

Your tail thumps against his legs. “Smell so good, dad.”

“So do you, baby,” he helps you sit your chubby pussy on his cock, pressing the thick length against his abs. “Just rub against me.”

Nodding your head, you brace your hands on his forearms as they grip your hips. Whining, your pussy lips part around his cock, and you slowly rut against him, dragging your slick all along his fat dick. 

“That’s it, doing so good giving daddy a pussy job,” he groans, jerking you back and forth as you frot against him. 

Whining, you hump down against his cock, precum and slick smearing across your cunt until there’s a sticky mess between you both. Leon grunts, feeling his knot starting to form at the base of his dick. 

“Fuck, gonna make daddy pop his knot, baby,” he drops his head back as you moan loudly. 

��Want it, please dad, my pussy feels so empty,” you pull away, shiny strings of slick clinging to his cock. 

“Shh, shh,” he runs his palms up your thighs before bringing one hand back down to grip his cock. “I’ll give it to you, but you gotta be quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, biting your lip when Leon slaps his cock against your pudgy clit. 

He uses his thumb to press the head down to guide it into your drooling hole. You both pant and sigh as you slowly sink your cunt down until you're flush with your dad’s hips. Leon’s eyes nearly cross from how tight you are, walls soft and wet as they squeeze his cock.

“So good, fuck, gonna knot you, sweetheart, knot this sweet little pussy,” he growls out, pulling out to shove you down onto the mattress. 

He manhandles you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up before fucking his cock back into you, bottoming out in your squelching heat. He sees you bite down on the pillow to muffle the cry that slips from your mouth. Your pussy flutters and grips his cock tightly, sucking him in until the tip kisses your cervix. Growling low, he roughly pumps his hips, slipping his cock in and out of your perfect pussy. 

“You’re perfect, fucking meant for me,” he leans forward to bite and kiss your neck, “fat pussy a perfect fit for my cock.”

“Dad, dad, feels so good,” you whimper brokenly, “want your knot, want your pups, daddy.”  

“Fuck,” he snarls against your ear, cock pistoning deeper into your greedy hole. “Cum for me, pup, and I’ll knot your wet pussy.”

He reaches underneath you to circle and pinch your swollen clit. You thrash and buck against him, mewling and gasping as he works you closer to your orgasm. His knot catches at your hole, and as soon as your back arches, your pussy cumming around his cock, he shoves his knot past your clenching hole and locks you together. 

“Dad!” You cry out, voice muffled from where you’re pressed into the sheets.

“Ohhh,” he lazily humps your ass, rutting his cock and knot deeper into your cunt, “so good, baby. You did so well for daddy.”

You hum happily, and he nuzzles against your neck, laying you both on your sides so you can rest comfortably.

“I’ll fill you up again later to keep you from getting sick,” he murmurs in your ear and groans when your pussy milks and pulses around his cock. 

“Thanks, dad.”

He smiles and presses a kiss on your hair. He really does have a sweet pup.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Eddie is desperate to speak to you about what you saw in the woods but with Harrington guarding you at every turn how was that possible?

Jealous Eddie, 18+, misunderstandings, protective Steve. Robin is done with all this shit.

Part one here

💌♥️

You spend your time at Family Video trying to distract yourself from ever thinking you and Eddie could be something in the first place. It's hard though because at unexpected times the kiss will creep back into your mind and you were swept back into your deep feelings for Eddie once again.

It wasn't like there was an on or off switch to turn off how you felt. If only it was that easy.

Steve has been amazing, he's comforted you since you went into Family Video, tear filled eyes and lip trembling as you explained to him and Robin what happened.

The thing about Steve is since he's changed dramatically in the last few years, grown into a better man thanks to a knock on the head from various people (Nancy, Robin, You, Dustin and all the other little shits) he's also become more protective of everyone he cares about.

So seeing you teary eyed and that little pout on your face has sent all of his protective instincts going haywire, he can never resist a pout and puppy eyes-something the kids have picked up on and used to their advantage.

He's determined to do anything to protect you from Eddie hurting you even more, and it's not like he disliked the guy, Munson was cool. Hurt his friends though and any good will he had disappeared fast.

It doesn't help his irritation when Eddie is constantly everywhere he looks, he's driving you and Robin to school and Munson is watching with a pained expression.

Serves you right dickhead. He thinks to himself and wraps his around you, comfortingly when you freeze as you see Eddie.

The anguished expression on Eddie's face darkens into something else and he zeroes in on Steve's hand that is gently rubbing your shoulder.

Steve doesn't think it's the last he's seen of Munson, if his expression is any indication then he expects Eddie won't keep his feelings quiet for very long.

...

It takes less than a day for Eddie to show up at the store. You're working with Steve and watching IT to pass the long work day away.

"You know this feels so familiar" Steve smirks at you and you can't help but laugh, kids banding together to fight an ancient evil, it rings a few bells.

Eddie looks between you and Harrington, jealousy bubbles in his stomach and he grips the video he's holding tightly. Inside jokes, the two of you had inside jokes.

He swears under his breath, curses himself that he fucked up so badly. Wishes he could explain to you and tell you that Chrissy didn't mean anything, she was nervous getting weed for the first time and he just wanted to make her feel comfortable.

The only person he wanted was you but you had gotten things totally wrong. The jealousy twists in his gut again when Steve gently nudges your side as the two of you laugh over something.

He's itching to go up and talk to you but how could he when Harrington was like a guard dog.

Robin sidles up to him, returning tapes, she narrows her eyes at Eddie as he looks at her pleadingly all puppy eyed and pouty.

"Don't you do that look Munson, I'm as pissed at you as Steve is and I swear if you're hanging around to just break a certain someone's heart again then I'm borrowing Steve's bat and...' Eddie manages to intervene before she passes out from lack of oxygen.

"No, shit, that's not why I'm here Buckley. I came to apologise, beg for forgiveness. I am not interested in Chrissy. I've been crazy about princess for months and I'm kicking myself that I've messed things up" Robin deflates and softens just a tiny bit.

"Well why haven't you apologised?" she exclaims and then she turns around to look at Steve and sighs. "Yeah, it's not ideal when Steve is in "protective mode" but suck it up Munson" Eddie swallows feeling thoroughly chastised.

Suck it up and get his princess back. He could do that.

💞

Eddie doesn't come back to Family Video after his talk with Robin. The thought sours your mood because you guess he really doesn't care that you're hurting.

Or Robin and Steve have collectively scared him off.

Maybe he really did have chemistry with Chrissy and he would rather pursue her. The least he could do is tell you so you weren't surprised one day when he walked into Family Video with her.

Robin is talking about Vickie and asking you and Steve about ideas for a movie date, you're distracted as Eddie comes in. Your heart skips a beat and his big brown eyes are full of nerves as he walks up to you.

Pissed off and despite yourself really missing Eddie you concentrate on rewinding the tapes that people had brought back. Ugh, be kind, rewind. It was right there on the video cover, there were so many tapes to do and that was annoying you as well.

♥️

It really was time for you and Eddie to talk. Steve looks reluctant as you head over but you assure him you'll be fine.

"We need to talk, I'll be okay Steve. Promise" he nods but is still glaring at Eddie, his gaze darkening even more when Eddie approaches.

"Do not fuck this up Munson or you'll have me to answer to" Eddie nods, his gaze is still on you.

Robin rolls her eyes as she looks between him and Eddie and gently pushes Steve back behind the counter. "Come on Steve, don't be a dingus and let them talk it out" Eddie throws a grateful smile Robin's way.

Once you're alone with Eddie he immediately launches into what he's been itching to say, he trips over his words a few times but he's desperate for you to understand that he's in no way interested in Chrissy, not one bit.

Eddie shakes his head. "I don't want Chrissy, I'm not interested in her, she is sweet but she's just my friend and she's not you. I was goofing around when you saw us talking because she was nervous, it was her first time getting weed and I just wanted her to relax sweetheart, the only "spark" I feel is with you"

You smile feeling the stirrings of relief build up inside you. "I've been trying to tell you all week princess but I didn't want to fuck up any more and well, Steve hasn't exactly let me anywhere near you" he looks past you to Steve and you squeeze his hand.

"He's just protective that's all" you soften as you gaze at him, can sense that he's worrying, "Eddie there's nothing between me and Steve, he's my friend that's all" Eddie nods and brightens considerably.

"As long as Harrington knows that" you roll your eyes amused as Eddie straightens and tries to look intimidating to Steve.

"Yes he does, we're friends Eddie. He's just as protective of Robin" Eddie nods and presses a kiss to your head.

"I've missed you sweetheart" you lean into him and his arms wrap around you. You've missed him like crazy, "Maybe we could try this again princess? A proper date?" You nod and press a gentle kiss to his lips leaving you both a bit dazed but smiling happily at each other that everything is going to be okay.

♥️

[leth-writes]

I'm so happy to see someone writing for twilight it really doesn't get the love it deserves.

This is weirdly specific, so bear with me.

Can I request Paul (twilight) x reader who's Jacob's ex-girlfriend, and they had like a really messy brake up so they REALLY don't like each other and so Paul and jacob get onto a fight about it.

Thanks for your time I've really been enjoying reading your work❤️❤️❤️

hello, lovely anon!

Usually I do shorter pieces for requests, but I kinda blacked out and wrote 2000 words for this... Sorry?

Please enjoy!

It was quiet, without Jacob. The two of you had been dating for over a year, before suddenly all he could think of was Bella, Bella, Bella. She was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. You didn’t mind the two of them being friends, you weren’t jealous and you didn’t believe the rumors spreading at school, but you still wanted to SEE him! You loved him, for god’s sake! But no, Bella was sad or Bella was tired or Bella wanted to go exploring and suddenly, he had no time for you. 

It had been weeks since you’d last truly spoken beyond a quick 20 minute phone call every time you tried to hang out. In fact, you decided, today was the last day. It was the last day you would grovel and beg for his attention. This was it; if he didn’t agree today, you were done. He could go date Bella for all you cared.

You stomped down the stairs, your socked feet hitting against the soft white carpet, and skidded into the tiled kitchen. The grey light streamed in, illuminating the phone like a halo. It was fitting for something that would determine the fate of your relationship.

Angry, yet hopeful, you strode forward and picked up the phone, resolutely dialing Jacob’s number and waiting as it rang.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?” Jacob called, sounding groggy.

“Hey, Jake! I was thinking, we should spend some time together! It’s been a hard couple of weeks, and I haven’t seen you at all!” You said, anger draining and hope filling your chest, suddenly feeling weak at the knees. God, you’d missed his voice. “Can’t, Bella and I are going to try and build the motorcycles. You know she’s been having a hard time recently, and I think I’m really helping!” He responded, sounding distracted and far from the phone. 

The hope shattered like ice, cutting up your insides. “Jake, we haven’t hung out in 3 weeks. I could really use my boyfriend today,”. Even to your own ears, your voice was pleading. It sounded weak and brittle, like you were fragile, not the strong front you’d tried to put on for him.

He sighed, voice crackly through the receiver. “Listen, you know Bella hasn’t been doing so well, and I’m the only thing that makes her feel better. You can’t expect me not to go out with her, just because you’re feeling a bit lonely…” His voice was exasperated and distant, like he was already done with the conversation.

Suddenly, that anger came roaring back, licking up the sides of your chest and burning away at your heart. You felt yourself trembling with rage, with despair, at the way he was talking to you.

“No, you listen, Jacob! I’m done! If you aren’t going to see me, if you’re going to prioritize Bella, then you can go stay with her! I never want to see your stupid, selfish face ever again, you fucking asshole!” You practically shouted, slamming the phone down. You whirled around, nose practically bellowed steam, and stomped to the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. You’d show him, you’d go out and have fun all by yourself and prove you didn’t need such a shitty boyfriend anyways!

It’d been a month since you last talked to Jacob, and while the breakup hurt, you were glad you’d ended the relationship when you had. Looking back, the thought of hanging on was depressing; you’d reconnected with your friends in the past month, going out practically every day and hanging out anytime it got too rainy to go to La Push. You hadn’t seen Jacob or Bella around, and you could honestly say you were happy to not have to so much as think about them anymore. It wasn’t your business.

It was the perfect day to go La Push, and your friends were already there when you pulled into the parking lot. It was overcast, no real sign of rain, and a gentle, cool breeze was drifting through. The beach was covered in large rocks, not really meant for swimming, but perfect for drinking and just listening to music and gossiping, and that’s exactly what you did. 

Until, of course, they arrived. Jacob had been sure they were a blossoming gang, but you hadn’t been so sure. You’d never really spoken to them but Billy had thought they were good kids, just a bit… odd. Yet, now, seeing them on the beach, you could understand where Jacob would’ve gotten that misconception. Sam and his friends were massive, Sam himself standing at almost 6’6” by the looks of it and the shortest member, the boy with the dimpled chin, cleared 6’0” easily. They were heavily muscled, each wearing cargo shorts and shirtless, and were rough-housing as they walked, bumping into each other and shoving each other as they approached your small group. The loudest of the boys, the one with the intense expression and the loud voice, shoved the smallest and laughed boisterously. Then, he looked over. And he made eye contact with you.

And he stared.

And stared.

Eventually, you grew uncomfortable, shifting uneasily on the small picnic blanket you were sitting on as you looked away, toward Sam. He was pulling the loud boy to the side, harshly whispering as the boy kept eye contact. You leant over to your friend, quietly asking which boy was which. You listened as she pointed them out; the one staring at you was Paul, and he was dangerous. You gulped, once again looking away and out toward the shoreline.

“Hey, mind if we join you guys?” Sam asked, approaching with his group and staring at you. The others also looked exclusively at you, though not as intensely as Paul, as though your answer was the only one that mattered. Shivering, suddenly cold, you nodded and looked down. “Hey, at least they’re hot,”one of the girls in your group muttered, and the tension was broken. You burst into laughter, snorting as you held your sides. At least you weren’t feeling uncomfortable anymore, even if you did feel a little dorky. You glanced up through your lashes and Paul was still staring, though less intensely, a soft gleam in his eyes and a small, genuine smile on his lips.

That was the beginning of your relationship with Paul.

You woke up to loud pounding on your front door. Racing down the stairs, you skidded to a stop in the front hall, making eye contact with Bella. Fucking Bella Swan was at your door at 6 in the morning, pounding furiously and looking like death warmed over. You sighed, resigned to not getting to sleep in on a Saturday, and opened the door slowly.

“There’s something wrong with Jacob!” Bella exclaimed. She looked haggard, eyes ringed with deep purple bags and pale skin looking almost translucent. Her hair was ragged and greasy, hanging limply around her wan face, clothes baggy and dirty. She looked like shit. Maybe Jacob broke up with her?

“Okay, and why does that involve me?” You said, leaning against the door jamb and staring off into the distance, squinting at the pale morning light.

“You’re his girlfriend, he’s bound to listen to you!” She cried, thin clammy hand clutching at your wrist as she tried to tug you toward her red rustbucket of a truck.

You remained unmoved, now glaring at her. “No, Bella, I’m not his girlfriend, we haven’t been together for over a month, and I haven’t seen him in over a month and a half. He spent all his time with you; why would he listen to me now?”

She paused, hearing the hurt hidden in your voice and glancing up into your eyes for the first time all morning.

“Wait… you broke up? But Jacob loves you!” She said, voice weaker than before, almost a whisper.

“Yeah, well, he cared about you more. But, I guess if he’s in trouble, fine. What do you need me to do?”

Jacob’s yard looked exactly the same as you remembered it. That made you feel oddly sad, like you’d subconsciously expected it to reflect Jacob’s sadness at you leaving. Yet, it remained the same, just as it was before you’d ever come into his life. Had you really had such a small impact?

Bella was already out of the truck, running toward Paul and the others as they sauntered toward the house from the tree line. You sprinted to keep up, knowing she was going to say something and futilely trying to prevent it. When you reached them, she had shoved Paul and was accusing the boys of hurting Jacob, whatever that meant. Paul was shaking, literally trembling, as his muscles jumped and leapt under his skin. It looked like his skin was… moving as he puffed in effort. “Paul?” you tentatively approached, drawing closer as he leant over, panting as his shoulders jerked. “Shit!” Sam cursed, leaping forward to pull you back and away from Paul. You kicked and struggled as he picked you up, trying to get back to Paul. Couldn’t they see he was sick?!

Suddenly, Paul was gone, and in his place was… a giant wolf. It was like he’d been cut out of the world and replaced. What had happened to Paul?

“Bella!” Jacob shouted, vaulting over the porch fence. His skin seemed to split open, replacing by rapidly growing fur, and his face elongated as his nose broke and became discolored. By the time he hit the ground, he was a wolf. Were you hallucinating? You felt faint, leaning heavily against Sam, who shifted to support your weight and drag you away from the fight. Both wolves were now circling each other, growling and barking, trying to nip at each other's flanks. You felt like you were receding from your body, like you weren’t real. Everything felt far away, and your ears rang. Then, you passed out and went limp.

You jerked awake with a gasp almost as soon as Sam caught your full weight, shifting to lift you up into his arms.

“Paul!” he called, and the wolf who had replaced Paul looked over, eyes wide and sad as he saw your trembling form. Then, the wolf was gone and Paul was standing in its place, quickly pulling on clothes as Embry passed a pair of shorts to him. He cursed lowly and jogged over, grabbing you from Sam’s arms and holding you close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, like a prayer.

He sent you down gently, still holding you close to his chest, enveloping you in his soft warmth as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. The world went quiet and all was right, until Jacob interrupted the two of you by shoving Paul.

“Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!” He yelled out, punching Paul hard in the nose and causing a spurt of blood to leak out. Paul cursed again and spat out a mouthful of blood, growling lowly. “You don’t get to say that, asshole! You broke her heart, you have no right to tell her what to do!” Paul returned, standing his ground as Embry and Jared tried frantically to stop the fight from continuing. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put her in danger!”

“I didn’t! She didn’t know until your little girlfriend came along and started shit!” Paul bellowed, gesturing at Bella, who was shrinking into herself behind Jake.

“Don’t bring her into this! This is about your shitty control, Paul! Don’t blame Bella for you not being able to handle a little pressure!”

“Stop!” Sam said, getting in between the two. “Jacob, you go blow off some steam. Don’t come back until you’re calm. And Paul…” Sam continued, trailing off as everyone looked at you. “Just… Just explain everything, okay?” He said, sighing and rubbing his forehead to fight away the growing headache.

Paul turned to you, opening his mouth to speak. 

And that was the day you learned about shifters.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Wanna Make Purple?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After one woman takes a look into your studio, she suggests hosting a class so others may enjoy the art of finger painting. Youn thought she wanted to know about the class so she could join. No, it’s her son who walks through the door and turns your world upside down.

Square Filled: diana reid for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your small studio in the bustling city of Quantico is insignificant but you love it. You’re an aspiring artist who wishes to be featured in museums and have galleries open all over the country. If you work hard enough, you’ll get there one day. If you’re not in your apartment, you’re spending time in your studio that’s completely filled with art supplies, half-finished paintings, sculptures that you never finished, and furniture that’s paint-covered. You’re not a sculptor but you’re taking some classes to get better at it and broaden your artistic scope.

The curtains are open allowing natural sunlight to shine through the windows, and it gives your studio a homely feel to it. Even your apartment has bigger windows than it should because you love letting in natural light. The sun is setting which means it’s time for you to pack up and head back home for the night. You’re cleaning up the supplies you used when you notice someone standing outside the floor-length windows at the front.

The woman immediately leaves when she notices you looking but you don’t think much of it. Many people walk by when you’re in here to admire what you do so you’re not fazed by the woman. However, someone knocks on your door seconds after she leaves. You wipe your hands on your apron and open the door to see the same woman now standing right in front of you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Sorry for bothering you but I couldn’t help but notice what beautiful art you have.”

You look back at your art and smile at the compliment. You like to do a lot of things to stay relevant but you feel happiest when you fingerpaint. You love getting down and dirty with the art and using what you have instead of what you can buy to create timeless pieces. Finger painting is more than just putting paint on your finger and making lines. It’s precision and knowing when you use your pinkie instead of your thumb or when you use a knuckle or your palm. You’re in control of every little thing so in the end, you can truly say you gave it all.

“Thank you. I have a lot of fun finger painting. I think more people should do it.”

“Do you offer classes?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Well, I’m here in Virginia for a little while so if you reconsider, I know someone who would be eager to take a class.”

“Thank you. I will think about it.”

The woman leaves shortly after but her suggestion stays in your head long after she is gone. Teaching a class? Do you even have time for that? With school and your own business, you’re not sure if you have the energy to teach a dozen students. If you can, how old should they be? Children or adults? No, don’t be silly. Yeah, adults are going to be a lot easier to work with. Hosting a class whether that be once a week or a few times a week is a huge commitment, but you always said more people should be finger painting.

A few weeks go by until you’ve convinced yourself that teaching a small class would be beneficial for you. If you can put that on your resume, it shows commitment and willingness to work with a team. Thousands of people are following you on social media, so that’s how you reach out to everyone that you will be teaching a small class on a trial basis. If it works, great. If not, then you won’t lose any sleep over it.

Dozens of people around the country wish they could be in Virginia to attend your class. If all goes well, you might be able to visit other places and teach more people. One thing at a time, Y/N. The ones that are local have expressed interest but none of the people online look like the woman who met you that evening in your studio. You’re not sure how to get ahold of her or if she has social media and thankfully, you don’t need to deal with it.

The woman walks past your studio while looking at her phone, and you leave to catch up to her before she is gone forever.

“Ma’am?” She turns and stares at you as if she’s trying to remember who you are. “Hi, you stopped by my studio a few weeks ago. You asked me if I was teaching any classes.”

“I did?” Something crosses her eyes and she smiles immediately. “Of course, I did! Have you reconsidered?”

“Yeah. I’m actually putting together a class this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“It’s at my studio at two in the afternoon on Saturday.”

“Perfect. Thank you for telling me.”

“Sure. I hope to see you there.”

You two part ways shortly after that, and you go back to prepping your studio to fit at least half a dozen people. You want them to have their own space so you spread out the canvases evenly throughout with a side table for them to keep their paints. Saturday comes quicker than you think and before you know it, your studio is filled with everyone who signed up for it. The woman you met isn’t here and you’ve been trying to find something to do to stall time, however, you’re already running ten minutes past two.

It sucks but you’ll have to start without her.

“Alright, thank you all for coming. I appreciate your eagerness to finger paint. No, I promise you that this isn’t like most finger painting is.” The door opens and a very tall and lean man walks in wearing jeans, a white shirt, a sweater vest over that, and a tie tucked between them. “Hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt but my mother signed me up for this class. Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Well, Spencer, take a seat. There’s one in the back.”

“Thanks. Sorry for being late.”

Spencer scurries to the back of the class and takes a seat, and you continue what you are saying.

“As I was saying, finger painting is so much more than putting paint on your fingers. I’ll have another class next week to go more into it but I want you guys to get used to the feel of paint on your fingers. I want you to create lines, and connect them if you want, but for the first ten minutes or so, I want you to really get used to the idea of not using paintbrushes. Use any color you like and begin.”

Everyone chooses the color they want and squirts the paint onto the palette on the small desk next to the easels. Two girls in the front giggle like schoolgirls at getting down and dirty with the paint while two men are apprehensive about getting their fingers dirty.

“Don’t worry about getting paint everywhere. It’s washable.”

Everyone seems to be in good spirits and you give encouraging words where you can. You approach Spencer who is having a hard time keeping paint long enough on his fingers to create a straight line.

“Having trouble?”

“A little, I guess. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like finger painting. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t get the point of finger painting. It’s messy and unpredictable and it’s hard to control what the paint is going to do.”

“Really? You think finger painting is childish?”

“Yeah.”

“Clean your hand. Let me show you something.”

Spencer does as he’s told while you squirt green, blue, and pink paint onto the palette. You grab Spencer’s hand and barely dip two of his fingers into the blue and two into the pink. You press his fingers to the canvas lightly, creating little dots that will represent the petals on a lavender flower. Once done, you have him clean his hand so you can create the stems of the flower.

“See? Finger painting is more than just putting paint on the canvas. It’s about manipulating the art as a whole and controlling every aspect of it. Brushes are different. They might have benefits that this way doesn’t but I’ve always found it harder to control a brush than it is my own fingers.”

“Impressive,” he says, looking deep into your eyes.

Spencer is in awe of your work. He doesn’t know what to say to this. He doesn’t mind being proven wrong. In fact, he finds it very attractive when someone can outsmart him. Someone calls your name and you leave Spencer’s side to help her out, but Spencer can’t take his eyes off you.

Throughout the entire class, Spencer has a hard time focusing on painting because he can’t help but notice you. He keeps asking for help knowing he can do it but he really wants to feel you right next to him holding his hand. You don’t mind. Spencer is the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

It doesn’t hurt to play a bit.

After the hour is over, everyone clears out of your studio, eager for the next one. If all classes are like this, you might consider doing this more often. Spencer is the last one out but instead of leaving like he should, he closes the door so that it’s only you and Spencer alone.

“Good job today. With a few more classes, you’ll be an expert.”

“You’re the expert, not me.”

He gathers everyone’s paint tubes and places them in the box at the front of the class while you grab the palettes that you’ll clean later. You and Spencer meet at the last easel but neither of you pick anything up.

“You got a little something…” He gestures to his own lips. “You got red paint on your lips.”

“Like I said, it’s washable. It’ll come off with a shower. Plus, it’s non-toxic so it can get in your mouth and it won’t hurt you.”

“Good to know.”

He takes two steps closer to you and you’re suddenly aware of how tall and handsome he is. Your eyes shift down to his lips and you smirk slightly.

“You got blue on your lips.”

“Wanna make purple?”

You don’t have to answer him. Pulling him in and pressing your lips to his is a good enough answer in and of itself. Spencer pulls you closer by your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck. Damn, he’s even a good kisser. Whoever his mom is, you gotta thank her for bringing her son to your class.

x

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[soupandsimple]

Feelings (with Aaron Hotchner)

[ the lead up of you and neighbor, Aaron, revealing you have feelings for each other ]

* fluff 🩶 (+ light angst)

** have never watched the show, have never wrote for him and will probably never write for him again but I’ve read a ton of his fics and had this idea and just really wanted to write it out and share it!(pls be nice)

…………….

Aaron is your divorcee neighbor; has been for about a year. Within that year, you’d say you’d become pretty good friends with him as well as with his son who he had with him most weekends. To anyone, it was all seemingly platonic from both ends. You’d bake and gift them batches of sweets and he’d take down any packages you may need sent out on his way to work in the morning…etc.

Any unspoken feelings either of you harbored unfortunately only began to come to light when his ex wife, Hayley, was horrifically killed.

Aaron came to your door as soon as he could the night of the tragedy and with glossy eyes said, “Is this a bad time? I need someone to talk to.”

“No, of course not. Come in,” your voice shook, instantly thinking the worst. “What happened Aaron, where’s Jack? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s with..with Hayley’s family,” he said, struggling to keep up his stoic demeanor before completely breaking down in sobs. “Oh Y/N.. it’s awful, it’s — … you have- you have no idea.”

That was the first night you ever spent together. He had fallen asleep on your shoulder with teary eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him. When you both woke up in the morning, Aaron apologized for burdening you with his troubles and said he had to get going to see what was going on with the funeral preparations. Although neither of you mentioned it, there was a shift in your friendship from that day forward.

After giving him some space to tend to what he needed to do, you went over to his place.

“Hi. I was going to come over yesterday but who wants to see anyone after a funeral..” you said lightly, walking in after he gestured you inside his apartment.

“I would have loved if you did.”

You nodded and tried not to blush as he closed the door. “Is Jack here?”

“No. I’m letting him spend one last day with Hayley’s parents while they’re still in town.”

He then went on to explain how the plan was for his sister-in-law, Jess, to start coming around to help out with Jack when he couldn’t be with him but that in the meantime, he’d be looking after him while he took some time off from work while Jack took some time off from school too.

“Well I hope you know you can also count on me helping out too.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but you’re more than welcome to. I know Jack loves having you around...”

You ordered takeout that night so he wouldn’t have to make dinner or be alone and before you left, promised you’d be back in the morning.

“Y/N, when you said you could help I thought you meant after I went back to work. You don’t have to start rearranging your schedule yet, I’m still going to be around for a couple of days.”

“I know…but I know you and I know you’ve been putting up a brave front for me tonight and you don’t have to do that with me. I want to be here for you to lean on these coming days.”

“I don’t-”

“I’ll be here tomorrow, and don’t forget to drink that cup of tea I made you before bed, ” you said with a quick, parting hug, leaving him no time to protest as you were already back inside your own place.

You ended up helping the following days more than he ever expected. Since you were an assistant to an event planner, you worked mostly from home making and getting calls; the hours were very flexible so it gave you the ability to do all you could for the Hotchner boys.

Meals and household chores, like laundry and dishes, were all easier for Aaron to accomplish with you around; you were such a positive encouragement for both of them as you made sure Jack stayed on top of his tasks too, like making his bed, brushing his teeth and cleaning up after himself.

Of course with being over everyday, Jack began clinging to you more than he ever used to and while you loved the little boy to pieces, you were worried if you being around so much would affect him negatively. When you expressed your worries to Aaron one night after Jack went to sleep, he immediately put them to an end.

“I don’t know if you knew this but Hayley knew about you. Jack would talk to her about you … and she enjoyed it— listening to how much you cared for her little boy,” Aaron told you as you both stood leaning against the island in his dimly lit kitchen before you left for the night.

“I didn’t know that,” you answered, eyes beginning to gloss.

So what if he left out the small detail of Hayley telling him he should ask out his pretty neighbor Jack always talked about; that wasn’t the important part of the memory, well, important for the matter at hand anyway.

“And almost every night before bed, Jack tells me that he’s happy you’ve been coming everyday. That you make him feel ‘okay-er’. Y/N, he loves you and he knows you’re not here to replace anyone.”

Mind at ease then, with a small smile and a stray tear or two, you pushed yourself off the kitchen island and hugged yourself into his chest, which he more than happily accepted and embraced you tightly into for a minute.

“Thanks for making me feel ‘okay-er’ about all this,” you said, looking up at him from where your head rested against him.

He smiled down at you and wiped a tear from your cheek. “Thank you for being here for us.”

All was well as the days went on until it was time for Aaron to return to work. Jack had returned to school the day before and since everything went smoothly, Aaron could then confidently go back to work too knowing Jack had readjusted just fine.

But that morning, Aaron took longer than usual to come out dressed for the day after breakfast, and the time frame he could use to take Jack to school before work was starting to get dangerously close to closing.

“Hey Jack, I’m going to go check on your dad. If he doesn’t come out soon you just might be late for school. Stay put while I get him, finish watching your show,” you said, tickling his side a little making him giggle as you walked off to Aarons room.

You knocked twice at his door and when he didn’t answer either time, you took a little bit of a risk and went in uninvited. What you saw was him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor pensively, dress shirt untucked and tie undone around his collar.

“Aaron?” you spoke quietly.

“I can’t do this,” he said, still looking down.

You closed the door behind you and slowly walked towards him.

“You can’t do what?”

“Return to the real world.”

Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you sat down next to him and waited for him to continue.

“It’s been- it’s been so great being here in the apartment with just Jack and you… in our own little private world but I’m afraid— it just all feels so different. I feel different. I don’t think I’m going back mentally the same way I left.”

“Well of course you’re not going back the same. You went through something incredibly traumatizing..”

You grabbed one of the bottom edges of his tie and looked down at your fingers as you delicately ran them back and forth over the smooth silk.

“Aaron, I know you’re a little nervous of stepping back into everyday life and I’m.. a little nervous for you too but you got this. I believe in you. You’re the best at what you do and nobody can take that away from you,” you said, letting go of the tie. When you looked up at him, his eyes were on you and seemed to be full of fondness; it made you blush.

“N-now finish getting ready so you can go drop off that adorable little boy out there in time,” you smiled, nervously standing from where you sat next to him.

As you turned to walk away, he stood too and stretched his hand out to gently grab one of your wrists. You turned back completely and both just looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds; millions of unspoken words and emotions passing between you.

He then finally spoke.

“I really hope I’m not ruining anything but more than ever, I think it’s important to tell you I’ve had feelings for you for pretty much as long as I’ve known you.”

“I’ve had those feelings too, for you,” you admitted.

Relieved, he smiled and you did the same. Slipping his hand down from your wrist, he then took your hand into his properly and interlocked his fingers with yours.

Towering over you like always, he stepped closer and closer and slowly craned his head down as he gently placed the hand that wasn’t holding yours, behind your head. You both closed your eyes and you could feel his lips right in front of yours but could tell he was hesitant to go further.

“Kiss me Aaron,” you told him with a little tremble in your voice. And although you couldn’t see him, you felt him smile before he softly pushed his lips against yours.

Your first kiss was a tender one but after the initial pull away, both his hands landed on your waist and yours around his neck as you leaned back into each other for a more heated and passionate kiss. It was an internal struggle, but eventually you managed to pull yourself away from his lips completely.

“Jack needs to get to school,” you giggled.

Aaron rested his forehead against yours. “And I need to get to work. This beautiful neighbor of mine believes in me and I don’t want to let her down.”

“Hm, sounds like a smart girl,” you teased.

He stood tall and interlocked his hands with each of yours. “Incredibly smart, incredibly caring, incredibly attractive.. the list could go on,” he concluded, embracing you with a warm hug and a kiss to the top of your head. <3

[shadowsndaisies]

athena; the preamble

WC: 3k

synopsis: athena at a glance basically

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: i know I should be working on cnng, but this idea has just fully taken root. the brain rot is real.... please come talk to me about it... please

Having Maverick for a dad is exactly what it sounds like.

He played fast and loose with the rules of the Navy, which made him a highly decorated captain, but at the end of the day, he had two loves in his life, the Navy and his daughter. Despite the risks he took and the chances he played with, you never doubted your dad's love. You did, however, have to learn to speak his language.

That meant early mornings in the hangar, learning how to fix up engines and motors of relics. It meant doing homework on base after school. It meant learning ranks and callsigns as a kid. And so you did. You did it all. You learned poker and swindled more than a few Navy men before you'd even hit puberty. You smiled pretty for every commanding officer your father's managed to piss off. It also meant developing a need for speed.

Having Maverick for a dad meant being on edge every time he got deployed. It meant spending his deployments with Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah and your summers with Aunt Carole and Bradley.

Every deployment that fell during the school year was spent based out of the Kazansky house. You didn't mind too much. Uncle Ice and your dad always had each other's back, a bond forged in loss, that much you knew. Aunt Sarah acted like a mom; she cooked hot meals and taught you how to make some of your favorites. You spent time with their kids and went to school with them, too. It was fun spending time with Ryan and Elizabeth Kazansky. Ryan was about five years younger than you but a ball of energy, and little Lizzie was a planner and was often your partner in crime despite being eight years younger than you.

There were the odd in-betweens when your dad would have someone he trusted enough to watch you. That being said, you'd only ever spent a few deployments with someone not named Bradshaw or Kazansky; the exception was always one woman, Penny Benjamin.

You weren't an idiot.

Having Pete Mitchell for a dad meant wising up quick. Meant quick humor and a reckless streak that you had to work twice as hard to overcorrect and suppress because you both knew he'd never be the one to police you on it. It meant a semi-stable home life but so much love and too many role models. It also meant a fluctuating Penny.

Penny, who met your dad years before you were born. Penny, who you knew your dad loved and who loved your dad, even though they never seemed to get their timing right. Penny, who taught you how to sail, throw a proper punch, and French braid. Who showed you how to open a beer bottle without an opener in several different ways, using a belt buckle, a spoon, and your house keys? Penny, who was.. a mom. As much as you are reluctant to admit it publicly, Penny Benjamin was probably the closest thing you had to a mom because even though Aunt Sarah loved you and cared for you like she did with Elizabeth, she was always Aunt Sarah, never Mom. Even Aunt Carole, who was your godmother, could never truly fill the void of mother even though you know she tried her best to help you with the parts you missed out on. Penny was the only one who came close, at least when she was around she was.

Summers, though, were your favorite. Whether or not your dad was on deployment, you spent every summer in Virginia with the Bradshaws. You had a room that Carole always referred to as "little Miss Mitchell's room" and a best friend who taught you so much more about life.

Bradley.

Bradley, who taught you how to swing a bat and throw a football. Bradley, who gave you your first driving lesson when your dad got deployed before he could. Bradley, who you talked with weekly when you weren't living under the same roof. Bradley, who let you make fun of his name when you needed an easy out, Brad Brad, had been the running joke.

Bradley always had your back; he piggybacked you home when you skinned your knees during your skater girl summer. He took you out of the way to your favorite ice cream place whenever you had cramps and planted himself on the sofa with you to watch Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, and I Dream of Jeanie when you refused to move. Bradley, who ate the things you cooked when you'd test out Aunt Sarah's recipes and forgave you while throwing up when you gave him food poisoning when you were thirteen, who still trusted what you put in front of him even after that (though he had gotten you a meat thermometer and written up a cheat sheet to ensure you knew when it was fully cooked).

And you had his.

When Aunt Carole died, you mourned for months. Navy royalty knocked on your dad's door to share their condolences with the teen for weeks. Bradley had been seventeen at the time, about to start his senior year of high school. He completed that year back in San Diego. He'd had friends and people who cared for him in Virginia, who'd offered their homes for his final year of high school, but when your dad offered, he clung to the familiarity that was Mav. That year, your dad had a few deployments, and all of them were short. Looking back, you wonder if Uncle Ice had pulled strings to ensure that. Either way, when Bradley went to his senior prom, Mav was there. He filmed the awkward getting-ready stage, caught on camera as you helped Bradley tie his tie, and you got a great moment of Mav doing the last inspection before Bradley left to pick up his date.

You spent all your free weekends that spring at every single one of Bradley's baseball games. Aunt Sarah would come to every home game, and little Lizzie and Ryan loved screaming and cheering for Brad's mama. Look at Brad Brad go!

Bradley grieved and cried, and he was so incredibly sad and heartbroken. But he was still Bradley. He was still your best friend. He intimidated any guy who got too close and was the only person outside your father who you could love one second and be planning his murder the next. Bradley was your best friend; he was until he wasn't.

Until papers were pulled and words were exchanged, Bradley stormed out one day and never came back.

You found him; of course you did. He was your best friend. And even though you coaxed him out of his hiding spot, words were said. Phrases hurled at you that targeted the softest of spots that only he knew about. You held together; you had to. You got him at Viper's and left him there. You went to Ice's. You didn't talk to your dad for months, and Bradley never spoke to him again.

He reached out to you during your senior year of high school in an email apologizing for how he lashed out at you. You never responded. A scabbed spot in your heart that used to belong to him, still too raw to touch. He kept emailing, though. Random updates, more apologies, congratulations, and happy birthdays. You read every email, but you never could bring yourself to respond. Then, four years had gone by.

Bradley's bi-weekly email arrived when you were in your second year of university. You read it, reread it, and then read it a third time. Aviation Officer Candidate School. You weren't surprised; you knew Bradley wouldn't abandon his dream. You never thought he would, but being faced with the reality of it weighed heavily. Bradley being selected for AOCS was proof of his dedication. OCS, in general, required sponsors within the Navy and was much more difficult to get into than the Naval Academy; they only took individuals with a bachelor's degree to start with. However, for Bradley to get into AOCS, specifically the aviation program, someone up the ladder had to have helped. The more you sat with it, the harder it became to figure out who. It could have been Viper, who had dealt with an Angry, Confused, and Isolated Bradley for the remainder of his senior year and the summer, probably every summer after that. Or maybe it was Ice, cleaning up the mess your dad had made, just as he always did.

Your dad had cost Bradley four years in the Navy, but this program might help him bridge it, at least to some degree.

For the first time since the day you dropped him at Viper's, you respond.

Congratulations, Bradley, I'm glad you're achieving your dream.

That was it.

You didn't tell your dad. But you heard about it when he found out. Ice, thankfully, had given you a heads-up. You played dumb; you knew better than to admit to the emails. Your dad was strong and stubborn, but you'd seen what his and Bradley's blowout had done to him. The hollowness that followed him, the pain in his eyes at every memento and reminder. The ache in his heart is located between the gaps titled Goose and Carole.

He hadn't told you why he'd pulled Bradley's papers. You'd made (somewhat) peace (begrudgingly) with that when you finally let your dad back into your life nearly two months after the Pulling of the Papers, and only because he almost died in a bird strike and you as his next of kin had been notified upon his hospitalization.

When he heard about AOCS, though, the secret came spilling out. Carole asked me, and she gave me one request. You'd known your dad had a private conversation with Carole Bradshaw on her deathbed. You and Bradley had been asked to stand outside her hospital room while they talked. When you were allowed back in, they both had tears in their eyes. You'd always assumed it had something to do with Goose, and to an extent, you were right. Carole Bradshaw was one of the strongest women you'd ever met, but it seemed even she was afraid of the price you pay to the Navy for the honor of serving your country.

You weren't sure what drove you to it.

It could have been Bradley's transition into AOCS.

The truth your dad had finally shared.

Or because you still felt like you had something to prove.

Maybe even that need for speed that had never been handled properly.

But you enrolled in your university's Navy ROTC program that same week.

The most surprising part of the change was how easily it came. Orders sounded like they did on the bases you grew up on. Your history, lineage, and contacts helped get you started and acted as an excuse for your late decision to join. You found some semblance of peace in ROTC as if the missing parts of the puzzle were starting to become visible.

You weren't sure how you managed to get through ROTC and into your first year as a Naval officer without your dad finding out, but you did. And by then, it was too late for him to do to you what he'd done to Bradley.

Bradley, to his credit, had a mellower response, only because he didn't have your phone number anymore and could only type an email in caps lock to convey his yelling. He did include it on the bottom, though; I wish I'd thought of ROTC. I could've sped the pipeline along more.

You hadn't responded to any emails since his admission into AOCS, and if you watched his college graduation and sent a gift to Ice to pass off to him, that was nobody's business but yours.

Your dad was… displeased.

But he kept calling. He didn't freeze you out, and you didn't have it in you to do it to him again. So you talked, told him how training was, and when he finally asked you why? In such a pained voice, you told him the truth. There was no tangible reason, just that you had to do it, that this was your path. Safe to say, it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear.

Becoming an Aviator was difficult. Not only because of the requirements and the toll it takes. Not only because you were a woman. But because you faced accusations of nepotism at every turn. You were, however, your father's daughter, and his lack of movement within the Navy did not diminish his accomplishments. You learned. You learned from the best. From your teachers, from your peers, from your dad, and from the men you considered uncles. And you showed everyone what you were capable of. You were a Naval Aviator within a year of graduating from college and the ROTC program, achieving the rank quicker than almost anyone following the same pipeline. You made a name for yourself using your brain. Where people were quick to assume nepotism, you were quick to show them your dry wit, sharp tongue, and tactical thinking.

That's where the callsign came from. Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, daughter of Zeus, and king of the gods. It fit well.

You did two and a half years as a Naval Aviator Officer in training in Norfolk and another two in Japan as a Junior Officer before you got the call.

Top Gun.

Returning to San Diego was… nostalgic. Being on the Miramar base even more so. You faced criticism of nepotism from your peers here as well; never mind that only the top two percent of naval aviators are invited to Top Gun to begin with. But you worked hard and proved your calling had more to do with wisdom and war than whose daughter you were. You came out of it with two friends: a pilot named Brigham Lennox, callsign: Harvard, and his WSO Logan Lee, callsign: Yale. Both of whom were the only two to wise up within the first day and realize you are so much more than your name.

It's also why the three of you were at the top of your class.

Afterward, Yale and Harvard are sent to Oceana, off the East Coast, where you knew Bradley had been based on his emails. And you were kept in state and sent to Lemoore. You preferred that, not that you'd say so. But being in-state meant being able to visit with Ice, even when you knew he wasn't doing so well, and it meant you could continue to avoid Bradley in peace. At Lemoore, you got placed with the VFA-14, the Tophatters, also known as the oldest currently active aircraft squadron in the US Navy. There's a lot of history attached there, a legacy to make proud of, as Ice and Viper would like to remind you when you'd join them for a monthly poker game.

Being stationed with the Tophatters came with two significant perks: Natasha Trace, callsign: Phoenix, and Jake Seresin, callsign: Hangman. Stationed with the VFA-41 (Black Aces) and VFA-151 (Vigilantes) respectively. Despite the fact that the two of them could not stand each other, you formed friendships with them both. In Natasha, you found someone who understood the uphill battle for women in service, but more than that, you found someone who kept it honest, called it like she saw it, and loved you for who you were.

With Jake, it was different. His bravado and charm worked, but not on you. Where other pilots got fed up with his cocky bullshit, you were able to stay leveled and see through. A benefit you shared once after a few beers of being raised by the best of the best. There must have been a sharper edge to your reminisces than you remember because Jake never made a nepo baby joke after that. A casual one here or there, but none at the heart of it, none with genuine malice. Not like he had in the beginning.

Jake allowed you to be. Rough edges and jagged ends. He kept your feet on the ground when you spent most of your day in the skies. You like to think you balanced him out a bit, too. Able to keep him from getting too stuck in the clouds, too sure of himself. You were always happy to knock him down a peg or two; truthfully, sometimes, he needed you to do so.

You found happiness on Commander, Carrier Wing Nine in the Strike Fighter Wing Pacific. You excelled in your squad and gained recognition and honors, ribbons that decorated your lapel. You talked with your dad, mostly about random things, given the confidentiality of both his and your assignments, but you found time. Ice and Sarah checked in, and Viper, too. And every time your feet were on solid ground, they found time for a barbecue or a poker game, or both, usually both.

You still read Bradley's emails. Bi-weekly had turned to monthly, and even then, they didn't come every month, but they did come, always with a reason, just as they had been for the last decade and change. You never could figure out why he kept sending them. You'd thought about replying, now, years after the rage and pain and grief you'd held onto had been let go of, nothing productive ever came from holding on too tight, you'd learned. But Bradley sent the emails, sometimes signing his name as Bradley or Rooster, but on the nostalgic ones, he'd always put Brad Brad, an olive branch, you knew, but you never could get yourself to click send on the drafts you'd write out, dozens of them sitting in the drafts folder as it was.

You'd found your space; it wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

And then you got recalled.

And so did 'Nix.

And Jake.

Then the email came in, and they're calling me back to Top Gun for some detachment. Maybe I could find time to come to Lemoore?

And then your dad hit Mach 10 and was missing in action for over five hours, only to be found in some small-town diner in the middle of nowhere Idaho.

He was sent back to Miramar, too.

And you were left wondering what the fuck was happening now, flying down with Phoenix and Hangman on your wings, and why it seemed to be colliding all the fragments of your world.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[deformedcat]

The 5 love language

pairing: artist male y/n x childhood friend oc

warning: vomiting, stalking, obsessive behaviour, gore, open ending, not proof read, v rushed 📣📣

Valentine's Day, a day to spend with your loved ones, something you didn't have.

Forget spending Valentine's day with anyone- you had work at the convenience store. Sure, you're an artist, but money won't magically appear onto your kitchen counter.

Despite that, it didn't bother you as much as the sight you saw around you that day. (though bother might not be fitting, more like envious) There were couples everywhere on dates, holding hand and showing their affection towards each other. Bleh. (translation: when is it my turn?)

Either way, you could complain all you want but life still goes on. Sighing, you walk towards your apartment, staring down at your phone to avoid the sights of couples. It wasn't until an envelope at your door caught your attention.

The envelope had a simple yet design with a heart shape sticker on it, you hesitantly take it and enter your apartment.

After sitting on your couch for abit, you cautiously and gradually opens the letter, wary of any potential pranks, but nothing happened.

"Dear y/n

Happy Valentine's day, well, it's not Valentine's day yet but it will be soon.

I've always had a big crush on you, but i never gotten the chance to confess to you directly. Truth to be told, i'm not a courageous person, but you give me the strength to do so today :).

You are the most strongest, admirable person I've met. Whenever i listen to your music, I'm hit in awe with how talented you are. I fall even harder everytime i see you. Your presence is already enough for me to keep going.

Do you know the saying "the 5 love language"? They are words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. I would love to know which one is your love language, but instead of asking, I want to let you experience all of them. I aim to make you feel loved in every way possible, starting with words of affirmation!"

..Ah.

A secret admirer,,?

You honestly didn't know something so cliche that would be done in a high school romance movie would happened to yourself, in real life.

The rest of the kettle had you fuming like a kettle, was this person a fan of poets? They sure had their way with words.

As sweet as the letter sounds, you couldnt help but feel crept out by this, how much does this person knows you? Do you even know this person?

You could only hope that it's not someone creepy, like a stalker.. You opened your phone and take a picture of the letter, sending it to your childhood bestfriend.

y/n:

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

?

what's this?

y/n:

love letter,

saw it in front of my

apartment

hyeon:

does someone have a lil crush on little y/n :0?

y/n:

hyeon:

Daniel's got a competitor 😄

y/n:

NEVER

im forever loyal to daniel

👎👎

hyeon:

haha

why are you showing me this?

y/n:

idk

felt a lil crept out

dont u think its weird??

how did they know where i lived? idfk who they are

hyeon:

hmm, thats true.

maybe it's a neighbour? they mentioned they could hear your music, they might be living around your area ?

y/n:

that make it even worse

hyeon:

lock your doors and windows, you wouldnt want to entice your little 'admirer' to break in do you?

y/n:

gtg, bye

hyeon:

i was just joking D:!

I'll be back from Russia soon, i promise <3

y/n

mm, maybe dont.

take care tho

A few days went by and nothing happened, you were beginning to wonder if the letter was just a prank from the kids around the area.

Regardless, you didn't care, you were to tired from your work ealier. Getting yelled at by your manager in front of the customers, for something rather silly. (you looked really tired but manager took it as "mf u dont like ur work isit) This was far fron the first time, and not the worst thing that had happened, but it didn't make it less draining.

you went into your apartment, turned on the light and fell right onto your couch. Rent was due in 3 weeks,, you were mentally preparing yourself to starve for the next few days to be able to have a roof under your head.

everything was tiring you out, and you just want a car to come running into you already, but the house isn't going to clean itself. You had to do chores because you have been putting off chores for a few days now. It's going to pile up the more you tell yourself "i'll do it tomorrow." so you pushes your body off the couch to start.

maybe you can start by taking out the trash.

problem was, the trash was missing. you stared at the empty, new plastic bag over the trash you didn't remember replacing. are you hallucinating?

you went over the sink to wash the dishes, to find them cleaned and kept neatly inside the cabinet. huh.

you must be going crazy, you were sure you did not wash those dishes nor keep them. even if you did, you wouldn't store them as neat as this.

are you going insane?

you quickly check the laundry, and sure enough, they were all done up. the dirty clothes were washed, the one that you didn't bother folding was folded and put away in your bedroom. Neatly.

was your landlord here this morning? Even if he was, he wouls never done something like this. He only ever told you to stop being so lazy and clean the messy apartment. He even once demanded you to clean everything up while be watched but thats it.

you hit your head against the wall, hard, to check if you had not actually fallen asleep on the couch and this was all just a dream. you winced at the pain on your forehead, that sure gave you an answer that youre not hallucinating.

maybe you're just overworked..?

you sat on your bed, noticing a familiar envelope with another sticker on your pillow.

what the fuck.

you opened the envelope, which in it read,

"dear y/n,

Surprise, it's an act of service this time! you're so hardworking that you tire yourself out,, so i decided to do somethinf to lighten the load for you. Remember to take a break when you need it okay?

I also cooked dinner for you, it's your favourite :). They're in the fridge, please enjoy, it's not healthy to starve yourself.

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you wanted to kill yourself.

your stalker is in fact, a stalker.

how did they get in your house?

how did they know your habits?

you didn't even bother eating the food in the fridge, letting it sit there as you spend the night searching for cameras in your house.

y/n:

hyeon,

they broke in

the mf that sent the letter broke in

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

broke in?

how? didn't i told you to lock the doors and windows?

y/n:

idfk hyeon

they broke in and like

did my chores

and even cook dinner for me

saying its an act of service

hyeon:

are you safe?

y/n:

i dont know am i

i know this sounds weird af but im

not joking

i dont feel safe in my house rn

hyeon:

call the police.

y/n:

with what evidence

tell them that someone sent two envelope, broke into my bouse, did my chores and cooked a meal for me??

ill sound like a maniac

then they'll send me to a mental hospital

hyeon:

you'll never know unless you try,

y/n, this sound dangerous, your life could be on the line bere.

please just call the police and see if they can do anything about it.

do you still have that previous letter with you?

y/n:

yeah

hyeon:

show that to them, including the new one.

y/n:

ok

ill try

hyeon:

okay.

i wish i wasnt in russia right now.

im so sorry, please wait a bit more, ill come back soon.

update me whenever you can.

y/n:

dont be sorry,

thank you.

you never had a peaceful sleep for the next few days, the only thing keeping you sane is messaging hyeon everyday.

you have been so worn out from what happened that night. you had gone to the police, but after they didnt found anything suspicious in your house besides the two letter, they then left and told you to contact them if anything happened.

useless. you texted to hyeon.

neither did the police nor you could find any hidden cameras around your house, but that didnt mean you were safe. they could missed them, or not search at the right place.

you were sitting on your couch, scrolling down your phone to distract what had happened. suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

you groaned, thinking it was your landlord, you got up, walked to your door and peek from the peephole. nobody was there.

you opened the door slowly, immediately notices the stench behind the door. sitting on the floor in the dark hallway were two boxes wrapped like gifts with a gold ribbon.

crimson liquid was seeping through the boxes, on top of one of the box was an envelope, the one you had received a few days prior.

you suppressed the urge to throw up as you felt your breath getting quicker and shallower. you opened your phone and called the police and messaged hyeon

y/n

hyeon

when the polices arrived, they opened the boxes and envelope. one of the polices seems panickes and quickly rushes to you bringing the envelope, making you read it.

"Dear y/n,

Two, the number of hands one would need to do a heart, i thought it would be romantic to give you two gifts. After all, what's Valentine's day without gifts?

I've seen the way those two treated you, i couldnt stand watching them mistreated you. How prideful that human trash must be to push all his mistakes onto you then punishes you? Just because he's a manager? You don't deserve that, dear, so, this is for you.

And that bastard landlord of yours, the way he stares at you and put his hand at you is so disgusting. If he's gonna look at you like that, he don't deserve his eyes. Just because he's your landlord, does not mean he can put his hand on you like that, so i cut them off.

i hope you enjoy the gifts, dear. I guess this can be considered to be acts of service too? I look foward to spending some quality time with you. I can't wait to finally have you in my arm.

ps. inside the hand of your manager is a necklace. <3

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you glanced at the content of the boxes, puking at the side after seeing the blood hand of your manager and your landlord's head with his eyes gouge out.

you felt helpless.

you had nowhere to go.

you didnt wanna stay here anymore, you dont feel safe anywhere.

you just want to die.

as the police patting your backs and gives you a bottle of water, you receives a text message on his phone.

hyeon:

hey, i'm here now.

i'm sorry i couldn't reply to you earlier, i just arrived in south korea.

y/n:

hyeon thank god

please

can i stay at your place for a while

i cant stay here anymore

hyeon:

Of course, i'll pick you up.

when you finally met hyeon, you collapsed into the taller man's arm, letting the tears out you have been holding in as hyeon holds you close, embracing you in much needed warmth and comfort.

"here," hyeon placed down a plate of fried rice in front of you, coincidentally it being your favourite food but you dont have any appetite after what happened.

"i can tell you havent been eating well, it's all i have at the moment, but its better than nothing."

you appreciated him, but didnt wanna eat anything at the moment, the sight of your landlors was still fresh in your mind.

"thanks, but i feel really sick right now." you felt bad for putting hyeon through the trouble, only to turn it down in the end. "i'll heat it up and have it tomorrow."

"maybe you at least drink some water?"

"sure." Hyeon was already pouring a warm cup of water for you, you were glad you at least had hyeon to come to.

you two spent a while in an awkward silence, it was like hyeon would not ask what had happened until you were ready to talk about it yourself.

"do you have work later?" you asked to distract yourself.

No, hyeon had alarms around the house. He would be notified of any suspicious activities detected.

"no, my manager said he'll take care of it."

"oh.."

then the silence were back again, until hyeon opened his mouth.

"are you going to sleep now?"

"I.." you were sure you would not be able to sleep tonight, you do not know where that stalker was, what if they too breaks into hyeon's house? will you put him in danger as well?

Even so, you're still on edge.

"do you want to share a room?"

"what?"

"you don't have to sleep alone when i'm right here for you to cuddle with!"

you sighed, "hyeon-"

"no really, maybe im just overprotective but i really dont want to leave you alone. We can catch up on the past month, and maybe if i talk enough, it might put you to sleep?"

you cried into his arms for the second time that night.

you could not remember the last time you was help to sleep, you didnt think there was ever a time actually. when he slept besides hyeon, the latter would always wrap his body around you like a koala.

not that it surprised you, hyeon had always been handsy with you ever since the two was young, but only around him.

whenever they ate together, hyeon would reach his hand out to wipe a grain of rice or a drop of sauce off your face.

whenever they play fight, hyeon would always hug you as a way to "immobilize you". when hyeon suggested decorating the house for Valentine's day to take your mind off of things, he would hold your hand and guide you through tying ribbons and hanging decorations.

And when you still couldnt stop the anxiety from rising, hyeon would hold you so close, no matter what time it is, he would remind you to breathe, and prepare plastic bags for you in case you pukes.

Heck, he even made sure that you had fallen asleep first before he would.

you felt safe by hyeon's side.

On the morning of Valentine's day, hyeon was still asleep which was expected, he had waited for you to fall asleep the night before.

You carefully and quietly slipped out of hyeon's tight hold, and headed towards the washroom, you decided to clean hyeon's office then cook a meal for him.

walking toward hyeon's office, you noticed a few paperwork on his table. It seems like it was the paperwork hyeon's had been doing last evening.

His handwriting was exceptionally neat, it had been quite some time you last seen it, but you could remember envying the man for having such a neat writing.

you noticed a half opened file on the floor, you picked it up and read the content of the files out of curiousity

they were mostly a bunch of statistics and numbers, percentages and whatnot. you wanted to stop reading but you felt drawn in his handwriting. To you, it looked familiar, like you've seen it before.

you stared longer at the words until you realized,

realized why he found it familiar.

you flipped to the next page, why did hyeon have your landlord personal informations?

you felt arms hugging you from behind, "what are you doing, snooping around my work like that? what if it's confidential?'

you didnt answer.

"y/n?" hyeon seemed to noticed you tensing up, "sorry, did i scare you that badly? you just seemed so focused on those papers, i just had to-"

"Hyeon."

"Yeah?"

You didnt know what to say, you did not know what to ask. You didnt know how to ask him.

you wish you were just dreaming.

Because.. wasnt hyeon in russia all this time?

"y/n?"

Hyeon couldnt have been in south korea. He couldnt have went into your apartment. He couldnt have place those.. letters abd boxes in your apartment if he wasnt even in the same country as you

ah.

"y/n, are you okay?"

"hyein,, can i take a look at your passport?"

"my passport? why?"

"i just want to.. confirm something."

Hyeon looked at you for a while, before letting go of you "sure, let me go get it."

As he went back to his room, you held ontobthe table tightly to avoid collapsing.

its okay.

you just had to look into his passport, then you would realize how dumb you are to suspect hyeon, the person that sheltered you when you had nowhere to go. the man that's your childhood friend who would sacrifice anything for you-

Hyeon returned, with his passport in hand. "here you go." you were about to take the passport from hum until you saw it

or more like the lack of it.

instead of handing the passport to you normally, hyeon had flipped it to the latest page. Hyeon had supposedly flew to russia first of december last year.

The last time he travelled, according to the passport,

was back in june.

"you were wondering about this, werent you?" hyeon stepped closer towards you, "when did it click?"

"your handwriting you bastard."

"ah right, that was my mistake, but dont you think it took too long for you to notice?"

Hyeon took the papers one by one, putting them together neatly, as if he was having the most normal and mundane conversation.

As if he wasnt the one that sent you all of that letters.

As if he was not the one who broke into your apartment.

As if he didnt sent that severed head and hands to you..

"i guess i should expected that, after all, i'm never the one whom you'll ever have eyes for, am i?" he smiled bitterly.

"Hyeon.." you wanted to be proven wrong, you wanted to be wrong so bad.

you wanted to believe hyeon was not capable of this.

you wanted to believe him, your closest friend, would never do such thing.

instead, you received a hug that felt so cold.

you wanted to strangle hyeon so bad. you wanted to strangle yourself.

you just felt so weak.

as much as you wanted to avoid it, the clues were all right in front of you, mocking you.

there was no one in the world who had heard and appreciated your music, who observed and knew so much of your lifestyle and habits besides ivan.

when the puzzle started coming together, you could feel yourself falling apart.

"so y/n, please tell me:

what is your favourite love language?"

you just want to die.

[draft messages]

y/n:

thanks for taking me in

im glad i hv u in my lufe

you better not tell anyone i said this,

but i dont think theres anyone else i trust

anyone else more than you

thank you.

a/n: zzzzz goodnight (disappears)

[pinkacademiaprincess]

“she’s like a real life elle woods…”

fictional study icons guide, part 2: elle woods

relentlessly chase your goals

similar to rory, elle set her sights on harvard law and let nothing get in her way. people doubted her, she had no background in law, and nevertheless she made it happen. having a goal and wanting something is one thing, but you have to make it happen. elle spoke with an academic counselor, created a plan for herself, and meticulously checked off all the requirements. you can’t just sit around and hope you get what you want! determine the end goal, outline all the steps that you need to take to get there, and get to it.

have faith in yourself

throughout the process of getting into and attending harvard law, elle dealt with so many people who doubted her, were mean, and underestimated her. if she listened to all those people, she never would have applied or stayed in law school. no one knows you like you know yourself, so do not let strangers’ negative opinions of you rule your life. people assumed elle was unintelligent and not fit for law school, but she knew that she could succeed and she did. no one decides what you can or can’t do but you. tune out any criticism that isn’t constructive, focus on your strengths, and seek your goals.

let your personality shine

elle always had a strong sense of self. even when she started going to law school, in a totally new environment from her previous college, she stayed true to her personality. she continued dressing in pink outfits, getting her hair & nails done, and got school supplies to match her girly aesthetic. when you go to class, let your personality show through your outfits, accessories, school supplies - find little ways to bring yourself happiness through self- expression. especially when school and classes might seem to rule your life, these small personal touches will help keep you positive.

study with others

elle used the tactic of studying with others to help stay focused & accountable. when she was studying for the lsat, she had one of her sorority sisters keep her on track & practice with her. for some, it can be helpful to “body double,” or to have someone else with you while you study/ work to keep you on task. it might also help to have a study buddy to quiz you and work through problems together. at harvard she also tries to join a study group, which shows she generally thrives when studying/ working in a group setting. if this is something that works for you, find a classmate or group of classmates willing to meet up & body double or study together!

stay active

nowadays, a lot of schooling requires you to either sit at a laptop or hunch over notes for countless hours of your day. being seated for so long with questionable posture is not good for you, humans are meant to be active! elle is shown walking on a treadmill while she studies, and combining physical activity with schoolwork can be really effective for some. engaging your body while engaging your mind might help you focus better. otherwise, try to get some daily movement to give your body a break from being stiff & seated. find physical activity that you enjoy - going for walks outdoors, taking a sports class, hitting the gym, doing a youtube workout video, playing music & dancing like a maniac - move your body and have fun with it! in the words of elle, “exercise gives you endorphins, endorphins make you happy.”

pet therapy!

elle woods is always accompanied by her beloved chihuahua bruiser. spending time with animals is a great way to boost your mood & relieve stress. if you have a pet, spending time with them, petting them, having them in your lap or nearby are all ways you can take advantage of their presence to feel happier & more relaxed.

that’s all! elle is such an inspiration to me tbh. she really embodies that being true to yourself & being kind to others are the keys to success. good luck in your studies! 🩷

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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[thesuperiorrobin]

❥ Love language

༯ quality time:

Damian has been alone for most of his life.

So he’s such a sucker for spending his free time with you.

Need help with school work? Damian putting his aside and rushes over to help you because he knows the lesson all to well.

Most of the time he’s busy so his time with you is very limited.

Been gone for weeks and the only time he’s free is training in the bat cave? He called you up so you can come over and watch it.

You two walk Titus together. Sometimes in silence or sometimes steering up conversations. It’s one of your guys favorite activities together

Second favorite (if your long in the relationship or are married) is bathing together. Nothing sexual or anything. Just you two together—washing each others hair as a simple gesture.

Loves baking with you. Baking new recipes with the help of Alfred sometimes.

Brushes your hair for you/ washes your hair for you during wash days.

Sometimes you two don’t have to be doing anything

Your presence alone puts him at ease.

༯ physical touch:

Damian’s physical touch comes from the lack that he never got growing up.

He’s also someone’s who isn’t really good at showing emotions but his physical touch makes up for it.

He didn’t understand it at first and thought that it was probably just something you just enjoyed (truth he enjoys it more then you)

He craves for your physical touch.

Please hug him, grab his hand, cuddle him, hold him in your arms. He craves it.

Had a shitty day at work/patrol? Your arms are open as soon as he gets home and doesn’t waste time in getting in your arms. Sleeping away the pissy and sour mood he’s been in

First time you hugged him, he didn’t really understood what was happening.

This feels nice he thinks and doesn’t let go until you do

Only in private, however in public you two are seen holding hands or pinkies

When he does it the feeling last forever.

Feeling down? He’ll rub your back in silence until your feeling a little better then before. A way of telling you that he right there if you need anyone to talk to

Exited about good news? He’s the first one to have his arms open waiting for a hug, Arms securely around your waist/back, swaying the both of you side to side. It’s the same if you’ve been having a shitty day

Overall just loves having you in his arms

Head over heels if it’s the other way around

༯ gift giving:

Damian is very crafty when it comes to art.

It’s also very obvious bc he’s an artsy person and can make stuff with his hands without struggling

He’ll make portraits of you and gives them to you.

Having a piece he made in your room for an anniversary. Still sitting above your bed till this day.

Loves making you paper flowers. Not the kind you make in kindergarten for Mother’s Day but the kind that should be but In a museum

When these flowers die that means my love for you has faded, he says you knowing that the flowers are fake and will never die. It’s cheesy but really cute.

But over time his gift are less self made and more bought later on in the relationship (when you two get married)

He will gift give you expensive jewelry. He has money. And tons of it it won’t effect him at all

Buys you matching sets so you two can match.

Take them. I got them especially designed to fit your taste love. Shame really because they look so good on you that you have to wear them.

Idk there’s just something about you wearing his initials around you finger on a metal ring that makes him go crazy sometimes.

[alwaysshallow]

how you get the girl

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x female reader

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You spend Valentine's Day with your best friend, perfectly oblivious to his feelings to you. (3k)

A/N: an exchange gift for @tokusho!! hope you like it; Kyle is a sweetheart!! a sweetheart that loved you from the very start, it would be proper to say. I wouldn't be myself if I wouldn't include smut in it lmao

People love winter for multiple reasons.

First, school doesn't bug them that much. Sure, there’s always something to do, but it’s calmer around Christmas time and February, when all of the exams are over. Time for yourself, learning new hobbies or expanding current ones. Cute.

It's also the best to spend this time on travelling—around the world or near the area someone lives in. No matter where, it’s good to take a breath and visit your family or friends, too.

Or just to wander around your town, taking in nature and thinking about mundane things, far from the school, far from the boring reality someone is in. When you can just be amazed by the view right in front of you, thinking how small the world really is, how grateful you are to be here.

Secondly, it's a cozy season. You can get lost in watching those silly romcom movies, trying to bake something edible from the various cooking shows that are out here. Wanting to be at least half as good as Gordon Ramsay is, or to serve the best cake in the world. Everyone makes it so effortless, it’s only natural to want to try it too.

Does it work?

Well, based on your own experience, you're certainly better at it, but cinnamon rolls are by far the best thing you can make—mostly because it can't be too sweet. And your main problem? Making things way too sweet. Not because you like it that way, not because you have someone who likes it that way, you just… Well, let's say, you like to skip the amount of things you have to add.

Everything is "on eye" and maybe it works with cooking, but certainly not baking.

All of those reasons could be your reasons why you would like winter. Could—because you have one that is way more important than baking or being alone.

Because this is the season when you see Kyle Garrick after months of being apart. You see his dumb smile whenever you open the door for him, how happy he is to be here. How he literally can’t wait to step into your house and be here for a couple of weeks since that’s how he uses his leave. Couple of days for other friends and catching around. The rest is for you.

Kyle is your friend from high school. Years spent together in the same classes, parties, he was—still is—a dear friend that had your back, and you had his, always, no matter how shitty the situation was.

Inseparable, that’s what you were. Attending the same practices, no matter if it was a football one, art classes or something else; you always were here for a good laugh, especially if you sucked at some activities.

Everyone around always saw you together. There were even a few rumors about you two dating, but it never came down to this, to being together despite years of flirting and a few innocent kisses, there and there. You two didn’t even talk about this, much to your dismay.

Maybe you would, if he didn’t leave for the military. Tough separation, leaving you on ice with no one to help you to get up and get your shit together because life doesn’t only depend on one boy that you’re hopelessly devoted to. Took a couple of months, but you eventually got used to it—being with him for a couple of days or weeks to see him leaving for another couple of months. Weeks.

You sometimes wonder if he has someone out there. Waiting there for him in the military, even if it’s forbidden at some point. Or, maybe he has some medic that always patches him up after the missions, a small smile at her lips, keeping his secrets. Keeping his bed warm, making the whole thing easier because she’s always gonna be around. No matter what.

“—and he’s just a moron.”

But maybe if he did have someone, he wouldn’t spend Valentine’s Day with you.

You look up at him, a confused look on your face, but you manage to give him a smile. He probably talks about the movie that you two are watching; a classic romcom, Love Actually, but you’re not sure. You got too lost in your thoughts to know who he is calling a moron and give it more than a second of your thinking.

He seems to know that. An arch of his eyebrows exposes him, appearing when he always thinks of something a little too much. Military habit, he once explained, but it makes you chuckle every time.

“Who’s a moron?” you ask, deciding not to act dumb—it wouldn’t work in front of him. Not when he knows the pattern of your thoughts, not when you two know each other inside out.

“Him. I would give up on a girl that’s taken, sure, especially if she’s nothing but eye candy. A stupid desire that would end the friendship. But he literally filmed her through the entire wedding,” he mutters, his fingers curling slowly the ends of your hair. He repeats the action several times, even if he talks. You think it’s soothing him in some way. “She had to mean everything for him.”

“It’s about the art of letting go. She was in love with his best friend, it’s… not that simple.” You shrug; for some reason, Kyle barks a laugh at that. Startled, you punch him with your elbow and you take a little distance. “What? You don’t agree? Come on, you wouldn’t do it.”

“Well, ‘m not the one to do it normally, but if I’d be obsessed enough to keep my eyes only on her, I might as well give it a better chance before she gets married,” he huffs. If you didn’t know him like you do, you’d suspect that there's a bitterness somewhere in it, the way he says it. Mad, almost like it’s about him, and a single thought about it makes you sick in your stomach. “Wouldn’t you?”

You gulp. It feels like an interrogation, not a simple talk between two best friends about a romantic comedy that you just watched. There’s a hardness in his tone, demand for answer. “No. I’d put his happiness before mine. If he’s happy, if he has plans that don't involve me in some way, maybe that’s only right. Especially if it’s like this for some time right now.”

It’s not the confession itself, it’s not your feelings with your heart that you put on a silver platter for him to take, but it speaks. It screams, suffocated so many years under the water because you don’t want to ruin anything that’s between you two. Maybe it would be easier in high school, maybe before that prom where he went with Lizzie instead of you, but it didn’t happen.

So, in your mind, it’s something that needs to be buried deep. Six feet underground, where you could meet your feelings from time to time with all the memories that followed it. When you’d eventually move on, but it doesn’t happen.

A small ding in the kitchen rescues you from the fiasco that could happen with this conversation; suddenly, you have to check on your cookies and decorate them, as you always have. Year by year, something sweet; a recompensation for being single so many years in a row.

It doesn’t take much time to have Kyle looming over you like a vulture, curious what you have here. It doesn’t take much time for him to help you; clumsily, but he does a cute job with decorating, even if it’s way too much cream there and there. You have no heart to tell him that, though. And, it doesn’t take him much time to think that’s way too boring for now, so he should do something different.

Something different: dance with you, like he always has. An old song playing from his phone, one hand on your waist, while the other hand travels to make you move. He doesn’t talk (he never does when you two dance, not unless you’re gonna start doing that), he just looks at you. Chocolate brown eyes staring into yours, like they’re trying to see something in yours.

“Boyfriend material,” you could say; and you do, without realizing it at first—Kyle’s smile gives it away.

“I mean, can’t say no to that.” He grins, happy. You, right now, want to kill yourself in some way. “I’m pretty useful in many ways, if I have to say so myself. I mean, just think of how many times you’ve been impressed with me already.” He chuckles, turning you around and around with seemingly no problem. He’s always like this; charming, boyish. Making you fall right into the trap with his eyes, straight up from a fairytale.

He is, in fact, from a fairytale. Too perfect to be real and too perfect to be single, guys like him are always snatched from the public. Kept close the heart because every woman in the world deserves someone like him.

“Your ego could be tempered, though.” You poke his chest (ridiculously hard chest), while he laughs again.

“Always charming. You love my ego,” he points out. You might not agree out loud, but in your mind? Oh, hell yes. Not debatable.

You’d give everything to love him properly. To cherish him, to make him happy when he’s on leave with kisses, gifts, with taking him to your family so he’ll have a scrap of normal life. To wake up beside him in bed, arms sneaked around you with a dose of protectiveness that he always has, even if it’s not the romantic one like you want it to be.

“And you’re thinking way too much, pretty,” he chuckles, leaning over you even more. The size difference between you two is evident and big, encouraging him. Always had, especially when he knows how much of an impact he has like that. “Care to share?”

“Usual shit,” you answer, clearing your throat. Two beats of silence pass, when he sighs and turns you around one more time, pulling you closer to himself. Chest to chest, or—your head to his chest, to be exact. You have to look up at him to see his eyes. “Kyle—”

“—is it about that movie we watched? You love someone that you can’t have?” He shoots a question at you; unexpected, a swift bullet going right through you. Making you tremble, feeling like you’re not in a warm house, but in the busy, cold street in London in your underwear only.

“No, it’s—”

“—Because if so, why didn’t you tell me? I bet there’s a way—”

“—there’s no way, that’s the problem. That’s the problem because you’re funny, handsome and you probably have someone here, way more interesting than me, so I don’t understand why you are here right now. I don’t, I won’t…” You breathe. There’s a lot in you right now, way too much to unload it right now.

“You love me?”

The choice of words, so carefully avoided by you the whole time, dawns on you. Makes an unpleasant feeling in your stomach, the presence of thousands of butterflies informing you that, in fact, you do love him. Always had, even if you denied to use these specific words.

“Since high school.” It’s a quiet confession. Almost shy, but you look him straight in the eye when you say that, taking a step back when he takes a step forward.

“And why you… didn’t tell me sooner?”

“Wanted to. But when you took that girl to the prom, something…” You sigh. Taking a moment because for the first time, you need to be honest about your feelings. “I don’t know, something snapped. I thought it would ruin everything between us, I thought it’s not worth it to say that I want something more when you want someone else. And, after you got around the idea of being in the military—”

He steals the rest of the words with a kiss. Soft, indicating you don’t need to say more than you’ve already said because it’s all he needs to know, actually. It’s the first time he does it completely sober, not driven by alcohol, curiosity or some dare—it’s something that he wants to do, and you can feel it on your lips. The hot feeling of desire, when your hands travel under his t-shirt, where you didn’t have access earlier.

“Took her only because Jake said he’s going with you. I had no idea that he was lying,” he whispers out. Nervous, like he might spill some secret, while you just can’t keep yourself from smiling. “I wanted this,” he points at you and himself after another kiss, “since I’ve fuckin’ left. Got sick thinking of other bloody bastards that could—”

“Thinking too much?” you interrupt him, reminding him of his words from earlier. Words that, right now, seem even more appropriate given the situation between you two and how unimportant the past is.

Garrick huffs with disbelief, amused. “A fucking minx you are, y’know that?”

He doesn’t let you say anything in response, as his teeth clack against yours when he kisses you, hastily, like a man starved. Hands going around your waist just to transfer the two of you to your bedroom, decorated for Valentine's Day, unintentionally.

And maybe it makes sense, when you think of everything he has done for you, when he’s on top of you, placing a map of kisses on your body. Maybe it makes sense how he always brought you something on Valentine’s Day, making you feel special. Always saying that it’s a “commercial event” and nothing else, just a day, even if he always brought you flowers, teddybears and chocolates.

How he always spent it on doing your favorite things. Ice rink, going to a match, movies, it didn’t matter—what mattered was you. How he didn’t deny that you’re a couple when some strangers cooed that you two look absolutely perfect with each other. Only a big smile on his face, arm around you, protectively. Making sure that you’re here with him, not anywhere else.

He always keeps you close, even right now, insisting on holding hands when he fucks you, making you fall in love with the idea. Kyle moves slowly, like he wants to remember every inch of your body for the first time you’re so close with him, but it doesn’t last long. It doesn’t because it takes a couple of your moans and he goes mad crazy about the whole thing.

Between the sudden rough, fast pace of his thrusts, he talks a lot. You don’t get much of it, melted into a puddle of your own thoughts; you wanted it so bad. Fantasized, touched yourself to the thought of him to have him right here, right now, and now he’s rutting into you like a maniac. Spreading you open like it’s not even a challenge for him, which makes it easy to ignore the first pain of his cock in you.

When one of his hands circles around your throat (one hand still holding yours, fingers intertwined, like he insisted on doing), you pay more attention to his words, even if they’re incoherent. Messy, he lets every thought flow out of his mind, no matter if they have end or not, no matter if he said something similar or not. You are the one thing that entangles them, even if his words make you feel more and more weak in your knees. How good you are for him, how he’s not gonna give this pussy to anyone, how much your body will make him lose his shit.

He makes the whole thing way more intimate than it already is, luring you into the endless pleasure with him, when he leaves hickeys on your skin, a mark that he was here. Making you depend on him, intoxicating like a couple of colorful drinks, always making you dizzy, but nonetheless, you always want more, until you’re gonna see stars.

And that’s what you see with Kyle Garrick. It doesn’t even feel real, until your fingernails scratch his bare back and your fingers from the other hand tighten around his. Your legs are weak for him, your whole body is.

You feel it twice as hard when he comes too, babbling the whole time about you being the only woman in his life and marrying you. In a bliss, you only smile, kissing his forehead a couple of times, when he hugs you tight, like he doesn’t want you to leave the bed.

Not like you planned to do it anyway.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs against your shoulder, moving a little; you feel how his cum leaks from you. His softened cock still in you, as Garrick apparently doesn’t feel like pulling it out.

“The best Valentine’s Day,” you correct him with a lazy smile on your face. Content, for the first time in the while.

Garrick nods, slowly. “Yeah. Ended up in having sex, so—”

“—you’re the worst,” you laugh, shaking your head. Kyle seems almost scared for a moment, but when he sees that you’re genuinely laughing, he breathes out. “Only because of that? Not because your best friend basically confessed her feelings to you?”

“That too. Obvious option.” He grins, while you smack him with amusement. Kyle bites your shoulder, leaving another mark, while his other hand ruffles your hair.

You groan. “You’re gonna explain it tomorrow to my parents. All those hickeys and bites, young man.”

“You think they’re gonna be mad? Gonna tell them we’re together and they will ask about children,” he laughs; and he’s completely right about it, though. Your parents were cheering for you two from the start, they probably still do. “Anyway, we should order something. I don’t feel like cooking when I have you in bed.”

You huff, amused. “Romantic.”

“Very,” he snides, pulling you closer. His hand travels south, fingers circling near your clit. “Delivery will take some time, so we have to… make use of the time. You tired yet?”

“No, but—”

“—Fantastic.”