#less bc I’m nervous and more bc I just can’t be bothered

[rubysparx]

See my problem is like . I wanna have side blogs and post to them frequently, especially a lot of reblogs I wanna spread around the art I like. But I also love having something to say abt the art. I gotta tag it with something silly or niceys bc as an artist myself that’s like. The only reason I ever post my shit publicly. Is for the funny little comments :3 if you ever put a funny little comment or nice thing on smthn I made, I have that shit saved in a document, I’m serious.

But anyway. If I don’t have anything to say in the moment the post just sits in my drafts, and I really don’t wanna just have my organizational tag on that shit, that’s so lame. And you know maybe I shouldn’t be saying anything maybe these other artists don’t wanna hear shit from me ! Idk man that’s just my mentality. I feel like I’ve gotta leave a little comment ok??

And then I have the issue of the post being in drafts for months, when I finally post it if it’s a reblog it seems like it came outta nowhere. reblogger gotta be getting that notif like “I posted that four months ago, what?” or whatever.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "holding out" ⎯୧ (mjh)

+*:🍰:*﹤descrip. : jh just wants to do better for you :( or response to this ask!!!!

+*:❤️:*﹤content : sub!jaehyun bc who would i be if this wasn't sub!jaehyun x fem!reader

+*:🍓:*﹤warnings : reader is kinda dominant but i never know if it's enough for me to tag, smut, 18+ mdni, edging AGAIN, masturbation, kinda exhibitionism/voyeurism again 🤭, nipple touching, petnames sweetheart/sweetie/good boy/baby boy, female anatomy for reader, mentions of piv sex, endurance training methinks...mehopes

+*:🩷:*﹤word count : 3.2K

+*:🍰:*﹤masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *

Jaehyun’s been acting weird, and that’s saying something, because he’s always been a bit strange. 

But it’s obvious he hasn’t been his usual self for the past week. When you ask him about it, he brushes it off quickly and changes the subject. 

Then, whatever’s bothering him begins affecting your sex life. He's tense, visibly nervous before you guys do anything intimate. You can tell he's close when his high-pitched moans turn into quiet, choked off gasps. You know the signs, and you’re more than ready to feel his hot seed fill you up the way you like, but it never does. You see his face scrunch up in torment right before he hides in your neck. He continues to let out a string of pitiful whimpers, hips still thrusting sloppily until you're showing signs of orgasming yourself. This goes on for days before you notice a pattern. 

You guys get intimate, and for a little while afterward, he gets quieter, more reserved, almost…ashamed? He can’t even seem to look at you, and is quick to scoot away when you sit too close to him. It kind of hurts, but you give him time and space, figuring he’ll come to you if  he’s ever ready to talk. He never brings it up, but after a couple of hours, he’s back to the Jaehyun you know–a bit strange, proposing unusual schemes and so hyper he’s basically bouncing off the walls.

The two of you often fall into intimate moments after bantering, sometimes even play fighting, and tonight’s no different. Jaehyun’s his usual mischievous self, teasing you enough that it’s harmless, but gets under your skin. When tension arises and things get heated, you guys make eye contact, and he kind of just…deflates, moving from where he’s hovering over you to slump back against the couch.

You hesitate, because you don’t want to put him on the spot, but his behavior is beginning to make you concerned, and a little insecure. After a few moments, it’s obvious Jaehyun’s not going to say anything, so you speak up.

"Sweetie, we should talk." 

Immediately, he tenses. He sits up, and his shoulders are so stiff it looks uncomfortable. His only noticeable movement is the fiddling with his fingers, wringing them as if he wants to crack his knuckles, but they’re not popping. You keep a safe distance between the two of you, but sit close enough that you can rest a comforting hand on his thigh.

His eyes are glossy, and his lip is caught in between his teeth when he finally looks at you. He looks like a kicked puppy, and you immediately want to scoop him in your arms and make him feel better. But, time and space.

"Oh, baby. Will you tell me what's bothering you?" 

His lips move, but almost no sound comes out. His cheeks visibly redden when you ask him to repeat himself.

"Do you think I...finish too fast?" He asks, mumbling 'finish' shyly like it's dirty. You stare at him in confusion, rolling his words around in your head, trying to get them to make sense. Since when is him cumming quickly an issue?

"Sorry, was that too abrupt? Just forget I-"

"No, you're fine, Jae. I was just a little surprised." You look away from him for a moment to think about your next words carefully. "There's nothing wrong with being sensitive."

Again, Jaehyun deflates back into the couch, hands coming to hide his face.

“That’s probably the worst thing you could've said. Seriously, ‘yes’ would’ve been less embarrassing.” He says, his words muffled by his palms.

“I’m sorry, I just mean–” You pause. “Even if you finish quickly, what’s wrong with that?”

“Well, doesn’t it leave you…unsatisfied?” This time, he whispers ‘unsatisfied’ cautiously, and pre-winces like he’s waiting for the scariest answer possible.

Almost immediately, you laugh, which sounds more like an amused scoff. Just the thought of Jaehyun leaving you high and dry is a bit silly–he’s a wonderful partner. Even if he finishes quickly, he’s damn near always hard, and rarely fails to make you cum.

But, unfortunately, you don’t say that, so your laughter is your only response. Jaehyun looks at you with his jaw hanging down and his eyes wide like he’s mortified.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He half-whines, running his hands through his hair in distress. Instinctively, your hands come up to fix the mess, taming wild strands back into place so he looks less like a wet cat. 

“No– Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, it’s just.” You stammer your words out, trying to clean up the way you’re royally fucking this up. “Jaehyun, you’ve never left me unsatisfied. You don’t even have to worry about that, okay?” You grab one of his hands and squeeze it lightly, trying to punctuate your statement. He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push back, and instead reciprocates the hand-holding.

“But still, it kinda makes me feel bad. Humiliated, I guess? We barely get started and I feel like I’m already creaming my pants.”

The statement almost makes you giggle again, but you hold it back because that’s not at all helpful. Personally, you love Jaehyun's sensitivity, the way he gets tender and desperate from a hand tracing his thigh, the way he's on the precipice after a little petting. It's cute, he's cute, but you don't know how to tell him this in a way that will stick, so you change courses.

“Okay, this is a serious issue. What do you want to do about it?”

He looks at you bashfully, lips parted like he has something to say but isn’t sure how. Interesting, he’s thought about this before.

“Come on, Myungjae. It’s just me. There’s no need to feel shy.” You shimmy your shoulders a little, drawing his attention to where your boobs are sitting braless in your shirt, and they jiggle the tiniest amount. It’s not a shallow movement–Jaehyun’s easy to rile up, and you can tell he’s already tenting in his shorts. If he’s aroused, he’ll be much more comfortable talking about this, you hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Okay, what’s this called, again?” You ask just to be sure, getting comfortable laying near Jaehyun’s chest. You two decided to do this in the bedroom, where Jaehyun might be most comfortable, since this is new territory. He’s slumped against the pillows and headboard, looking down at you with a look of uncertainty and a bead of sweat already forming on his temple. 

“Endurance training.” He says shakily, voice trembling around the words. “I’m gonna do something similar to edging myself, and hopefully with time, I’ll be able to last longer– or maybe I’ll have better stamina, or something.” His uncertainty makes you a bit nervous. It’s not like you two haven’t explored edging before, but you typically do it to each other, not watch one another do it to themselves. 

“And you’re positive you wanna do this?” You cup his cheeks, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you. He hesitates for a second, then there's a sense of determination in his eyes. They’re dark and determined when they meet your own. 

“I want to do this.” He says resolutely, nodding his head as much as he can in your grip. You release his face to let him get comfortable, and he has you set a five minute timer on your phone. Your job is fairly simple–tell him to stop when five minutes are up until (hopefully) he’s done it for twenty minutes. 

“Okay, but why can’t I do it for you?” You ask, trying to push away the urge to pout. You love feeling him tremble under your own hands, watching him fall apart from your touch.

“It’s better if I do it myself today. I t-think I might nut immediately if you touch me.” You’re a little disappointed, but you’re also intrigued about watching him touch himself, and this is important to him, so you want to be supportive. Besides, he didn’t say you can’t spur him on.

Jaehyun shimmies his shorts off and throws them somewhere on the floor, and you’re immediately distracted by the sight of his dick. It’s so cute and plump, and you stave off the need to put your mouth on it. You exchange “readies,” and Jaehyun wraps a hand around his member. You watch as he jerks at the feeling. He takes a deep breath, and when he nods, you start the timer. 

He’s just building up a steady rhythm when the timer reads 10 seconds, after successfully overcoming his shyness and giving into the pleasure when he sees that you’re not judging him.

And boy, are you not judging him. 

Looking at Jaehyun from across a crowded room is usually enough to get you hot at your core, but this need was something new entirely. You watch the way his head mushrooms on upward strokes, and almost feel dizzy at the sight of him running his thumb across the tip expertly. Of course Jaehyun knows how to work his own body, but damn. It’s so effortless you almost feel like you're interrupting. 

He doesn’t notice the way you rub your thighs together to keep the feeling of insanity at bay. He’s too lost in his own pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as he spreads his precum down his penis, and you might actually be drooling.

He’s shaking like a leaf by the time ten minutes pass, huffing a frustrated breath and laying his head back against the pillows. He moans softly when you place a quick kiss on his neck. 

“What’s the matter, Hyunie?” You say with a mischievous smile. He’s taking a small break from touching himself, so you rub little circles into his hip bones.

“God, I–” He stops to swallow, mouth dry from gasping and moaning. “Dunno how m-much longer I c-can do this.”

“But you’re halfway there, baby boy. You can do it.” You encourage, running a hand through his ruffled hair. He doesn’t share that belief, it’s obvious in his eyes, but he wraps his hand around his member again. 

“There you go.” You commend. He doesn’t say anything about you touching him, so you keep doing it, bringing a hand up to lightly squeeze his pec. “Is this okay?” 

He nods a little, whimpers a little in what you assume is permission, because he whines petulantly when you pull your hand away. 

After a few minutes, he’s breathing hard, and bucking his hips to meet his hand halfway. The timer reads 1 minute and 03 seconds left.

“Fuck, I-I can–, can’t-” He babbles incoherently, thighs shaking where they lift in the air and fall back on the mattress rhythmically. He throws his head back again, neck on full display for you to make use of. You take the bait, latching onto his skin and sucking red, angry marks into it. You pull away to read the timer again, 21 seconds left. When you suck another mark into his neck, Jaehyun gasps out.

“Y/N, Y/N, please, -m s’close– ah-h–” While you’re admiring his fucked-out state, your phone beeps next to you. You turn it off and look back at Jaehyun. You’re surprised to see that he’s already looking at you, eyes big and glossy as he humps his hand. 

“Time’s up, Jae.” You say. He whines.

“Jaehyun, stop.” He makes a little sound that you’re not sure what to call, something high-pitched and desperate as his hips stutter.

“Hyunie, do I have permission to touch you?” He nods quickly, desperately, likely under the impression that you’re gonna help him cum. The distressed whine he lets out when you pull his hand away from his cock is visceral, like he doesn’t have control over making it. 

He gasps for air greedily as he teeters from the edge. One of his hands clenches the duvet underneath him, and the other clasps your thigh instead, grip unforgiving. You’re so turned on you don’t even notice the pain, occupied by taking in his flushed face and messy hair. You connect your lips with his in what was meant to be a quick kiss, but he deepens it, the hand on the comforter coming to cup your cheek instead.

“Almost lost yourself for a second there, huh?” You tease after pulling away, whispering in the small space between you guys’ parted lips.

“Thi s-is s-so hard.” He mumbles, words trailing off into a whine, sloppy and slurring together. 

“But it’s been fifteen minutes, sweetheart. Just five more and you can cum.” 

Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut in displeasure as he comprehends your words, and part of you wants to give in and let him have it. You know how badly he wants to succeed, and he’s already worked so hard. This was his idea, anyway.

But the other, seemingly sadistic part of you wants to watch as he pushes himself to agonizing pleasure. Desperate Jaehyun is one of your favorite sights–the way cute little tears roll down his cheeks and his body basically vibrates with a need only you can fulfill. It’s beautiful, to say the least, and the power goes straight to your cunt, getting you all hot and needy yourself. You clench around nothing at the mere thought of it, so you press “Start” on the timer again and help wrap Jaehyun’s hand back around his dick.

For a minute, Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. His eyes roll back at the stimulation, and he fucks up into his hand dumbly. Then, you lick a fat stripe up his nipple. 

"S-shit, fuck, n-needa cum- hahh, please, it hurts-" He whines in your hold, unoccupied hand trembling where it’s still laying on your thigh.

"Aw, don't you wanna last, sweet thing? You’re so close." 

"I-I- hn- don't w-wanna d-do this anym-more.” He stutters out, struggling to string the sentence together through the fog in his head and the pleasure coursing through his lower body. You halt the stimulation on his nipple at his words.

"What's your color, Hyunie?"

"G-green, green, fuck, I just wanna cum." He says immediately, tears building up in his lash line and finally rolling down his cheeks. His hand wavers, then picks up speed again. 

You pretend to contemplate while trailing a finger along his shaft and pulling away when he chases the feeling. "You want me to give you permission? Tell you to reach that overwhelming pleasure, make a mess all over yourself?" 

Jaehyun nods, of course, but you’re not even sure he’s comprehending what you’re saying right now. His eyes are almost fully black with the way they’re dilated, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t just confirmed his color.

"But I don't think you deserve it, sweetheart.” You lie. Of course he deserves it, but he’s so fun to play with. “It hasn't even been twenty minutes and you're already falling apart. Maybe I should get a ring for your little cock, watch as you desperately work yourself through dry orgasms." His hips stutter at your degrading words, hand aggressive as it strokes his poor, throbbing dick. The need to have it in your cunt has never been as strong as it is now.

"N-noplea- f-fuck, I��ms'rry-" 

Over Jaehyun's slurred babbles, you almost don’t hear the timer go off. At the realization that it's been twenty minutes, you smile proudly and turn the alarm off. 

You shh Jaehyun's whimpers and hiccups and bite another mark on his pec. You replace his hand with yours and thumb at his tip, then watch as he falls apart for you.

"Hng- gonna cum- cumming, pleas-"

"You're so good, Hyunie. You did it. Cum for me." Jaehyun looks at you almost in disbelief before his head falls back against the pillows and he's cumming so hard some of it lands on your shirt.

"You did it, Myungjae. Did such a good job for me." You congratulate again while peppering kisses on his face.

"Did it." He mumbles breathlessly with a lopsided smile and droopy eyes.

"Mhm, you deserve a reward, don't you think?"

"Uh-h." He mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looks so tired, but you’ve been with him long enough to know he could give you two more orgasms at least. You lift up to straddle his legs and rub up and down his thighs gently. 

"I don't mind your sensitivity, Hyunie. Can I show you why?" He nods silently again, eyes glossy and dazed. He’s breathing harshly through his nose, but looks like he’s in overall good shape, so you take his dick in your hand again and begin slowly pumping it.

"U-unh- too m-much-" He whimpers out, brows furrowed in euphoric torture. His hips twitch like he doesn't know if he should buck into the feeling or pull away from it. Despite his moans in protest, he’s already filling up in your hand, ready to be played with again.

"See how you're already hard again, Jae? All for me?" His mouth hangs open, but no words come out. Instead, he grunts loudly when your pace increases. 

"I just wanna make you feel good." You squeeze his member lightly then tease at the slit. His head falls back again, and his back arches slightly, but he's still staring at you, eyes full of wonder and hanging onto every word you say.

"It doesn't matter if you cum quickly, ‘cause you can just do it again for me, isn't that right?" You twist your wrist just right, and he's shuddering through another orgasm, a pained, high-pitched whine coming from the back of his throat.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"T-thank you." he mutters, eyes struggling to stay open, boneless on top of the mattress. His words are still dragging, but they’re much more comprehensible. "-m sorry for making a big deal out of this. It all seems so silly now."

"If it matters to you, it matters to me, sweetheart." You reply, rubbing knots out of his shoulder from where you’re still straddling his legs. You’re still unbearably horny, and you’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your underwear and your shorts by now.

"Still..." He trails off, eyes following you as you stand up from the bed and strip off your clothing. You see the way he gulps, the way his eyes helplessly flit between your boobs and your cunt, but you don’t say anything–you figure he’s had enough teasing for one day.

You straddle him again with a mischievous smile on your face.

"Let me ride you and I'll let you off the hook?"

✧･ﾟ: *

a/n : i'm actually kind of in love w this story and maybe it’s because i pulled an allnighter to write it and my brain cells aren’t all the way here, if you read this and something doesn’t make sense PLEASE tell me 😭 guys do nawt have me out here looking like a fool </3 i tried to make it different from the taesan one, it was supposed to be a drabble but please don’t ask me how it became literally 3k i DO NOT KNOW….that sleep deprivation boost ig, lastly, i tried to research if there were any discernible differences between edging and endurance training but i couldn’t find anything super helpful so im so sorry if this isn’t a good representation of endurance training </33 berry just a blogger tryin their best

special thanks to @zynz0 and this fic which made me literally insane. while writing this, i couldn't find the phrase for what jaehyun is (maybe) doing here other than self-edging, but that post helped me a lot!!!

now i will FINALLY SLEEEEEP RAHHHH i literally finished this at 9am

[zwhoreo]

thoughts on headcanons on how luffy would be with a shy gf / trying to bring the girl he likes out of her shell / not be nervous around him???? i like to envision him being the initiator sometimes simply bc i myself am so ridiculously reserved… the idea of him and his partner balancing each other out / teaching each other to be more outgoing and free spirited vs less rambunctious and reckless…. it makes me v happy ALSO i hope its ok to send another ask so soon, i love ur work !!! @ v @ ;;; no rush or pressure to answer !! :’’>

hana!!! tysm for all the support, i rly appreciate it, I’m so glad you like my writing :’) you can send as many asks as you want!! i’m pretty busy with work/school prep rn so requests are taking me some time, but yess please never hesitate to submit one if you have an idea <333

coming out of your shell - luffy x f!reader headcanons

fluff

summary in request, how your dynamic might work with luffy if you’re a bit more reserved, how he helps you come out of your shell, and the kind of balance you two give each other in your relationship

words: ~750

________________________

You love Luffy an indescribable amount, and somehow he loves you back tenfold.

This boy loves you so much that he rarely wants to be without you, sticking to you always, pulling you along with him everywhere, talking loudly in your face because he’s excited by the closeness

you’re intimidated by that love so much, you were a bit shy and didn’t know what to say

But god, there’s something about him that just changes you, makes you feel fuzzy on the inside. He calms you. You become comfortable around him so fast, eager to be in his arms

But sometimes it’s too much, his loudness. You’re trying to relax, have a break from the outside world, but here’s Luffy wriggling on top of you, so full of an energy you can’t believe, it’s all too endless.

“Hi, Lu…” you murmur softly in his mouth as he kisses you for the hundredth time.

At first it was hard, he’s so unlike you, he’s unlike anyone, really, that you’d ever met

You hadn’t imagined yourself ending up with this kind of intense extrovert

But Luffy knows you like quiet sometimes, and when you’re feeling tired and want some time to yourself, but if he really wants to hang out, you can say, “hey Lu, wanna take a nap?”

He’ll be so excited to come cuddle on top of you while you read or look out the window, going to sleep quickly, letting you soak in the comforting warmth of his body in stillness

Luffy is attached to you. If he goes somewhere, more often than not you’re along for the ride.

He squeezes your hand, his own so sweaty with excitement, running and dragging you along with him, wanting so badly for you to be as excited as he is.

He talks to people on the street, bouncing on his feet, voice loud and overflowing. You cringe at his boldness, many times, you can’t imagine acting like that.

But he’ll motion you over, and gush about how his new friend HAS to meet his beautiful and perfect and fun girlfriend, he’ll hug you and he’ll want you to talk to his friend and when your voice is small he pats your back and pulls you a little closer, he wants you to make lots of friends, just like he does, because it makes him happy and he wants you to be happy, too

And when you start to conversate, when your smile comes, he grins so proudly and afterwards he’ll reward you with a big, sloppy kiss

Because even though the concept of shyness greatly confuses him, he knows these types of things are big for you

When he wants you to speak, he’ll look at you, turning his head over his shoulder and making a small, giddy sound.

He’ll squeeze your hand which of course he’s still holding, he wants to remind you that you’re safe

But you can balance him out, too. If he comes up to someone who you know doesn’t want to talk, if he’s bothering them and it’s clear on their face but Luffy doesn’t know, then you’ll gently pull him away into a hug and whisper, “hey, looks like they don’t want to talk right now…”

He’ll be a little disappointed but you’ve helped him understand stuff like this

Luffy LOVES adventures

He wants to take you on all of them, even when you’re scared or anxious

There’s that hand holding again, or maybe he’ll link his arm tightly with yours, knowing that the closeness of his body will make you feel safer, bolder

It does help, he’s infectious, invigorating. He’s inspiring in the way he charges ahead, and you want to feel so free like he seems to, always

So you try to be like him, going out of your comfort zone, finding joy in the things you fear

When you’re scared, he’ll hold you. He’ll lift you onto his back or press you close against his chest

And when it’s too dangerous, when your anxiety is right, you can hold his arm, tell him to please just stay with you, and he’s learned (probably the hard way) that sometimes you can be right about these things, you can see what he won’t

It’s a perfect balance, you and Luffy. An unlikely pair, two polar opposites, and yet you share so much, you fit so well. He loves you for that, and he’s going to help you, always

[heich0e]

the heart is but a winding road p.3 - shouto todoroki/f!reader (2k) pro-hero shouto, approx late 20s early 30s-ish, this is a begrudging father figure fic bc i can, fluff, someone pls give takahashi a raise

p.1 - p.2 - YOU ARE HERE - p.4 (upcoming)

It’s still raining.

The gloomy weather doesn’t necessarily bother Shouto, it just… is. There’s not really much point in sulking over something unchangeable, so he doesn’t—even if he does grumble a bit as he towels off wet his hair after his patrol for the nth day in a row, trudging from the locker room at his agency up towards his office.

Takahashi meets him as the lift doors open onto his floor, bowing in greeting.

“Welcome back, Shouto-sama.”

“Hello,” Shouto greets his secretary, letting his towel rest looped around his neck. “It’s late, why are you still here?”

“I have some paperwork to hand off, and felt compelled to stay until you reported back for the day.” The two men begin making their way down the corridor towards Shouto’s private office, falling easily into step with one another after so many years. “Besides, there is another matter…”

Shouto pauses in the archway leading towards his personal office space. Takahashi’s desk sits just outside his office door, neatly organized as it usually is. There are a few plants in the tiny vestibule—though Shouto’s uncertain as to who actually put them there or tends to them—and a small seating area along one wall for anyone waiting for meetings with the pro-hero, even if he rarely schedules them.

Unusually, there’s someone sitting in those generally unoccupied chairs today.

A woman.

“She’s been here for most of the afternoon,” Takahashi says, keeping his words low and inconspicuous, spoken just on the edge of his breath. “She insisted that she’d wait to see you.”

Shouto blinks.

The visitor has spotted the two men now, and peers at them almost in surprise from across the room—like she scarcely expected to see the two of them at all, though she’s the interloper in this particular place. Shouto’s eyes flicker down to the small box held carefully on her lap, and the umbrella leaning up against her chair.

Oh.

You.

“Shall I ask her to return another day?” Takahashi quietly asks the man at his side, looking between his employer and the unexpected visitor in turn.

“No,” Shouto says, having emerged from his momentary stupor of surprise. He takes a step in your direction. “This is fine.”

You stand as the Pro Hero approaches, and he can’t help but notice you seem a little nervous.

“Hello, Shouto-san,” you say, bowing politely as he nears. “I’m sorry to turn up unexpectedly.”

“It’s no problem,” Shoto says, “Takah—my secretary informed me you’ve been waiting quite a while.”

You make a sheepish little expression. “I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to return, and it was important to me to see you in person.”

“I see,” Shouto nods, glancing once more at the box you’re clutching tightly in your hands. 

It’s quiet—ungracefully so—for a moment. Across the room, Takahashi clears his throat lightly.

Shouto lifts his hand, pointing a bit too briskly towards his office door for the gesture be considered elegant or well-practiced. “Would you like to speak inside?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” you nod. “I really do apologize, I know you just got back from patrol. I don’t mean to take up much of your time.”

Shouto steps towards the door to his office, holding it open for you to enter before him. You hesitate once you’ve crossed the threshold, uncertain what to do next. In the doorway, Shouto similarly hesitates—carefully contemplating whether to leave the door open or closed.

He doesn’t often welcome people into his office, and among the few he does, they’re certainly not civilians and even less frequently are they strangers. His office is fairly sparsely decorated, because he’s never really felt the need to decorate, but Takahashi keeps it tidy while he goes out on patrol. Shouto used to insist to the secretary that he didn’t need to do it, but he’s grown to appreciate the straightening up—and file alphabetizing—and has learned to accept it without complaint.

He's never had reason to be insecure about the austere nature of his workspace, but he's exceedingly conscious of it now that he doesn't even have a seat to offer you.

You suck in a breath before him, as though gathering your nerve, and Shouto’s eyes flicker over to you.

“I came to say thank you,” you tell him, and Shouto is taken aback by your air of sincerity. “For the gifts.”

He clears his throat, looking away from your overly earnest gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he says. ”Did your son like them?” 

“Are you kidding?” you blink, your expression startled like you can’t believe he’d even ask. “Nao loved them. He was so excited the first night he hardly slept, and he insisted on bringing all of them into bed with him—there was barely enough room for him to squeeze in.”

Shouto feels a certain peculiar sense of satisfaction hearing that.

Takahashi really had outdone himself in securing a variety of Recycling Hero merchandise for Shouto to have sent to you and Naoyuki. Frankly, Shouto wasn’t even aware that there was a Pro Hero with such an extensive array of branded goods—besides possibly All Might, and more recently Dynamight (though the majority of those products were unlicensed and manufactured by fans.) There were all the usual items—like keychains, figurines, clothing and other wearable accessories—but Reductro has recently branched out in a variety of ventures, like lunch boxes, reusable water bottles, and even adhesive bandages that are all made of organic compounds and can biodegrade. All of his merchandise is made of sustainable, organic materials, in the spirit of his environmentally conscious ethos.

Your eyes land on a rather large pile of packages next to Shouto’s desk, and your gaze traces them in relative alarm.

Ah. 

He’d forgotten about those.

“Um, are those for…” you trail off, your attention flittering over to him nervously.

“Oh, no,” Shouto replies. “Those belong to me.”

The pile of Reductro merchandise beside his desk is comprised of duplicates of what he’d had Takahashi secure to send to Naoyuki. When his secretary had sent him a list of items for him to choose from, he simply told him to purchase two of each: one for the boy, and one for himself.

You look at him a bit strangely then, though Shouto’s not entirely sure why.

“You’re a fan of Reductro?” you ask him.

Shouto nods. “I wasn’t overly familiar with him, but recently have become quite interested in his work.” 

He surveys the pile of packages beside his desk, and then his eyes flicker back to the box in your hands.

“It was largely thanks to your son.”

You laugh then—a bright, happy sound. Shouto wasn’t expecting it, so he startles slightly, his eyes snapping up to your smiling face. 

“Nao would be really happy to hear that, you know,” you say to him.

Shouto stares at you for a moment, until eventually you look away.

“We made these for you,” you say next, holding out the little box in your hands. “Nao and I.”

Shouto reaches out and takes the offering from you, though he’s hesitant. 

You would have had to pass security before entering the building, and he’s fairly confident you don’t seem the type to do him harm, but he’s still a bit wary as he lifts the lid of the container and peers inside.

“They’re cookies,” you tell him, a bit shy. “We weren’t sure how to say thank you, and they were Nao’s idea…”

Shouto isn’t sure what to say.

His experience tells him he shouldn’t accept the gift. Poisoning is a real threat for public figures, especially Pro Heroes. Even if the gift had passed security, they wouldn’t have been able to test for illicit ingredients or toxins, and sending them downstairs for testing would likely be troublesome—assuming that the research and development department of his agency even has the tools required to screen them.

But he can’t remember anyone making cookies for him before.

“It’s a recipe from Reductro’s cookbook, in case you’re wondering why they’re green—“ you step forward to explain, pointing down towards the little box of baked goods that Shouto is still blankly staring into.

His head pops up.

“There’s a cookbook?” 

You laugh, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, and then you cough lightly as you look away. After a moment you peek back at him, nodding. 

“A few months ago, when we first got it, Nao refused to eat anything that didn’t come from it,” you say, smiling a little as though you’re reflecting fondly on the memory. “I’ve never seen a kid so excited to eat leafy greens.”

In his mind, Shouto makes a note to have Takahashi look into this as soon as possible.

“Well,” you say, clasping your hands together in front of your coat. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, and all the kind gifts you sent to Nao.”

Shouto shakes his head lightly. “Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll leave first,” you say, dipping in a bow. “Thank you very much for the work you do, Shouto-san.”

You step towards the office door—left ajar since Shouto never did decide whether he should leave it opened or closed.

“Um—“

You pause when you hear Shouto speak again, turning back towards him from the doorway.

“Please tell Naoyuki-kun that I’m grateful to him,” Shouto says, his brow furrowed like he’s deep in thought. “For introducing me to Reductro’s work.”

You smile softly. “I'll let him know.”

“And also for the cookies,” Shouto adds after another moment of thought.

“I'll tell him that too.”

Shouto nods, satisfied he’s said all he needs to say. 

“Goodnight, Shouto-san.” You dip your head in a final bow of parting, and then you slip out through the door.

Shouto stands in the centre of his office for a while after you depart, the box of cookies still open in his hands.

He plucks one out, surveying it closely on all sides—and then sniffing it for good measure. He glances towards the door with the cookie held to his lips, half expecting Takahashi to appear and chastise him. When he’s confident the secretary is not lurking just out of view, he takes a bite.

It’s… strange.

It certainly has the consistency of what Shouto would consider a cookie, but it’s not quite as sweet as he was expecting. He contemplates this thoughtfully as he chews. There’s also a distinctly vegetal flavour that lingers once he swallows the mouthful down, but he can’t say with any certainty what ingredient might be imparting that particular taste.

He appraises the cookie in his grip, missing one semi-circular bite mark. 

He likes it.

He pops the rest of the baked good into his mouth, shuffling towards his office door.

“Akahahi-han—“ he calls as he pokes his head out into the vestibule, and his secretary turns in his seat towards the sound of his name—or what was supposed to be his name, but was garbled thanks to the food in Shouto's mouth. He quickly swallows down his mouthful. “Where’s the nearest bookstore to here?” 

Takahashi turns to his computer, tapping away at his keyboard for a moment. 

“Six block northeast—located in the shopping centre where you apprehended the pickpocket with the adhesive-type quirk two weeks ago,” Takahashi relays his search results faithfully from his screen. 

Shouto nods, dipping back into his office.

He reappears a moment later with his jacket on, a baseball cap in his hand, and his little box of green cookies tucked safely under his arm. 

“I’m leaving first,” Shouto calls as he passes his secretary’s desk.

“Shouto-sama, is there something you require at the bookstore?” Takahashi rises swiftly from his seat and pursues the young Pro Hero towards the elevators. The two men stop and wait for the elevator to arrive once Shouto pushes the down arrow. “I’d be happy to retrieve it on your behalf.”

The doors slide open and Shouto steps in, pulling his baseball cap on over his head.

“There’s no need, you can head home for the day,”—the elevator dings as the doors begin to slide closed, Takahashi’s usually placid expression markedly perplexed at his employer’s peculiar behaviour—“I just need to pick up something for dinner."

[babygirldabi]

Runaway Part 3

CW: This part is NOT smut, sorry to all my lovely horndogs, but I needed to throw some plot in there at some point, murder, guns, weapons in general, some sexual harrassment, a little teeny tiny bit of fluff, I think that's it. Fair warning I didn't do a ton of editing bc this took a lot of brain space THAT I DO NOT HAVE THIS WEEK, Definitely working on a Part 4 and probably 5 because I know where I wanna go with this now. As always, thanks for reading.

Remember that I will tag you if you want to be notified about new chapters!

Tags: @kierewrites (because you left SUCH A NICE COMMENT LAST TIME), @blahblahblahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Part 3

As you wake up, Dabi sits on the edge of the bed and goes over the plan with you.

It’s a simple transport; the Doctor needs the League to pick up some mysterious package and deliver it to his own personal Headquarters; something about strengthening the League’s Nomus. Dabi doesn’t share the details, and you don’t ask. The less you know the better. 

 “We have two vehicles, Spinner is gonna drive us, Toga, Twice and Compress will serve as the distraction in the other car, and you and I are going to handle the actual delivery.” He smiles as your eyes widen at this bit of information. 

“That’s- uh, kind of a really big test for a first mission, isn’t it?” You stutter, feeling overwhelmed. Dabi watches you squirm and smiles wider. 

“You and I have strong Quirks. If it comes down to fighting, Shig wants the strongest ones around the actual package to protect it." He doesn't mention that he specifically asked Shig to let him work with you directly. "You’ll be fine.”

"Why are we doing this during the day?" You inquire. "Isn't nighttime easier?"

"During the day there's more traffic. It's easier to blend in, follow the daily commute," Dabi explains. "We're less likely to get noticed if we're just part of the crowd." You nod. It makes sense.

“Is Shigaraki coming?” You turn and rifle through the clothes that Toga has lent you, trying to find something nondescript, forgettable. 

“No. We don’t want him near this one in case something goes wrong.” He doesn’t sound concerned. “Wear the black jeans and the black tank top,” Dabi orders, rising from the bed to glance down at the stack with you. “Nothing flashy.”

“Of course,” you murmur, picking up the specific items and turning towards the bed to dress. 

“You’ll have a hat and a mask, too, to hide your face. We don’t want anyone recognizing the latest ex-Hero hanging out with the League.” Dabi turns towards the door. “meet me at the bar when you’re ready. I’m gonna go check in with the others.” He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer, just leaves.

You scowl as you dress. For all his attentions last night, Dabi is back to being cold. He’s also being helpful, you muse, but it’s not the same. Last night you were the remedy for his nightmares, the distraction that grounded him. Today, you’re just the new hire. You finish pulling on the clothes and check your reflection in the mirror. You look like any regular civilian; forgettable, vague. Exactly what I want to be. You scowl at your reflection, then turn on your heel and head towards the main room. 

 Dabi is leaning against the bar, head leaned close to Spinner’s as they trace the route on a large map and mutter together. Toga skips over to take your hand, beaming. “Happy first mission!” She crows, practically dancing with excitement. “How do you feel?”

You can’t help but smile at her as she swings your hands gently together. “I'm fine. A little nervous,” you admit, and in your peripheral you see Dabi’s blue eyes flash up to your face before settling down to the map again. 

 “Don’t be nervous, this is routine,” Twice advises, before his left eye starts promptly twitching. “We’re so screwed!”

“Ignore him. He’s jumpy before missions," Toga giggles, then releases your hand to go stand by Dabi’s shoulder. “Compress is getting the car. We should be ready in a couple minutes.”

“Alright. Rookie’s with me and Spinner. Toga, you, Twice and Compress will be driving the distraction vehicle. Stay close to us and don’t fall behind until it's time to split off. Everybody look fuckin’ sharp.” 

 Thirty seconds later, the sound of an engine running approaches headquarters. A faint beeping prompts you and the rest of the group out the door, single file. 

 Just outside, in the late morning sun, a shiny red sports car twinkles, idling by the sidewalk. Compress waves from the driver's seat. Twice nods to you and Dabi and climbs into the car. Toga hangs back for a quick second to squeeze your hand. “You’re gonna be fine,” she whispers, then skips towards the car. As her door swings shut, you swallow hard and turn to look up at Dabi, who’s scanning the streets coolly. 

“Where did Spinner go-?” You start to ask, just as a big, gray, nondescript van pulls up, goes around the sports car, and parallel parks just in front of it. 

“There’s our ride,” Dabi responds vaguely, then jerks his head in the direction of the van. “C’mon.” He walks briskly, not waiting for you to keep up. You scurry after him. Suddenly, he stops and turns, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Oh-here.” He digs into the large pocket of his coat and withdraws a plain black facemask and a blue baseball cap. “Put these on.”

You obey swiftly, tucking your long hair behind your ears and arranging the rest of your disguise carefully. When you’re done, you look back up at him. 

“Good?” You ask. 

“Good.” There’s something strange in Dabi’s voice, some feeling you can’t quite decipher, before he breaks away and turns back to the van. “Hurry up. We ain’t got all day, doll.”

You roll your eyes but follow him, letting him open up the back door to the van and climbing in, settling down in the spacious second row. Dabi slams the door behind you and goes around, jumping into the passenger seat. 

Spinner is waiting, eyes focused, his claws clenched on the steering wheel. 

“Good to go, Lizard,” Dabi drawls, throwing his feet up on the dash. “Let’s get this over with.”

 You watch the route carefully as Spinner drives, several blocks up, two rights, one left, and across a bridge to the other side of the city. The drive doesn’t talk long, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour, before you pull up to the gates of an industrial park. The guard at the gate waits for Spinner to roll down his window, looking bored. 

“What’s your business here?” He demands, but even his voice is listless, flat. 

“We’re here to make a delivery to the Doctor,” Spinner responds sharply. “You gonna let us in, or what?”

The guard’s eyes widen and he seems to jump to life. “Oh yes-yes, sir!” His hand slaps a button, causing the gates to creak open. “Apologies. You know where to go-?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Spinner bites, and the van drives through the gates seamlessly. 

Dabi has been staring out the windshield the whole time, lost in thought, but as Spinner navigates the van through the industrial park, he turns to look at you. “How ya feelin’, Rookie?” His smirk is wide. 

Your chin jerks up in defiance. “I’m fine,” you snap back, causing his smile to spread wider. “Good girl,” he mouths at you, and your cheeks heat up as he turns to face forward again.

Cocky bastard. 

The van stops in front of a huge, gray warehouse. Spinner throws the van in park and jumps out, Dabi following suit without a word. You scramble across the seat to jump out the side door and catch up with them. You glance over your shoulder, surprised to see that the sports car carrying the others is nowhere to be seen. “Where’s everyone else?” You wonder out loud. 

Dabi strolls on, not bothering to turn around as he answers you. “They’re doing what they’re supposed to do; being a distraction.”

Spinner coughs a laugh and you decide you’d rather not know what the other half of the team is doing right now. 

 A man is waiting on the side of the warehouse, a baggy black hoodie covering most of his features. He shuffles forward, hands in pockets as your small trio approaches him. 

“You with the League?” he mutters, keeping his face down except to chance an occasional glance up. 

“Yeah. Sorry, we didn’t bring our business cards,” Dabi bites out, causing the man to shuffle his feet. “Is the package ready or not? We don’t exactly have time to chit chat.”

“Yes sir. Here.” The man pulls a flat package out of his pocket- no bigger than a large jewelry box, and hands it off to Dabi. “Does the Doctor need anything else from us?”

“We’ll be in touch.” Dabi flashes a vaguely threatening smile before turning on his heel and leading you back to the van. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the man glance curiously up at you before returning his gaze to the pavement. 

 You do your best to walk coolly back to the van after Spinner and Dabi, fully aware that your heart is thumping so loudly in your chest that you’re concerned the others might hear it. For a second, you have to take a step back and take a look at your current life; you are committing crime with the League of Villains. This is not where you thought you’d end up. Oddly enough, you’re more comfortable with this crowd than you ever were as a Hero, even on patrols. The thought sticks with you as your climb back into the van and settle into the same seat as before. Dabi shuts his door and glances back at you. 

“See, not bad. Halfway done.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, buckling and leaning back in your seat. 

“You did good keeping your cool,” Spinner remarks, as the van chugs back to life and he shifts into drive. “Not bad for an ex-Hero.”

You blink in surprise; this might be the first time Spinner’s actually spoken to you. “Oh. Thanks.”

 Spinner chooses to ignore this and go back to silence, which is fine. Dabi gives you one last look before turning forward himself. In the silence, you gaze out the window and watch as you depart the industrial back and get back on the road. 

The Doctor’s headquarters are a bit of a longer drive; about an hour outside of the city. You watch as the urban settings change into suburban ones; sidewalks and payphones changing to trees and small family homes, before the van moves further into the outskirts of suburbia and heads up a small mountain road. After a couple bumpy miles, you pull up to a plain, nondescript house; a very heavily guarded one. Villains of all shapes and sizes stand at every inch of the perimeter; some smoking, some talking amongst themselves, some playing cards. All stand to attention as the van pulls up, shuffling their weapons or flexing their muscles intimidatingly. One of them, heavily muscled and holding a weapon- is that a fucking machine gun?- approaches the van first, right at the top of the drive. He holds his hand out, motioning for Spinner to pull to a stop, and then approaches the window. 

“Name and business,” he says brusquely, the minute the window is down. Dabi leans across Spinner to answer just as brusquely. “We’re with the League, here to make a delivery to the doctor, on Shigaraki’s orders.”

The villain steps back to mutter something into the earpiece he’s wearing. He waits a second, listening, then nods. “Proceed. Park to the left.” 

Spinner drives the van the remainder of the way up the drive, parking in the designated spot to the left of the house. You follow Dabi and Spinner out of the vehicle silently, ignoring the chills that go through you as you glance around and see that every Villain in the yard is watching your group with narrowed eyes and scowls. One of them steps forward, indicating that he’s an escort. “You can follow me.”

Dabi leads the group behind the escort, glancing back at you. You fall into step behind Spinner, keeping your eyes straight forward as you walk. 

As it turns out, the house is set up like a business; you walk through the front door to the waiting room, where a receptionist sits behind a glass cubicle- probably bullet proof, you muse, as the door swings shut behind you. The escort stands off to the side as Dabi approaches the glass. The receptionist looks up, smiling brightly after her eyes travel up and down Dabi’s body. “Can I help you?” She chirps, annoyingly perky. 

Dabi doesn’t smile back. “Here to see the Doctor. I’ve got a delivery.”

The receptionist nods, tapping rapidly on her keyboard and skimming the computer screen. “Ah, there you are- you’re with the League?”

“Yep.”

“Alright. Just one minute.” The receptionist picks up the phone, punching a few buttons, then waits as the other end presumably rings. You watch her eyes light up as whoever’s on the other end answers. “Doctor, the League is here with something for you. Shall I bring it back?”

She listens again, then nods. “Understood, sir.” Hanging up, she looks back up at Dabi. “The Doctor would like to see you directly. If you’ll just follow me-” She stands up to scurry around and open a locked door beside the window. 

You follow Dabi and Spinner through the door, but at the last second, the receptionist grabs your wrist, holding you back. Instinctively, you go to jerk away, but her hold only tightens. Confused, you glance at her. 

Her smile is candy-sweet, the opposite of the vice-like grip she has on your wrist. “Sorry, dear. The Doctor asked for Dabi and Spinner specifically. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Panicking, you look at Dabi, who has stopped beside Spinner and is watching this all go down. You watch as he considers all of this, then looks at you. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.”

 You swallow hard, dread creeping up your throat at the thought of sitting in this waiting room, alone with strangers- Villains you don’t know- without the people you’re comfortable with. You nod anyway, wanting to show Dabi that you can follow orders, and allow the receptionist to tug you back into the waiting room. 

She smiles again, a fake sweet smile. “You can sit down, dear. I’m sure it won’t be long.” With that, she slams the door in your face.

Rejected, you turn and head back into the corner of the office with the chairs, sinking into one and turning your gaze to your lap. Your legs are pressed tightly together, betraying your attempt to hide your anxiety, and your fists are balled against your knees, the knuckles turning white. You flex your hands, forcing them to smooth out, and cross your legs, glancing around furtively. The escort is still standing by the door, hands wrapped around his weapon, observing you watchfully. The receptionist has returned to her work, typing rapidly away at her keyboard, a self-satisfied smirk resting at corners of her mouth. In front of you is a low table with stacks of magazines on it. 

What is this, a Doctor’s office? You think, before realizing that, technically, it is. With a sigh you reach forward, grabbing the first magazine you reach and opening it in your lap, just to have something to do. You pay no attention to the articles or pictures as you flip through, your eyes glazed over as your anxiety gets worse with each passing second your accomplices aren’t back.

What the hell could they possibly be doing back there? What is taking so long? 

Oh, god. What if something went wrong?

You get stuck on this horrifying thought, trying your best to keep a casual look on your face as your mind goes a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to escape if you get stuck here. A loud voice makes you jump.

“And who do we have here?” Another large man, one that you didn’t notice coming inside because your brain was having an anxiety spiral, plops down in the chair next to you, eyeing you like a meal. 

“I-I’m with the League,” you say shortly, avoiding eye contact as you rifle busily through the magazine in your lap. 

“Never seen a League Member who wasn’t welcome back to see the Doctor.” The man lets out a loud, booming laugh. You barely manage to keep from jumping out of your skin. “You new or somethin’?”

“Yeah. A new recruit.” 

“Interesting. A new recruit that we haven’t heard of yet. Usually Shigaraki tells the Doctor everything, as soon as it happens.” He scratches his scruff lazily. “Why are you wearin’ all that? Everybody out there thinks you’re real cute, only we can’t see your face.” Unbelievably, his hand reaches out as if to pull your mask down. You recoil sharply, slapping his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me!” Your voice comes out strong, biting. The man looks surprised, and then perturbed. Desperately, you glance around the room for backup; the secretary is ignoring the situation, probably used to this Villain harassing guests, while the escort stands by the door, watching in amusement. You're not gonna find any help here, you realize.

“Apparently you don’t know the rules around here, sweetheart. When you’re on our property, we’re in charge.” His voice is loud, threatening. “Take this shit off.”

A small struggle ensues; you go to slap the man's hand again and he seizes your wrist in a bruising hold, lifting you out of your chair. You struggle to get free, spitting curses and insults at him, while he attempts to hold you with one hand and pull your mask down with the other, crooning, "c'mon, sweetheart, don't be like that- just a peek- Ouch! You little fuckin' bitch-" as you punch him in the ear as hard as you could with your free hand. He drops you almost immediately and you fall to the floor with an oof, glaring up at him as he rubs his ear in annoyance and leans down to seize you again. "You little fucking cunt-"

“If you touch our rookie one more time, I’m gonna burn you to fucking bits.” The relief that runs through you at the sound of Dabi’s voice is embarrassing. You whip around from your place on the floor to see him and Spinner standing in front of you. Dabi’s eyes gleam wickedly. 

The Villian scoffs, standing up to flex his muscles at Dabi. He’s at least six inches taller and smirks down at him threateningly. 

“You wanna take me on, you fuckin’ punk? You tryin’ to threaten me?”

“Oh, it’s not a threat,” Dabi smiles. “It’s a promise. You don’t fucking touch her.” He turns to you. “We’re done here. Let’s go.” 

Scrambling up from the floor in relief, you try not to make your fear too obvious as you hurry around the edge of the wooden table and go right to Dabi’s side. He takes your arm, leading you outside in front of the escort, Spinner following silently behind you. 

Dabi all but pulls you to the van, throwing the door open. “Get in and stay in. Lock the door,” he says hurriedly, under his breath, and you don’t understand until after he slams the door shut and turns to face the Villain who has followed you outside, his weapon cocked and pointing at Dabi as he storms towards him. Horrified, you slam your hand down on the lock button. You can’t hear what he’s yelling at Dabi, but whatever it is gets cut short as Dabi lifts a palm and blasts him with a nonstop wave of blue fire. You jump in your seat and shriek as you watch the Villain try to run, screaming all the while, before collapsing to the ground, blue flames still licking at his skin. The other Villains around the yard watch in fury and horror before trying to rush forward. Spinner reaches Dabi’s side, both of them tensed to fight. 

“Hold on, hold on,” you hear from around the building, before an old, short man comes around the corner, hands in the air. He takes in the scene; his charred and smoking former employee, his enraged guards, and Dabi and Spinner, tensed by the van. 

“Everything alright?” the old man asks cheerfully, as if everything is normal. “Sorry, Doc. It couldn’t be avoided,” Dabi answers him, still tensed. 

Oh, so this is the Doctor. 

The Doctor considers this before shrugging. “That one was giving me some trouble, anyway. Apologies for the hubbub, Dabi. On your way. Give Shigaraki my best.” 

“Will do,” Dabi answers casually now, dropping his arms and strolling around the side of the van as Spinner quickly gets into the driver’s seat. As the door opens, you hear the Doctor addressing the other guards in the yard. “Stand down. Back to work, unless you want to join your friend here.”

Neither Dabi or Spinner even look at you until the van is safely down the driveway and speeding back along the main road. You’re too scared to speak, still shaking and trying to pretend that you’re not. You think you might be in shock- even as a Hero, witnessing murders was a rare and unfortunate thing. It makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in, how badly it can turn, what could happen to you if you disobey the League. 

It’s fucking terrifying. 

About a mile down the road, Dabi finally turns to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks, in the same gentle voice he usually saves for Toga. Spinner picks up on this, glancing at him, wide-eyed, before turning back to the road. Dabi’s eyes don’t leave yours as you scramble for an answer. 

“Not really,” You finally croak, squeezing your hands together. Dabi reaches back and tucks a loose hair behind your ear. 

“I’m sorry it happened like that.” That’s all he says, giving you one last sober look before turning back to the front seat. 

“Thank you,” You finally say. Dabi nods, still facing forward. Spinner’s eyes dart from Dabi to you in the rearview mirror, but he stays silent, focusing on the drive. Following their lead, you turn back to the window, staring blankly at the scenery for the next hour before the streets become familiar again. 

When the van pulls up the headquarters, you’re surprised to see that the sports car is also already back. As you open the front door, Toga rushes out and hugs you. “Welcome back! How did it go?” 

“Uh-” you glance at Dabi behind you, Spinner just over his shoulder. “It was-”

“It was fine. Y/n did good.” Dabi doesn’t bother taking his coat or boots off, heading directly up the stairs. “I need to go check in with Shig. Then we’ll figure dinner out.” He glances at you. “Drink some water,” he instructs, before clomping up the stairs to Shig’s room. 

You stare after him, then notice that Toga is staring at you. 

“He killed someone in front of you. Right?” 

You gape at her, allowing her to take your hand and lead you to the couch. “How did you know?” 

“Because the first time he did it in front of me, I went into shock and he made me drink water for like, twenty minutes after I came out of it.” She smiles, a little sadly. “It’s scary.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say. Toga thinks for a minute and then jumps up, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’ll get you some water and then you can tell me everything about your first mission!”

 You spend the next forty minutes recounting everything to Toga, who’s curled up next to you on the couch, as you slowly sip your water. Eventually you feel more grounded, more present, between the water and the warmth of the room, the comfort of the couch. Toga listens, wide-eyed, beaming and nodding as you finish explaining the day's events. “Except for the murder part, it sounds like a really good first mission,” she says bluntly, and to your surprise, a giggle escapes your mouth. She looks at you in surprise as you begin to laugh harder. 

“What?” 

“‘Except for the murder part.’” You’re wheezing now, tilting off the couch at the surreality of the day. Toga can’t help but join in, the two of you collapsing on each other in a fit of hysterical giggles. 

That’s how Dabi finds you as he descends the stairs; you and Toga clinging to each other and laughing so hard that you both have tears rolling down your faces. Something in his chest swells. He’s never heard you laugh before, he realizes. Your laugh is sweet and bubbly, and he wants to hear more of it, but there’s business to be done. 

“Y/n.” You glance up, brushing the tears from your cheeks as you look at him. “Shig wants to see you upstairs.”

Oh, Jesus. You glance at Toga, who looks equally nervous and excited, and nudges you off the couch. You stand and join Dabi at the stairs, following him up. He leads you down a short hallway, knocking on one of the bedroom doors. “Shig. I’ve got y/n.”

“Come in,” Shig calls from behind the door. You tense, not knowing what to expect, but when the door swings open, Shig is seated in a beanbag chair, focusing on a video game. 

You internally breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, so maybe you’re not about to get whacked. 

“Shig. Focus.” Dabi sounds exasperated. Shigaraki hits the pause button before standing and turning to face you. 

“Dabi says you did well on the mission.”

You swallow hard. “I tried.”

“It was your first one. It didn’t need to be perfect. I’m interested in your story, y/n. From Hero to Villain in three days.” His eyes narrow at you, his head tilting slightly. “You really want to do this?”

You take a deep breath, gazing at the floor as you try to gather your thoughts neatly. “Being a Hero didn’t do anything for me. It’s only now that I’ve started working with you all that i realize how fucked up the Hero Commision is. I was a child. I was being trained to be a soldier. THey don’t care about your well-being. They don’t care about your health. They just want your Quirk power. That’s not a society I want for anyone, anymore. So, if working with the League can help shake the system a little bit, I’m here to help.” You chance a look up at him. “Let me help.” It comes out as a plea, soft and sincere. Shigaraki stares at you for a few long seconds, and then nods. 

“Welcome to the League, y/n.”

[arlo-venn]

I have that barium swallow/xray in the morning, to check on the hiatal hernia. Two problems with that:

The hernia typically only bothers me if there is food in my stomach, and they said nothing to eat/drink after midnight besides what is necessary for normal medications, so I’m fairly certain my stomach will be slipped out from my diaphragm during this imaging. This is generally how this specific type of hernia works for most people so I guess I’m kind of confused about the no food thing.

The hernia has not been bothering me as much this last week and a half so it is extra unlikely that my stomach will actually be pushed up through my diaphragm during the test.

I guess I’ll just have to go to the emergency room for imaging the next time it is actually occurring?? Bc the barium swallow schedules a few weeks out, so I feel like it’s kind of impossible to time it properly that way.

Then in the afternoon I meet the surgeon who’s going to steal away my gallbladder, which I am very nervous about for the following reasons:

I have to ask about and be stern about a pre-agreed upon pain management plan, which will likely have to involve me asking for more medication than is normally prescribed for this surgery. Can’t decide if mentioning the PTSD from the dozens and dozens of gruesomely gnarly MRSA infections will help or make matters worse. I also need to ask specifically for Percocet because Vicodin does not have an effect on me, and I haven’t tried the other ones so I can’t say for sure that they will, either. So I will need him to agree to the one that I know works for me and I need him to agree to give me more than enough to last until I’m fully fully fully healed.

I need to ask him if there is a way to completely avoid being touched or seen by anybody anywhere that is normally covered by underwear, and I’ll have to refuse the surgery if he’s unwilling to find a work around for me in that regard.

Because non-consensual pelvic exams under anesthesia are legal in Ohio, I need to ask for something to sign stating that I do not consent to that, which I fear may make him think I’m looney.

I want to ask if I can record the surgery on my phone or have some sort of witness present because I do not trust human beings with my body sans consciousness, which I also fear will make him think I’m nuts, and maybe less likely to take me seriously about needing the pain management plan.

[torque-witch]

TMI Periods

(I can’t hide posts on mobile anymore that I know of)

But like goddamn is it messing with my guts and Crohn’s. I almost called off or called in late to work this morning but I just opted to lay down until I had to put some clothes on and powered through it fine. I usually don’t eat until 2-3pm on work days to avoid any potential issues, but especially right now.

I’m off birth control currently (my main use was to prevent this from happening) to see if it’s been causing an uptick in my nervous system response (endocrinology said bc of the pill my cortisol was very high) and I guess who really knows because no one ever bothers to look at anything further - but I’m annoyed that my choices seem to be a) anxiety and no babies/period + gender affirming or b) severe IBS, migraines, uncontrollable flow but my sleep feels incredibly more stable which is where the bulk of my anxiety displays itself. I’ll also give it that I’ve barely had any cramps this round which is nice.

But, my Gastro has stated that I have a very fast-moving digestion process, which is why he labeled me as severe IBS post Prednisone use. Some of that is not having a gall bladder + the less acid production as well. But those flare ups also make me more anxious as a byproduct.

*Generally though, I feel like I have a really regular routine outside of my period, my sleep is deeper and with less nightmares, and the transition of waking up has been a lot easier. My reflux has improved SO much after getting off the pill omg.

But still. What trade off is better? What is actually meaningful?

The whole reason I ever got on bc in the first place was actually because of Crohn’s. I’ve been on near continuous pills since about 2014. I’m sure there are health ramifications because of that, but the doctors originally thought all my issues were period related. They could be, for sure, but allowing me to be on meds for almost 10 years without any regular testing could have also contributed to my nervous system going completely out of wack when we added two cortisol-affecting medications on top of that.

I’m just complaining because I want bodily peace. It keeps me from doing everything that I want, producing everything that I want. I feel like so much of my life over the last year and a half has just been laying down. I should be happy with progress regardless, and I am, but I am also tired of being so physically exhausted from my nervous system being in near constant turmoil from multiple angles.

[giransbunnywife]

One small but surely definitive moment between Bunny and Chet, and one of my favorites, has got to be the time her nighttime anxiety is really showed. She’s not supposed to be on night watch but switches with someone bc she just can’t sleep. The thoughts are loud in her brain and she just can’t escape the anxiously intrusive ones that keep plaguing her. She joins Chet for their first night watch together, kinda quiet and solemn compared to her usual demeanor.

Normally this wouldn’t be such a shocker, but this is Bunny! The beautiful, adorable little thing that hasn’t stopped talking and sharing since the moment they first met. She’s almost never quiet unless the moment calls for it, and generally just always cheerful. For her to be quiet and sad is just unlike her, at least from what he’s seen from her. And Chet’s too curious not to ask, plus he’s been enthralled by her since they first met anyway.

“What’s got you so quiet, Bunny?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing��� I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

She’s fiddling with her dress and staring at the blades of grass underneath her feet. The never ending thoughts are written completely on her face, with a concerned divot that never seems to vanish between her brows. Even those that don’t know her as well as her most trust Tabaxi companion could see through her sullen demeanor.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, but after a few seconds of prolonged silence… she can’t help but speak up. After some time of opening and closing her mouth, sucking in deep breaths and hesitating on her words, she finally finds the words.

“Nights are… really bad for me sometimes,” She says with a small squeak to her voice, “I get really anxious and have some scary thoughts. A lot of times I can ignore them or brush them off, but… sometimes it’s not so easy.”

“What kind of scary thoughts? I don’t wanna to pry, but—“

“Just all kinds of stuff that I’m anxious about… kind of depends on if something triggered it or if I’m just having a bad night. Sometimes about me or the people I care about… just bad, nasty things…”

Her voice trails off for a second before she tries to laugh at herself a bit, a smile curling just a little. Possibly an attempt to lighten to mood from such a heavy and personal topic.

“Sometimes it’s recalling memories about silly or stupid stuff I did that I regret. All of the things that I wonder what could of happened… all the things that haunt me.”

“Oh… That’s heavy shit.”

Bunny chuckles, feeling less nervous by how little judgement she receives. She’s so used to seeing the shock and the discomfort on people’s faces when she opens up about her anxiety. The way it manifests and how it eats away at her. There’s very little regret on her face, and in fact she feels almost relieved by being able to talk about something that’s been bothering her.

“I had no idea that you’ve been dealing with that—“

“I tend to keep it quiet, especially from new people. Lot of people meet me with questions that are too personal or too much concern that it makes me even more anxious than I already am. But I trust you guys… Y’all have been refreshingly different…”

She smiles warmly, perking up for the first time since she sat down beside him.

“I appreciate you sharing all that with me, Bunny.”

“It’s nothing… Thanks for listening. I know it’s kind of a bummer when I’m in a sour mood.”

“You don’t have to be so chipper all the time, Y’know. None of them are gonna treat you any differently—“

“Yeah, I know… They’re all so wonderful and understanding. I’m just so used to being the one who everyone relies on to keep the conversation going… It’s refreshing to have the opposite, though.”

“Well, you don’t gotta worry about that with me. I like your company fine.”

“Thanks, Chet. That means a lot.”

She giggles softly, brushing her hair back and falling into a ginger silence that makes her feel less awkward and more relaxed.

“Would it be better if I just sat here with you?”

“That’d be… really nice, Chet. Thank you.”

Bunny falls quiet and she just sits and watch the rising sun, relaxing into the peacefulness after letting her worries wash away just a little. And that is pretty much the first time that there’s just a little bit of a glimpse inside just what a wonder she is, even through all of her demons.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

[jamies001fan]

You Weren't There

pairing: Jamie x fem!reader summary: Jamie messed up, big time. Once he realizes what he's done, can he make it up to you? requested: yes! warnings: tears (a lot of them), mentions of anxiety but not any attacks, Jamie being a sweetheart & knowing he needs to make it better, a brief make out + 1 hickey, mention of Harry Styles bc he always cheers me up but y'all can picture whatever song you want wc: 8,474

“Love, I promise, once filming gets done, I’ll be at the showing! You know I’d never miss your beautiful work, angel.” He sounded serious because, well, he was. You had been over the moon with excitement for the past 3 months ever since you found out that you’d won a local art contest. The winners had their works shown in the largest gallery in the area, and it was a true dream for you to have others see the hard work you put into your paintings. Sure, the gallery wasn’t as large as MoMA or the MET, but thousands of people went daily to view the incredible art that was already there. Painting was a passion you had, and you didn’t bother trying to hide it. Everyone you knew either found out from you, from Jamie, or from the numerous photos you always shared. And thanks to the constant support and encouragement, you always felt confident with what you created.

“Filming gets over at 8pm, and it’s a 45 minute drive here, please be careful, Jamie!” You speak fast into the direction of your phone that’s currently on speaker as you finish putting your shoes on. Your eyes glance to your watch and see the bold numbers say ‘6:30pm’, and your heart skips a beat. “The showing starts in 30 minutes, baby. Even if you aren’t gonna be there until around 9, I know people are going to want to see you as well!” The words are spoken with an obvious tone of anxiousness as you picked up your purse and headed towards the door, your uber just pulling up as you walked outside.

“Like I said, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But the real art is you, and you need to get going! I’ll text you when I’m on my way, baby. I love you!” The words made you feel less anxious as you said your goodbyes to each other and got in the uber. Your heart was beating fast from both nervousness and excitement the closer you got to the gallery. You were still trying to process how you managed to win, despite so many other talented individuals being in the contest with you. Countless nights where Jamie had to nearly carry you away from your computer because you were refreshing your emails every 5 minutes to see if you’d been chosen as the winner. Suspense was never your friend, but the 2 weeks where you didn’t hear anything back from anyone? It was surprising that you hadn’t lost your mind at least once. 

The uber finally reached the gallery and you took several deep breaths after getting out of the car. Your thoughts were scattered, ‘what if no one actually likes my work?’, ‘no one's gonna know who I am.’, ‘is this really happening?’. But the one that was in the front of your mind, ‘I can’t wait for Jamie to see this, he’s been so excited for me.’. Before you started walking, you glanced at your watch and saw the numbers read ‘6:28pm’. It took a moment to hype yourself up before you made your way up the small staircase and pulled the door open, familiar faces already coming into view. Within seconds of walking inside, your close friends made their way towards you, congratulating you on your work. It was obvious that you were nervous, if Jamie were with you, you would be attached to him at the hip. He knew that you sometimes got nervous with crowds, and he didn’t mind speaking for you if he knew you weren’t up to it. 

You gradually made your way over to where your painting was, the golden frame around it making your heart skip a beat. A smile spread across your face as you noticed more people looking at it, a small crowd forming in front of you. Your eyes kept glancing at your phone, keeping an eye out for a text from Jamie. Every now and then you’d have people ask you questions about your work, which you gladly answered with more passion each time. Hearing others tell you how they interpret your work was also interesting, as there was obviously no right or wrong answer. The way that art makes everyone feel a different way, whether it be paintings, music, photography, or writing, it all makes everyone feel something, and you love it. 

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you checked your watch and the numbers read ‘9:30pm’. In a moment of panic, you check your phone thinking you missed a text from Jamie, and you felt your heart drop when there was nothing there. Just as you were about to text him to see if he was okay, one of your friends walked over and pulled you into a short hug, making your sudden anxiety go down a little. Another 30 minutes had passed without a word from him, and you felt like you could cry. The showing was over, and he hadn’t showed up, or even facetimed. Luckily, one of your friends drove you home, but the silence was deafening as you finally pulled into your driveway. Exchanging goodbyes and goodnights, you made your way inside, locking the door and leaning on it as you felt tears roll down your cheeks. 

Noise from inside your bedroom only made the small anger inside you grow as you slowly moved to the door. It was ajar, and you could see Jamie on the bed watching tv, not a care in the world as to where you were. You push the door open and his eyes meet yours for not even a second, making you step in front of the tv. He had the audacity to ask you to move, and you only scoffed, turning the tv off. The silence filled the room for what seemed like hours, and the single illuminated lamp that was next to him made his features more prominent, as much as you hated to admit in the moment. As much as you didn’t want him to say anything to you that might piss you off, you knew it was going to happen, and you wanted to see how deep of a hole he would dig himself.

“Love, why did you do that? The show was almost finished.” He sounded annoyed. As if you had interrupted something important to him. You could tell he didn’t know about the showing, and that he forgot to text you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. “Don’t just stand there, either move or turn the tv back on. Can’t just turn it off when you want attention, I gave you attention earlier.” His hand moved to the remote, but yours blocked the sensor so it wouldn’t work, resulting in an eye roll from him. “What’s the matter, broke a nail?” The question was complete sarcasm, and you hated it.

“What’s the matter?” You asked in a low voice, an angry voice. “Maybe the fact that I was at my art showing for 4 hours without you texting or calling once. Or the fact that you weren’t there to drive me home? I knew you had filming to do, but you promised you’d show up, and you didn’t. My friends were asking where you were, and I said you were busy, preoccupied. I had strangers keep me company because you weren’t there. So I'm mad, Jamie. Actually, that’s an understatement. I’m livid right now. I wanted my other half, my better half, my partner of 3 years to be by my side, and he wasn’t. Don’t you dare act like I’m the bad guy for turning off your show, when you didn’t show up for me like you promised. Or do you not remember our conversation from earlier? Because I do, and that only makes it hurt more.” Tears were streaming down your face as you spoke, and his eyes went more wide than you’d ever seen.

“Shit. Baby, I’m so, so, so sorry.” He jumped off the bed and ran to hug you, slightly picking you up off the floor as he held you close to him. “After filming the guys wanted to get drinks and-”

“Drinks?” You cut him off as you pushed him away from you, fire in your eyes. “You got drinks with the guys instead of being there for your own partner? How long were you out for?” Your brief interrogation caught him off guard, but by the look in his eyes, you didn’t want to know the answer. His mouth opened to speak but you put your hand up, immediately silencing him. “You went out and had a few too many drinks as I was trying to not get overwhelmed with the amount of people around me. You know how I am with crowds, Jamie, and you just didn’t bother showing up? Your buddies were more important than me? I can’t fucking believe this.” Your throat had that pain in it, the feeling when you’re about to start sobbing but feel the need to hold back until you’re alone.

“I promise I had every intention of going to your showing, my love. Time just sort of.. got away from me.” His hand cautiously reached up the side of your face, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. More than anything, you wanted to lean into his simple touch, to pull him into you and feel him mold against you like the two pieces of a puzzle you both were. But your anger was too strong, not even the warmth of his hand on your cheek was enough to settle the fire inside of you. You could tell he thought he was in the clear from how he was leaning closer to kiss you, and you let him believe he was allowed for a second before you placed a firm hand on his chest, effectively keeping him at arm's length.

“Time got away from you, huh?” You asked calmly, rubbing your thumb against the soft material of his shirt, before pressing your pointer finger to his chest. He nods his head with a smile so small you’d have to squint to see it. “Lost track of it for so long that you didn’t think to check the watch you still have on? Or any of the numerous clocks on the wall of the bar, or even have a friend tell you? I doubt that the guys were holding you hostage, keeping you away from me. In fact, you told me that they were happy for me and that they wanted photos from the showing. You think saying sorry is gonna fix this? That it’ll be forgiven after you kiss me longer than 5 seconds? No, Jamie, you messed up. I don’t know how you can fix this, but it’s your own mistake, you find a way.” He let out a groan as you had fully backed him into a wall, tears again streaming down your face.

This was the first time you had ever seen Jamie really speechless. Sure, there were a few times you kissed him that left him mesmerized, but you could tell he was genuinely upset at how badly he messed up. He let you walk away from him and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Nearly the second the lock clicked, you were sliding down the door as tears continued to roll down your now very flushed cheeks. You sloppily pried off your shoes, shoving them away as a throaty groan left you, a sudden burst of air flooding your lungs after not breathing for an unknown time. The choked sobs from the other side of the door made Jamie’s heart ache, especially since he knew he was the cause. He walked over to the door slowly, hoping that some way you might sense him and know how ashamed he felt.

There were no other thoughts in his mind other than how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around you. When you have your moments, the moments where you can’t stop yourself from crying, he’s always right next to you. Holding you contently, listening to you ramble about whatever has you upset, wiping your tears with his thumb, playing whatever show or movie you wanted to watch to try and keep your mind off whatever hell your day had been. After consoling you many times, he knew how long it sometimes took you to cool down, whether he was helping or not. Even if he was the cause, even if he couldn’t hold your shaking body while you sobbed, he’d kick himself if he didn’t wait for you to be okay. 

After not hearing anything for about 5 minutes, he thought it would make your night a tad bit easier if you had food to eat. You almost always asked him for a snack after a particularly emotional time, and he was never one to say no. It was always something simple; some crackers, half of a sandwich, fruit slices, he knew that something too heavy made your stomach hurt more after the tears. Sadly for you, a snack was the last thing on your mind. Your audible sobs had turned into silent cries, still very much happening and making your heart hurt more with each second. Did you want to forgive and forget this whole situation? More than anything. But you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him so easily with this, considering he knew how important this was for you.

Your eyes were puffy, nose bright red, and throat sore. Still, you knew your barely there hunger was more important than you sitting on the ground. With slight hesitation, you opened the door and nearly fell forward from sitting down, not that it would’ve made the situation much worse. It would take time for the dizziness and pressure on your head to fully go away, so you weren’t planning to move fast. No sounds were anywhere within range, and you almost wanted to start crying again. Jamie always stuck around to make sure you were okay, so why didn’t he this time? ‘Was he that annoyed with you?’ ‘Or did he go out to the bar again, wanting to get drunk over seeing you like this?’ The thoughts invaded your mind as you slowly made your way to your feet, leaning on your bed frame as you tried to steady yourself. 

Gradually making your way out of your room, you can’t ignore how your heart skips a beat when you see Jamie sitting on the couch. He doesn’t see you at first, only looking up from his phone when he notices movement from the corner of his eye. His heart breaks more when he sees your face, the faded makeup around your eyes from you wiping away tears, your lips dry from having to breathe through your mouth due to your nose being stuffy. Emotions were out of the question as he stood up from the couch and stepped over to you, pulling you into him. That caused more tears to come from you, these being more out of defeat than sadness.  A weak yelp came from you as you felt yourself being picked up and carried into the kitchen. Jamie sat you on the counter before going to the fridge and taking out the fruit slices he’d cut up earlier. You kept your face down so he wouldn’t see how bad you looked, even though you knew he didn’t care. Regardless how bad you thought you looked, he always thought you were the most angelic looking human to ever exist. His finger gently hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment or annoyance that you could see, and it made your heart flutter. He gave you a small smile before reaching to get a fruit slice, holding it out for you to take.

You didn’t realize how much you really needed something in your stomach until you tasted the sweetness of the fruit in your mouth. It wasn’t a big slice, just enough to make you want more. After having about 5 more slices, you nodded to Jamie, signaling you weren’t wanting anymore. He turned around to put the rest of it away, mumbling under his breath how proud he was of you for eating something despite maybe not wanting to. Not 5 seconds passed before he was back in front of you, rubbing a hand on your back to try and calm you more. There was barely any space between you both as he wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled you closer to him again. The faded scent of his cologne made you lean into him more, burying your face in his neck.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, huh? It’s getting late, don’t want you sleeping in your fancy stuff.” He whispers, and you nod. You’d forgotten that you were still in your outfit, being preoccupied with your emotions for the past few hours. As Jamie picked you up again, you glanced at the clock on the stove and sighed to yourself when you saw the numbers flash ‘11:25’. Had you really spent that much time crying? Sure, you had a completely valid reason, but you hadn’t seen the time at all since you had been home. You’re sat on the bed and Jamie helps you change clothes, saying loving words to you the whole time. 

Too tired to argue with him, you let him lay next to you and wrap his arms around you. You missed the feeling of him holding you, even if you were still mad at him. The more you cuddled with him, the more relaxed you were, and you knew this was what you needed after being a wreck earlier. Time seems to freeze as you focus on the sound of his heartbeat, curling up more into his side as your tired eyes shut. His lips gently kissing the top of your head and his hand softly rubbing your back were the last things you felt before falling asleep, along with a barely audible “I love you, my angel.”

-

The distant scent of vanilla slowly pulled you from your sleeping state, and you smiled to yourself when you still saw Jamie lying next to you. He was awake and on his computer, probably typing an email for work, but you didn’t care enough to ask. One of his hands was on the blanket that was covering you, just so you’d feel him close to you. You notice how dark your room is, the only lights being Jamie's laptop, a candle on his bedside table, and the hallway light that was visible under your bedroom door. Your hand came from under the blanket and grabbed his, squeezing it lightly to say you were awake. Instinctively, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss right above your knuckles. “Did you sleep well? Lit your favorite candle and turned the lights off, I know how sensitive you are to them after nights like the last one.” His voice was quiet as he turned his attention from his computer to you, not wanting to say the wrong thing but also not wanting to have too much noise right when you woke up. Your eyes meet his and the sapphire sparkles in the dim lighting, no doubt making you fall in love with him even more. A small grin comes on your face as you nod at his question, cuddling into his side more and resting your head on his chest again. “I really do want to apologize for last night, angel. You shouldn’t have gone through that, and I know it’s entirely my fault. My dumbass drank too much, not that it’s an excuse. Is there any possible way I can make this up to you?” He nearly stuttered over his words, and it made your heart ache.

“I’m not gonna lie and say it’s okay, because it isn’t. I was heartbroken when I didn’t see you, Jamie. Then to see you just lounging around and hear that you went out drinking instead? You knew about this for months, I watched you write it on the calendar, and you still made other plans. I don’t know how you’re gonna get back from this one, but I’m hoping you put in more effort than you did last night.” You roll out of bed, grabbing clothes before going inside the bathroom to change. Several deep breaths escape from you as you try to not think about how you were curled against the door just last night. Not needing to go anywhere, you put on the sweatpants and hoodie you grabbed, both smelling faintly of Jamie’s cologne. Your mind drifts off, thinking about how tightly he hugged you last night. His hugs made you feel so safe and protected. He made you feel whole, like you could do anything. When you first met him, you’d just recently come out of a somewhat long relationship. Sure, your now 3 years with Jamie wasn’t anything compared to your previous year and a half with your ex, but Jamie was the first partner you had that actually gave a shit. You knew this relationship would be different from the first week, after he surprised you with flowers just because he wanted to see you smile, or when he took the both of you on a much needed vacation and practically worshiped you the whole time. The first kiss you shared with him took your breath away, and you knew you were addicted to him. It felt like a drug, the way your love for him took over, and vice versa. Within 3 months of dating him, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Pure magic is what it felt like on a daily basis, and your heart was full. Shuffling from your room pulls you from your thoughts as you open the bathroom door to see Jamie gone. A sigh leaves you while you walk into the kitchen and see a note on the countertop. “Making it up to you. I promise I’ll be back soon, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I love you, my angel. - Jamie”. Even the simple gesture of the note was enough to make your heartbeat a little quicker. There wasn’t a second that went by where Jamie didn’t love you and care about you. You both had your weak times like every other relationship on the planet, but there was never any bad blood between you both. He made sure you knew how much he loved you, whether it was with the actual words or gestures, he wanted you to feel appreciated and loved the second you woke up and the second you went to bed. Time went slowly the whole day, and very few messages from Jamie came your way. The occasional ‘Be back soon’, ‘Missing your beautiful face’, ‘I love you so much, darling’, all to which you responded with ‘please be careful, miss and love you’. It wasn’t a busy day, chores were done and you didn’t have anything urgent to respond to. While you didn’t want to spend the day wondering what he was doing, there was nothing else grabbing your attention. TV was crap and you didn’t feel like going out, not that you would on a weekday. Every bar/outing area was probably full to capacity and you really weren’t in the mood to be squeezed like a sardine in between people that were too drunk or high (or both) to care about your well being. All you felt like doing was having a quiet time to yourself, and that’s exactly what you did.

You don’t remember dozing off, but suddenly you were being woken up by Jamie’s lips on your cheek and his hand on your side. His eyes meet yours as they open, that golden smile making your cheeks turn the slightest shade of red. The silence between you was comfortable as he helped you up from where you laid on the couch. He led you into the kitchen and lifted you onto the countertop, standing in front of you until there was no room left between the two of you. Once his hands found a home on your thighs, a passionate kiss was pressed to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that took your breath away, like how he kissed you for the first time. There was no hesitation as you deepened the kiss, combing your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss never broke as he carried you from the kitchen to your bedroom, laying you down as he got on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist to keep him where he is, and his focus changes from your lips to your neck. He finds your sweet spot within seconds and sucks a faint mark onto your skin. You let out a quiet gasp as he presses another kiss onto the sensitive skin of your neck before pulling away. There’s no time to mutter out a word before he gives one more deep kiss to your lips, making you want more. To your dismay, he moves from you completely, freeing himself from your legs and rolling over to your side. A quiet laugh escapes him when he sees your face form a pout, and he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“That was a treat for both of us, I could tell you needed a little pick-me-up recently. It’s luckily still early in the day, so what do you say we spend some much needed time together? We can do whatever you want, and we’ll stay out until you want to come home.” He crossed his arms and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t badly annoyed, just upset at yourself for letting him affect you this much. To say you wanted him to kiss you again and make you feel like you were on cloud 9 was an understatement, but the reminder in the back of your head that he wasn’t there for you kept poking through. It was easy for you to forgive and forget when the time was right, he knew this from all the times your friends pissed you off as a joke. However, he also knew that the bigger the fuck up, the longer it took you to find the heart to forgive a person, and he was determined to wait for as long as he needed to.

“As lovely as that sounds, could it wait until tomorrow? I’d like to mentally prepare myself for whatever it is we do.” You don’t mean for the words to come out as quietly as they did, but you felt shy for some reason. The both of you were normally touchy feely with each other, hugs and kisses were a part of your daily language. Even though you were still rightfully pissed at him, you did want to spend a day with Jamie. Just the two of you enjoying each other's company, maybe having a few too many drinks, or just doing whatever Jamie had planned; if anything. Your last date night was so long ago, the only thing you remembered was how it ended, it made you blush every time you thought about it.

“Of course my love, there’s not much to prepare for, but take all the time you need.” His words eased some anxieties you had as you looked over at him and met his eyes, making you blush and bite your lip from feeling bashful. He traces a finger across your cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You automatically lean into his touch and it makes both of you let out sighs of contentment. The moments where you could just be with each other, holding each other, whether you were talking or not, those were your favorite moments. Trying to find the space inside your heart to forgive him would eventually happen, but it wouldn’t happen so soon. Turning onto your side so your back was facing him, he knew he wasn’t in the clear, he only hoped that what he had planned would fix some of what he caused.

The rest of the day went as well as it could’ve gone, eating dinner with each other, the love never fading from the space. Jamie was being more flirty than normal, not that it was an issue. He tried following you into the bathroom for your shower, you only chuckled and kissed his cheek before closing the door in front of him. Certain phrases that he knew made you flustered were whispered in your ear when you were getting water, his arms wrapping around you from behind as you blushed from his words. Before you both fell asleep, Jamie pulled you closer to him and held you in place with his tattooed arm. You felt safe, protected from the outside world, you felt at home.

-

Your eyes fluttered open to a somewhat dark room, the sunlight peeking through the blinds and birds faintly chirping in the distance. Jamie’s arm was still draped over you, less tight than when you fell asleep, but still firmly keeping you in place. You lightly run your fingers across some of his tattoos, just admiring the beauty of the art on the human you were lucky enough to call yours. Gradually, your feather light touches pulled Jamie from his sleep, his own hand gently grabbing yours as he fully woke up. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, craning his head up just to the point where he’s able to press kisses from your wrist to your fingertips. 

“You ready to start the day, love? Can’t wait to see that beautiful face out and about. Check the closet, one of your friends sent their help picking your outfit when you were napping yesterday.” He presses a long kiss to your cheek before rolling out of bed, his morning voice echoing in your ears. Curiosity takes over as you kick the covers off and walk over to the doors, you didn’t know which friend came over, but they all definitely knew what your style was. The glance you gave to the mirror lasted longer than you thought it would after you changed clothes. Your hands gently went over the fabric and smoothed some of the wrinkles down to add the cherry on top. 

“Are you gonna be my date for the day? You know how much I love my arm candy.” His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you see his face appear beside yours, and you couldn’t even try to hide the smile on your face. A sweet kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he squeezes you a little tighter. The warmth from his hands could be felt through your clothes as he gently rubbed circles on your sides, his small smile lighting up the room like it always did. Your hands rested on top of his as you fully leaned into him, his cologne invading your senses, almost making your brain fuzzy. Again, the silence between the two of you was comfortable, you could stay in this same position all day and you wouldn’t be upset, but you knew Jamie had plans for the both of you.

“Always love being your date, my angel. I’ll never get tired of it. But we have things to do today, let’s get going.” He spoke playfully in your ear as he lightly smacked your ass after the last sentence. It wasn’t in a sexual way, more like in a ‘we gotta go, i’ll follow you out’ way. The car ride to the downtown area was mostly quiet, the radio was turned down almost all the way, but the view outside the car was better than any music could’ve been. It was the time of year where the seasons were changing, and luckily the leaves hadn’t fallen off the trees yet. Different vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow were everywhere, and the air was so crisp and just chilly enough to where you didn’t need a jacket on. 

Jamie’s glances over to you were missed as you looked out the window, but he didn’t care. As long as you had that smile on your face, the one that made his heart skip a beat when he saw it, the one where he knew you were genuinely happy, he was fine with seeing your side profile, he loved all angles of you the same. One of his hands moved from the steering wheel to your thigh out of instinct, lightly squeezing as his thumb caressed your clothes skin. You put your hand on top of his again and gave him a smile when he quickly looked over at you, your heart full already from the simple gesture. 

“Do I wanna ask why we’re driving down a dirt road?” You giggle lightly as you ask and you can see his face light up at the sound. He parks the car behind a rather large bush before turning to you, his eyes having a different look in them. Your eyebrow raises as he reaches to the backseat and reveals a silk blindfold. “Don’t tell me we’re about to do something, baby. I’m all for spicing things up, but we’re in a public place, in a car, and in the middle of nowhere. This is testing the limits even for you.” His chuckle is lighthearted as he puts the blindfold on your lap, looking at you with pure adoration. 

“If I say where we are, it’ll ruin the surprise. Put this on and I’ll help you out darling, nothing to be nervous about.” He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek and smiles when he sees your cheeks flush to a light shade of pink. No matter how many times he kisses you, he’ll never get tired of seeing you get flustered from it. You take a deep breath before you tie the blindfold over your eyes, careful to not get your hair tangled in it. Once it was fully covering your eyes, you searched for Jamie's hands in front of you. The familiar smoothness of his palm welcomed your hands as he squeezed them briefly before getting out of the car and rushing to your side.

“If you brought me to some weird ass place, I don’t even know an example, but if it’s something weird-” You cut yourself off with a laugh as you nearly trip over what you think is a tree branch. Jamie catches you, his ringed hands holding you a little more firmly as he guides you to wherever the hell you’re going. The ground beneath you turned from hard to soft, and you pictured it turning from dirt to grass. A slight whistle of wind makes goosebumps form and Jamie lovingly rubs your arms while giving you a sweet kiss on your lips. He stops suddenly, holding you in place as your heartbeat quickens with anticipation of what’s to come.

The blindfold is removed and your eyes take in the sight around you. Jamie brought you to a flower field, one that went as far as the eye could see. Sunflowers, daisies, peonies, and tulips were everywhere you looked in all directions. Even though the air was starting to get cooler, the flowers hadn’t started to wilt. It was like they were waiting for you to be there and appreciate the beauty that nature had to give before they went away for the winter. Apparently it looked like Jamie had been there earlier, the picnic setup on the ground in front of you looking like a dream you might’ve had at one point. You turn to him and he has his golden smile again, the one that makes you forget your troubles.

“I didn’t bring you to a weird ass place, I brought you to a cute ass place. You’ve always wanted a flower field picnic, so I figured why not have one now?” You both sat down on the blanket, the flowers consuming the both of you in the best way. All you saw were bright colors and Jamie, and that’s really all you cared for at the moment. The picnic was sweet, cheesy moments of you feeding each other strawberries, and loving moments where Jamie talked about the future he saw with you. Birds chirping in the trees caught your attention for a split second, leading to Jamie gently turning your attention back to him with a passionate kiss. It catches you off guard the slightest bit, but you don’t care. 

“I didn’t know how badly I needed this. Just an us day. I love how thoughtful your mind is, baby. Really means a lot to me.” You put your palm on his cheek and he leans into your touch. He pulls something from his pocket and holds it in his hand. Your hand moves to grab your cup, taking a sip of the juice Jamie poured for you. A flash of light from the corner of your eye makes you look back to Jamie, and you see he’s holding the necklace you found at the jewelry store the other week. Something about the design made your heart happy, and it wasn’t just the gems. Each of them had their own unique sparkle in the sunlight, the colors being as vibrant as the flowers you were surrounded by. 

“For the record, you look more gorgeous than this necklace ever will. But I knew it would make you smile, and that makes you look even more gorgeous.” Your heart swells at his words while you turn your body so he can put the necklace on you. It sits perfectly on your collarbone, and you swear that you can’t feel happier than that moment. “We’d better go if we want to have time for everything else.” He says after looking at the time. By looking around you, you could tell it wasn’t late in the day, which meant he had more planned. You were nervous, but more excited than anything else. 

You make your way back to his car and put everything away before hopping back in, wondering where Jamie would be taking you next. It was another quiet ride, occasionally making eye contact which made you smile, and made him squeeze your hand gently. The dirt road turned back to gravel, and you saw the familiar shops that you’d pretty much grown up with. A few more turns came, and then the name of your favorite café came into view and you turned to look at Jamie again, your hand holding his a little tighter. 

“How cliché, the place we had our first date. I love it.” You said it teasingly, but the love in your voice was unmistakable. He parked and got out, almost running to open your door so you didn’t have to, the natural gentleman in him jumping out. His hand took yours again, intertwining your fingers as you walked over to the door. The familiar scent of freshly baked sweets, amongst other things, filling the space around you. Jamie walked in behind you and got the attention of one of the employees who quickly made their way over to you. “We have your reserved spot right outside!” Your face turns to look at Jamie and you mouth ‘You reserved a spot?’ His hand on your back gently guiding you to the table was your answer, and the view made you stop in your tracks.

You were a local to the area, grown up not too far away from the main tourist attraction. Still, every time you came over, especially during the fall/winter times, you were mesmerized. The area looked like it could be right out of a tv show, all the café’s, arcades, even mini golf courses. All leading to a boardwalk that went out quite a bit over the crystal clear waters. During the summer it was always hot and even though it wasn’t a beach, the sea was still very populated during those months. Luckily you lived in a place that had actual cold seasons, not that 75℉/23℃ in December B.S., so it was like a winter wonderland in the cold. The sea hadn’t frozen over yet since the temperature hadn’t dropped that much, but the 65℉/18℃ was comfortable. Sounds of children laughing with their families flooded your ears while views of the sun just starting to set captivated your eyes. It almost looked like a rainbow in the sky, various purples, light blues, pinks, and gold colors painted across the cloudless canvas. 

Jamie snapped you out of your thoughts, pulling out your chair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sat down to look at the menu while Jamie went back inside. The slight breeze made you shiver, but you weren’t fully cold, it was nothing a hot chocolate couldn’t help. If the whole location wasn’t ‘movie-esque’ enough, a butterfly landed on the menu right in front of you. Its wings almost glimmering with the different colors above shining down on it. As quickly as it appeared, it flew away, right as Jamie came back with his hands full. 2 hot chocolates, cookies, mini doughnuts, and 2 slices of pumpkin pie were on the tray he held. 

“You weren’t looking at the menu, were you? My love, you know I already have your order memorized! We come here every year around this time, just wanted to spoil you a bit more tonight.” He kissed the top of your head before sitting down. Your hand came up to gently run over your necklace, feeling the detail of how everything fit together. Jamie held your other hand as he took a sip of his hot chocolate, the steam making his glasses slightly fog up. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with the food choices, he knew that if there was too much in front of you, you’d only pick at it and not have any. That was just one of the many reasons why you loved him, he always kept your feelings in mind, no matter what he did. Always making sure you were comfortable, and he always tried his best to make up for when he made mistakes.

“You’d think I know that by now, I mostly just check to see if anything new is added. It means a lot that you know what I get, I love that you pay attention to the small stuff.” You smile as you sip your hot chocolate before having a mini doughnut. It was as if time just stopped at that moment. Not only was the love of your life sitting across from you and looking at you like the goddess you were, but the sky continued to take your breath away. Nothing could’ve made this moment better, and you were happy that you got to spend it with the man who made your heart feel complete. “I really can’t believe you did this, Jamie. It’s all so stunning.” Your hands motion to the food in front of you and to the view around you. There were really no words to describe it other than beautiful. 

“Says the one who looks like that, you’re the stunning one, baby.” He looks you up and down while giving you that look, and you can’t help the redness that appears on your cheeks. You both continue to eat away at what he brought out, taking your time with the pie since it was your favorite. Eventually you finished everything, including the hot chocolate, and then made your way onto the boardwalk, your finger intertwined with Jamie’s. “We still have one more place to go, and I think you’ll appreciate this one. Even though the light is hitting you just right, we have to get going again.” His hand traced the side of your face as he spoke, and the way he looked at you made your heart flutter.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Jamie. I don’t know what else there could be to do!” You pull him in for a hug just as a strong gust of wind hits you. He holds you close to him in such a secure way, it felt like nothing could tear you two apart. Your face buried in his neck and his hands rubbing your back, the now prominent scent of his cologne, it was all overwhelming your senses in the best way. The look in his eye when he pulled away didn’t leave any room for guessing, you knew what thought he was having and you nodded your head. There was no hesitation as he pressed his lips to yours, and you only deepened the kiss as he pulled you closer to him. Sadly, it was over sooner than you wanted it to be, his hands finding a home on your hips.

“My love, we still have to go somewhere else. Come on, it’ll be the finishing touch for tonight.” Laughter follows his words as he sees your faux pouting face. His hand grabs yours again while you walk back to his car for the 2nd time that night. You didn’t ask where he was taking you, but you trusted him with your life and knew that he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. The radio was slightly turned up for the first time that night and you saw that Jamie connected his aux. He started typing in a song and you were curious, your eyes softening as you heard the opening piano playing. “Is it a sad song? Technically yes. But I know Harry makes you happy, so I’m happy to play it for you.” A quick kiss landed on your cheek before he started driving, humming along to the song playing.

You kept looking at the areas out the window, trying to figure out where Jamie was taking you. It wasn’t until you saw the steps that you put the pieces together. Your eyes landed on Jamie as he parked the car, you could tell he was trying not to make eye contact because he didn’t want you to be upset. A quiet sigh escaped from you, and it made Jamie nearly flinch when he couldn’t figure out the meaning of it. When your hand reached over to gently turn his face in your direction, you couldn’t decipher the emotion his eyes showed. There was a mix of worry, dread, sympathy, panic, and love, and you could almost cry from seeing how nervous he was. 

“I’m not mad, baby. Not at all. I guess confused is a better term? Just didn’t think you’d want to be here.” You muttered the words more quietly than you intended, but he heard them loud and clear. He didn’t say anything back, instead getting out of the car and walking to your side as you unbuckled your seatbelt just as he made it over to you. Like earlier, he helped you out and intertwined your fingers as you made your way to the gallery entrance. Jamie pulled the key from his pocket and ignored your confused face for a second, unlocking the door and letting you in before him.

“I pulled a few strings, I had to see my beautiful girl's outstanding work.” Your heart beamed at his words for the hundredth time that night, walking behind him as he slowly approached the gold frame that still hung on the wall. “It’s absolutely magnificent, darling. There isn’t anything you can’t do.” He put an arm around your waist as you made your way over to him. You sadly couldn’t give him a more genuine smile as you remembered how you felt that night when he didn’t show up for you. The tears that spilled from you didn’t catch his attention, but the whimper that you tried to hold back did. The opportunity to turn your face away from him wasn’t an option as he turned you to fully face him.

“To say that I’m sorry is an understatement. There’s no excuse for how much of a dumbass i was. I knew this was happening, I made the plan to be here, and then it didn’t happen. I got too drunk and got a ride home, sobered up and just did my thing. Knowing that you were having a hard time, that you could’ve been having anxiety because I wasn’t there makes my heart break more every time I think about it. There will never be words to tell you how sorry I am, and I know that. Tonight wasn’t about you forgiving me, it was about me showing you how awful I felt, and still feel, about missing something that was so important and special to you. You always have been, and always will be the most important person in my life, and hearing you break down that night was one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, especially knowing I was the cause. You didn’t deserve that to happen, you only deserve the best, and I’m always going to be sorry that I caused you so much pain. The love of my life should never feel this way, my angel.” 

More tears came from you at his words, and you could see them forming in his eyes as well. His thumbs wiped away your tears gently, while one fell down his cheek. You don’t know how long you just stood in the silence, but when he pulled you in for another hug, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It was like all the stress and worry and anxiety from inside just came out at once. He didn’t stop comforting you, holding you while you shook like a leaf from crying so much. Your arms gripped him tighter, not wanting him to leave, even though you knew he wouldn’t. 

A shallow wave of relief came over him, he knew he was your safe place, and you were his. Though he couldn’t tell clearly if the tears were from how happy you were today, or if they were from you remembering how shitty you felt from the other night, he could tell the sigh you let out was from relief. Him letting you go wasn't a thought in his head at all when you hugged him even tighter, he just wanted to hold you until you felt better, until you felt whole again. If it took forever, he’d be there, after all, you were the love of his life, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

-

a/n- again, i'm so, so very sorry for how long this took me to write. i wanted to make sure it was good since it's my first ever angst/fluff fic, and taking over 2 months was never what i planned on. i hope you all enjoy it, apologies once more 🤍

taglist: @hellfire-isnt-it, @hellfirebabes, @Ima1986 (wouldn't let me tag you) if you wanna be tagged in future fics, send me your user!

[quenchiestcactusjuice99]

Y’all want a spiderverse crack idea? No? Here you go anyway

- Miles (when he’s younger) runs away; the Prowler brings him home

- Miles thinks the Prowler is a hero for a few months, his favorite color is now purple and he wants all his shirts to be themed accordingly

- He sees the Prowler fighting Spiderman and has the juxtaposition of ‘anyone fighting Spiderman is Bad’ vs ‘the Prowler saved me, he’s Good’

- He runs away again to see if the Prowler will find him (he does, eventually, and is subsequently subjected to his nephew’s puppy eyes. Miles wants to know why he was fighting Spiderman ‘cause Spiderman is Good, you can’t fight Spiderman)

- The Prowler gives a very halting, very dissatisfying answer and drops Miles at home again, but he finds himself with creeping guilt whenever he has to fight Spiderman from that day on

- Miles comes to the understanding that the Prowler Does Bad Things, but he’s still confused about why the Prowler would do a Good Thing then. This also means that Miles is too busy trying to find the answer to that question to consider that the Prowler might be dangerous

- After a few years (and a few more rescues) Miles starts calling him ‘Mister Prowler’ and knows that Prowler is a villain, but like, he’s a weirdly nice villain

- Spiderman, on the other hand, has been noticing an ever so slight decline in Prowler-related activity and viciousness

- At some point it occurs to Miles that the Prowler knew where his house was,, and also consistently finds him and delivers him home,, and he finally gets around to asking why

- Miles: hey how’d u know where my house was?? - The Prowler, panicking silently: I’m friends with your uncle

- Miles’ mind is blown, he has so many questions; the Prowler answers none of them and jumps off the roof to escape. Miles interrogates Aaron the next time he sees him and Aaron is Still Panicking so he’s absolute shit at making himself a cover

- Miles, a preteen with a theory, not unlike a dog with a bone: they know each other. They’re friends. Uncle Aaron is nervous about it. Are they... *dating?*

- The next time he sees the Prowler he shouts “you better be good to my uncle”, possibly in earshot of Spiderman

- Anyway like two weeks before the collider, Spiderman and the Prowler are having a stare-down, maybe from separate buildings

- Miles shows up like: oh hey Mister Prowler - Prowler: ...  - Spiderman: ??? - Miles: how’s my uncle? - Prowler, long since used to his nephew’s conviction that he’s dating himself, fully resigned to his fate: he’s good. Don’t you have school - Spiderman: ??????

- Spiderman has many questions. Spiderman does not get any answers. Spiderman is haunted by the knowledge that the Prowler is friends with a middle schooler

- The collider happens, kind of. In the scene right before Spiderman dies, where he and Miles are talking, the Prowler saves them both before Kingpin gets there. Kingpin is now after all three of them, but less urgently than fixing the collider

- The Prowler performs emergency first aid on a rooftop and then sends Miles back to his school bc its late. The Prowler then takes Spiderman (now unconscious) to his apartment and changes out of his Prowler outfit just in time to convince Spiderman that the Prowler dropped him off so Aaron could make sure he doesn’t drown in his own blood.

- Spiderman’s thought process happens approximately like this: the Prowler doesn’t trust anyone. The Prowler trusts this guy. The Prowler knows the uncle of That One Kid. Is this the uncle of That One Kid? Are they dating??

- Aaron is plagued by the misconception that he’s dating himself at every turn. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t even deny it because he doesn’t have a better explanation

- Aaron is reluctant to keep Spiderman in his apartment long, for obvious reasons, and this translates to Spiderman as reluctance to treat him in general

- Spiderman, literally half-dead: am I bothering you? Is this a hassle? Do you need me to leave? I can leave, I’ve got a great healing factor, I’ll be fine

- Aaron tells him to lie back down and not ruin all his hard work. He mutters something along the lines of “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

- Spiderman: look, if you don’t want to be helping me, you don’t have to. Nobody’s making you--wait, is somebody making you? Is the Prowler making you?? Are you being forced??? Are you in Trouble???? I can help

- Aaron, literally the Prowler: sit your fool ass down on that couch or so help me God

- Anyway on the way back to school Miles makes a pit stop for food, so he runs into Peter B while Peter B is also looking for food. Miles is very weirded out but like, so is Peter B. Miles explains that Spiderman (his, specifically) is kind of injured at the moment, but don’t worry, the Prowler is on it. Peter B is not comforted by this at all.

- Peter B: the Prowler? As in, the VILLAIN, the Prowler? - Miles: yea what’s your point? Mister Prowler’s not gonna hurt him, he’d be out of a job if people stopped hiring him as insurance against Spiderman

- That does not make Peter B feel any better, so they trek over to Aaron’s place and take stock of the situation: Spiderman is passed out on the couch in frankly terrible shape and Aaron is dozing with his head on the counter

- Miles: oh did Mister Prowler leave? Did he at least give you a kiss first - Peter B: ?!?!?!?!?? - Aaron, definitely not awake enough for this: Miles. Please. Shut up.

- Then he realizes there’s Another Spiderman in his house and listens to the explanation with growing exasperation and tries not to interject with anything he shouldn’t know about the collider. But it seems to him like it worked until Peter B glitches out in his kitchen and nearly gets a concussion on the edge of the counter

- So Aaron gets quasi-bullied into helping shut it down by promising to get the Prowler on it. Peter B is skeptical of his chances of success. And that’s how the Prowler ends up helping destroy the collider with the rest of the spiders!

- Everybody ends up convinced Aaron is dating the Prowler. Jeff tries to scold him about getting in over his head. The only ones who don’t immediately accept it are Rio and Aunt May, who smile very mischievously and definitely know what’s up

Bonus-- Peter B: I could swear that in my dimension, you never dated anyone named ‘Aaron’ Prowler: I could swear that in my dimension, you were skinny Peter B: ... I can take a hint

[slttygeto]

I’m getting my septum pierced and was wondering if you’d be able to write about possibly Suguru calming his s/o down before getting it done? Possibly holding their hand while getting it done?

I’m getting nervous bc it’s the biggest nose piercing I’m getting (although I have both my nostrils pierced) and I also can’t stop thinking about Suguru having a septum as well 🤧✨❤️

I also love your blog. Like A LOT.

synopsis: tattooed and pierced! suguru (honestly that's how i see him in general especially the tattoos) calms you down by showing you his own piercing and being an amazing boyfriend<3

featuring: geto suguru, reader has 2 piercings and is called pretty once! tell me if it bothers you

warning: none

reblogs are appreciated!!

navigation

author's note: tysm for ur support!!!

to say that you were nervous was an understatement

this wasn't ur first time getting pierced, you knew your way around it

yet seeing how ur boyfriend rocked the septum piercing made u a lil bit nervous

was it gonna hurt more than the other two that you have? was it going to hurt less?

fortunately for you, or maybe unfortunately who knows, suguru could tell that you were going to pass out the moment you two arrived at the place

"pretty, listen to me, it's just a piercing look," to assure you that things were going to be okay and that it really didn't hurt as much, he played with his piercing, throwing his head back with a laugh when you looked away, even more terrified.

"c'mon, you're gonna make us proud, we can do this," guiding you inside the place like a parent and you weren't even embarrassed

held your hand throughout the entire process, literally a gentleman 🥺 pls i wanna marry him so bad this isn't funny anymore

gives the back of ur hand small caresses and wipes the lil tears escaping your eyes with his thumb.

"almost done, almost," talks instead of the piercer. he knows they make you nervous so looking at him helps you a lot.

when you're done he takes u out to eat your favorite food!!! because hes so proud of you and wants you to know that such a huge step deserves to be celebrated <33!!!!

[scuttling]

Trophy Husband

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,188 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Dry humping, Unprotected sex, a lil Daddy kink Summary: Requested by anon: “maybe some dad bod hotch smut? like where he’s newly retired and hasn’t been working out as much and the reader worships his body bc he’s been feeling a little insecure” I love some dad bod Hotch, so happy to fill this request! Link to A03 or read below!

“No, we’re not doing forced overtime again. If you want my team to put out more consults, then we need to hire more profilers.” You walk through your front door and into the kitchen, smiling when you see Aaron standing over the stove, holding a wooden spoon and stirring something that smells amazing. “With all due respect, I’m not concerned about the budget, sir; if my people are as valuable as you stated, then I expect them to be taken care of.”

Aaron looks back at you, wrinkles his nose, and you make a motion with your hands—blah, blah, blah—which makes him chuckle.

“I agree completely, sir. That’s a great idea. If you send down the requisitions tomorrow, I’ll start interviewing on Monday. No, thank you. Good night.” You lock your phone, set your bag on the stool closest to you, and sigh. “Was it this hard to get stuff done when you were the unit chief?”

“No, it’s definitely harder now, but you make it look easy. And sexy,” he says with a smirk, and you walk over to him; he offers a taste of what he’s making—it looks like paella, and your stomach rumbles—and you lean in to take a bite off of the spoon, looking up at him and flicking your tongue over your lips. His eyes get dark.

Even after ten years of marriage, he’s so easy to get going, it’s almost unfair.

“Delicious, daddy, thank you.” You stand up fully, and he turns back to the stove; your arms wrap easily around his waist, cheek pressed to the soft, worn t-shirt that covers his back. “How was your day? Are you still enjoying the life of a trophy husband?” He snorts, muscles tensing enough that you can feel it where you rest.

“Hardly.” He was in such a good mood a moment ago that this feels like a complete 180; profiler or not, you know your husband, and something’s on his mind. You tighten your embrace, and he shrugs you off a little, and that is practically unheard of. You stand, take a step back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t getting bored of retirement already, are you? It’s only been six months.” He sighs, shakes his head. You’re sure you look confused.

“No, retirement is fine; it’s great, actually, it’s not that.” Typical Aaron, always making you drag this shit out of him. For being so sweet and kind, he’s still not that great at being open, even though you make every effort to encourage it.

“What is it, sweetheart? Something is obviously bothering you; we should talk about it.” Another deep exhale, and he turns off the burner, moves the pan of food off of the heat, and turns to face you fully.

“I imagine you already know.” You shake your head, shrug, and he gestures to himself, to his body. You feel stupid, like there’s something you’re missing.

“Aaron, love of my life, I don’t have any idea what this means.” You mimic his previous motion, and he rolls his eyes, which you can’t stand, and he’s well aware of that. “You’ve got to give me more than that, or I can’t help.”

“You can’t help, it just… is.” He sighs, and his shoulders deflate. You move closer, to touch him, comfort him, but he takes a step back. “I know I’m not the ‘trophy husband’ you probably expected me to be. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

You do your best to put together these cryptic sentences, the hand gesture, and when realization finally dawns on you, you can’t help it: you laugh.

Aaron turns away, and you know that was shitty, feel instantly terrible, so you reach out to put a gentle hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just… you don’t think you’re hot anymore?” He turns to face you, looking at you like he’s tired of your shenanigans, which… after this long, he should be plenty used to them, so the look does nothing for you.

“I’ve gotten… soft, I think that’s obvious.” At that, you smirk a little, move your hands to the button on his jeans.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything soft about you, Aaron. Why don’t you let me put your cock in my mouth, and we’ll check again.”

“You wanted me to talk, I’m talking.” His tone is a little admonishing, and you kind of deserve it, so you stop being horny for a second and take a deep breath.

“You’re right. Sorry. So… you’re exercising less, because obviously you don’t need to be as fit anymore, since you’re not working. Am I following?” He nods his head. “Okay, and you’re feeling… insecure about the way your body looks now, because of it.”

“Yes. Especially when you, Unit Chief Hotchner, are kicking ass and looking fucking delicious doing it, and then you have to come home to me.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in you, at those words. Oh hell no.

“Hold on here. I don’t have to come home to you, I get to come home to you; every night I do, it’s like a dream come true, and on the nights I don’t get to come home to you, I dream about it. I dream about being in your arms—strong arms, always, even if they’re less defined—and I dream about making love to you and fucking you and everything in between. You: not the Aaron of two months ago or six months ago or five years ago. You.”

He looks your face over—you’re getting fired up and you know it, and it turns him on and you also know that—and then the two of you come together for a deep, desperate kiss. Your hands fist in his hair, his roughly grab your ass, and when you pull back for air he turns you so you’re bent over the counter, searches for the zipper of your skirt.

“No!” He freezes, then steps back, and you stand up, flushed. “I’m sorry, not no—just, not here.” He blows out a breath, and you kiss him softly, sorry you scared him. “It’s just that… I want to lay you back on our bed, completely naked, and I want to put my mouth and my hands on you, everywhere. I want you to see what your body does to me, exactly as it is right now. I get that that might make you feel a little vulnerable, but will you let me?” You press your lips to his again, put your hands gently on his face. “Let me, baby.”

He nods, and you take his hand, take him to your bedroom. He’s visibly nervous, so you move his hands to your body, let him strip you naked first. He always takes pleasure in this, whether he is ripping the buttons off your favorite blouse or softly mouthing at your thighs while he drags your panties down your legs, and tonight is no exception.

“So beautiful, baby,” he murmurs as he finds that zip and drags it down, helping you step out of the skirt. You kick off your heels, and he unbuttons your top—carefully, tonight—then unhooks your bra, pulls you close and kisses your neck and chest so deliciously you almost forget what brought you here.

You lick your lips, shake yourself from the haze of submission you always feel when his mouth is at your throat, and your hands flick open the button of his jeans, tug down the zipper, guide his pants to the floor. He steps out of them, and you kiss his mouth.

Your hands move up, to the hem of his t-shirt, but you do nothing. He smirks, pulls it over his head, because he knows you love that hot guy way of pulling a t-shirt off with one hand, and he happens to be a master of it. You do your best not to drool.

“Mmm. You know exactly what I like, Aaron. There’s nobody in this world who could turn me on like you, who could get me off like you.” He licks his lips, and you get on your knees, running your hands down his body as you go. “Toes to nose, you are exactly who and what I want. Don’t ever forget that.”

You start low, press your lips to the tops of his feet, then his ankles, his calves, his knees. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, but you keep moving up, slowly, until your hands find the waistband of his underwear and you pull them down. His cock springs up—this in particular is never a problem, no matter his age—and you kiss up his thighs and then rise to stand.

“Baby,” he breathes, and you lean up for a kiss, drop your panties. He grabs a fistful of your hair, takes another, rougher kiss, then releases you; you’re panting hard, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. God, he’s good. How could he ever doubt his sex appeal when he makes you this much of a horny, eager mess with just a kiss?

You guide him back to the bed because he’s too tall for you to reach everywhere standing up; you start at his right wrist, kiss your way to the crook of his elbow, over his biceps, to his shoulder. You trail your lips over his collarbone, his throat, pausing to nibble on his earlobes, to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“I love you so much, Aaron. You are and always will be perfect in my eyes. I barely even notice when you’re being a dick anymore,” you joke, and he laughs; steamy and sexy is really good, but it’s your favorite when he laughs.

You kiss down the other side of his neck, down his arm, but this time you bring his hand up and suck on his middle and ring fingers, taking them so deeply you can flick your tongue over his wedding ring. He groans, you groan, it’s really hot. Your pussy throbs.

“Fuck, baby.” You pull them out of your mouth with an innocent smile, and then straddle his legs, leaning forward to suck and bite kisses all over his stomach and hips, avoiding his cock altogether. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” he breathes, reaching for your hair, and you slide your arms up his chest, squeeze the muscles there that are softer, but still present, while you kiss wetly along his belly.

“Mmm,” you moan while you kiss, because you’re kind of… lined up tight against his thigh, and it feels really good.

You keep kissing, all over, sloppy, eager kisses, rubbing his chest and grinding against his thigh, and it’s a surprise to you both when you come, looking up at him with your mouth open and your nails digging into his skin.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh when you’re done—there’s no sugarcoating this—humping his leg, and he licks his lips, wraps his hands around your arms, and maneuvers you on onto your back, slides his cock easily inside you where you’re wet and warm. “Yes, Aaron.”

“Oh, baby. Fuck, I love you,” he groans, and he laces your fingers with his and tucks his face against your neck. You love when he gets like this, so desperate to come but so soft, so loving, and you squeeze him with your legs, push your body into his thrusts.

“Like that, honey, just like that,” you breathe, mouthing at his shoulder, your free hand clutching at his back. “Come inside me, daddy; pin me with your big body like you always do and come inside me. Love it, want it, need it.”

He moans into your throat, works his hips harder, faster, and you hold him when he comes, smoothing your palm over his skin. He looks down at you, and love shines in his eyes just like always; your heart melts a little. That’s something you’ll never get tired of seeing as long as you live.

He pulls out, replaces his cock with his fingers and brings you to orgasm again, still looking into your eyes, and he catches your last gasping moan with his lips.

You’re both tired after that, not as young as you used to be, and you pull him on top of your body again, a warm, reassuring weight; underneath him is your favorite place to be, always has been, always will be.

“Trophy husband,” you coo in his ear, scraping fingers through his hair. He chuckles softly, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“Badass wife.”

“Mm hmm, and don’t you forget it.” After a couple minutes, your stomach rumbles, and Aaron climbs off of you, returns with the whole pan of paella, two spoons, and a bottle of white wine. “No glasses?” you ask, teasing, sitting up against the pillows, and he shakes his head, wrinkles his nose.

“Nah, I like it better this way. My lips where your lips have been.” He leans in for a soft, slow, sultry kiss, and you sigh when it’s over, lean your head against his shoulder, and smile.

❤️ Taglist: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix

[yesimwriting]

hiii, this might seem weird but do u have any head cannons for when the reader is pregnant and how the Darkling would react?

a/n love this concept,, it's not weird at all!! i feel like there's so much here!! also i leave for college this month and im lowkey starting to freak out so ive been watching star wars movies for comfort 😭and now i have half a mind to write for them, especially the prequels (cough, cough,, anakin) 😭 😭 that should tell you where i am mentally

anyways lets get into the headcanons:))

--

- okay so like most of my headcanons, this is probably going to be all over the place bc i feel like so many different things could change how he would react. Like if the darkling x reader have been trying to get pregnant, or an unplanned pregnancy with someone he really likes, i also think whether or not the reader is a grisha affects his reaction too

- in general though, i think he'd lowkey have a breeding kink he'd def find something about the thought of you having his child really attractive bc for one thing, he wouldn't have to worry about being left alone and now he has an excuse to be a real 'protector'.

- also if youve read my other headcanons i am 100000% convinced that he has this thing where if he really likes someone he needs them to need him (let's all remember the whole 'i will strip you of everything you know and love speech until I'm your only shelter' speech he gave to Alina)

- also i kinda want to write a fic or blurb series or something that's just the darkling being super toxic in super thoughtful ways LMAO if that makes sense, like he's being super sweet but it's to make sure the reader is dependent on him

- and he def wants to be the protector to give himself some sense of assurance bc he's so desperate to not be alone anymore and bc the reader is the only person he has/loves, he wants to feel in control and like he's the less attached one

- okay,, let's get back to the pregnancy thing, anyways, your pregnancy is most definitely activating all of those senses and this was meant to be a sub plot but it kind of became it's own thing lol

- so lets get to the actual pregnancy reaction

if you two have been trying to get pregnant:

- when you tell him, he kind of like, pauses bc it's not every day that he gets surprised so it takes him a moment to register that he's experiencing shock lol, so he tenses and goes islent

- and then after he realizes that he's surprised and that it's bc of a good thing, he manages to relax

- meanwhile you're kind of freaking out bc he got so quiet?? you start to wonder if he's regretting ever wanting a child with you? and you're like two seconds away from a downspiral and then he...

- he touches your cheek and looks at you in a way you've never seen him look at anyone,, not even you

- the look is so warm and strong and full of fierce admiration that you feel foolish for ever thinking he didn't want this. And then he says something about how you're carrying his child and how he didn't realize he could adore you more and then he kisses you and it's all :)) warm:)

- he doesn't want anyone to know that he's expecting a child as long as possible bc of how many enemies he has and how he has to worry about you enough when people just know that you're his 'lover' (a title you never really liked, but one he tells you is necessary to make sure no one realizes the extent of his attachment)

- if you really want to tell your mother or someone of that relation, he won't be mad about it, but he just needs to know

- Genya is the only exception bc the darkling basically instructs her to look out for you,, but when you tell her she's like oh?? you guys just found out?

- miss girl most definitely noticed like a day and a half ago after you cried bc she couldn't find you ice cream the other night 😭and she just assumed you knew but weren't ready to tell anyone

- okay so this what i think is his most problematic expecting father trait would be. So i just ranted about how important secrecy would be to him but he's also the most overprotective person in the entire world,, like he was bad before but once he knows your with child?? yeah, if a man asks you about the weather, he's done for

- he's next to you in a second, ordering either you or the man to do some asinine task

- if you get mad about this (rightfully so) or even just point out how nothing is wrong and you having a casual conversation with a man who isn't even looking at you sexually won't hurt you or the baby, he'll lose rationality

- it depends on how much you push, but it'd be super easy to make him super possessive bc like i said, being bonded by a child has made him so much more intense (and he was pretty intense before)

- and if you push too much he'll lowkey forget about how cautious he's trying to be with you and pin you against the nearest wall and say something along the lines of 'are you already forgetting you're mine? that i own you, body and soul--is my child growing in you not enough of a reminder? because i'll give you another one if you need it.' (AH--i want to write a whole fic based on this line)

- also if the reader is grisha, especially if she's a sun summoner/special grisha like him, he def talks about the power that they've created and how proud he already is and how he can't wait to train together and be the most powerful family in the world

- not everything is perfectly happy though, bc now he feels more pressure to complete his plan and establish the world he wants his child to be born into

- so sometimes when he's working extra hard or is extra aggressive for no reason, you have to work at calming him down and reminding him that the best thing he can do for his child is be there for them (and the child's mother,, lol)

- sometimes he'll respond by actually listening to you and trying to make up for his absence or his aggression by being extra soft until you finally forgive him

- you never last that long, it's hard to be mad at him when he's coddling you and whispering such sweet things about he's so happy to have you and your future child

- overall, his first reaction is to swell with emotion, which he isn't used to, and so he becomes super protective but also extra lovey and you know that his overreactions are just him trying to show that he cares about you and your future child more than anything

If the pregnancy was unplanned:

- the initial reaction is pretty similar, only his state of shock lasts longer

- like i said at the beginning, he's not used to being surprised and an accidental pregnancy is so much more surprising than a planned pregnancy

- this really sucks for you bc he's not exactly known for his patience so you just kinda sit there and genuinely wonder if you're going to be a single mom or if you're going to want to deletus the fetus or something

- but then he takes a step towards you and you see how he's looking at you and you just know that that fierceness has to mean something good

- and at this point you're scared and nervous and feel so alone so tears are pricking at your eyes,, so he wipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away tears you won't let spill

- he then whispers something really sweet about how you two are now together forever, as you should be

- it's really relieving bc you felt so alone and uncertain and he's such a smooth speaker that by the end of the night, you feel like this is a good thing

- if youre still hesitant/weighing your options, he's not above trying to (gently) manipulate you into thinking that what he wants may be the only way

- by that,, i don't mean outright tricking you bc he means everything he says, but he def is pushing the keeping the baby agenda,, especially if you're a grisha,, and even more so if you're a grisha with similar power levels to him

- he won't get angry at first bc he's not so out of touch that he's unaware of how shocking a pregnancy is to a woman who wasn't planning one,, but his patience is limited and if you fight it too much he will get mad and yell

- but unless you really don't want to have a child, it won't get to that bc he makes the idea of having a baby with him sound so perfect?? like you genuinely don't understand how he did that

- he chases away all of your worries and assures you that youre not alone and that even though it isn't planned he wouldn't rather anyone else carry his child

- the initial conversation would probably end in you two sleeping together again bc he finds the fact that you're carrying his child so attractive and bc being aware of the pregnancy makes him more possessive

- it's also a good way to fight any of your doubts

- speaking of being possessive though,, i feel like he could be a little more possessive/protective of a reader who didn't plan on getting pregnant bc your relationship has been less established

- no one sees you as anything to him and he doesn't want to start rumors now bc it's important to him that his enemies don't find out about you or his future child so he doesn't want that to change

- but he almost forgets about all of those reasons each time he sees a man get a little too close,, especially if that guy is flirty

- it takes all of his will power to not just go 'she's mine and if i wasn't worried about the stress that witnessing something violent would cause our unborn child, you'd be dead already, but if you're not gone by the time i turn around, i'll forget about caution'

- lots of close calls ngl!! at one point youre like 'if it bothers you so much, maybe you should tell someone??' and he's like 'no,, maybe,, shut up' and then you raise one eyebrow and he just closes his mouth and is like 'i mean,, i'll kiss you to shut you up, haha--dont be mad'

- youre the one that's pregnant but sometimes you think he might be the one experiencing the mood swings i swear 😭

- so your little theory gets tested,, he's not the type to gossip with his besties and be like 'guess who's officially my girlfriend, i knocked her up but it's not like it sounds--'

- so he's like ig you can tell genya

- once again genya is like ?? yall thought you were keeping that secret? couldn't be me

- but having it a little out in the open helps ease him just enough that youre actually capable of consoling him when he becomes jealous

- still though,, he's quick to go into possessive/pregnancy kink sex

- youre most def not mad about it,, unless pregnancy has you particularly sore

- he's normally pretty understanding about that and def doesn't mind pulling his weight in the bedroom when he needs

- honestly he'd be really good at being a source of calmness at the beginning, but as time goes on he becomes more and more worried about finishing his plans bc he didn't expect to have a child right now

- so he'd be more adamant about working/becoming more tense and would be more difficult to console if it was an accidental pregnancy

- when you call him out on it--or on anything while your pregnant--it's frustrating for you both bc the number one thing everyone knows is stress is bad for baby, so he's trying to keep you calm without backing down

- these argument always end with one of you clinging to the other,, and then the more angrier of the two just like shuts up, rolls their eyes, and lets go of the argument...at least for now

- the main difference between an accidental and intentional pregnancy would probably be how you perceive him,, bc an intentional pregnancy means youve talked about things but since you havent talked about anything your shocked about how soft he becomes ??

[bucksangel]

Guiding Light Pt. 1

Pairing: Hank Loza x Reader (no descreption of body type or race is mentioned)

Summary: It's time, Hank decides, to finally ask you out, and he's praying upon every God that exists that you say 'yes'.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: mention of injury and blood (the reader cuts their hand accidentally), hank also likes to bake and I will die on this hill, Hank being nervous, fluff out the ass

part 1 part 2 part 3

Tip Jar

a/n: hank loza is my husband and if anyone has any requests they'd like to send in, feel free to send me an ask!

tag list: @melaniecraig80 @withmyteeth (i’m tagging you bc you’re my biggest support and ily)

Posting new fics over on @michaelirby

“You okay, Hank?”

The question goes in one of his ears and straight out of the other, it’s like he’s stopped listening to anything all together. If Hank was being honest, he truly didn’t register your question, he’s too far in his own head. About you, no less. Now, that’s definitely not a bad thing, but it feels… wrong. Sure, you’re a little younger than him, but that’s not what really bothers him. No, it’s the fact that you’re his friend (he’d even go as far to say you’re his best friend), and he can’t shake the thoughts of wanting more, wanting you to himself.

It’s frustrating, kind of. Hank loves being your friend, he cherishes the dynamic you have, but god does he want more. You’re kind and beautiful and head-strong and it was so easy for Hank to fall for you. And although he in no way would ever pressure you to be with him, he just can’t help thinking about if you were together. What if you do like him? What if he could call you his? What if he was yours?

He’s getting too ahead of himself, though. He hasn’t even asked you out, nor has he told you about his feelings. But, again, he’s too far in his own head, thinking himself to death over what could be. It’s not until a hand, soft and chilled due to holding a beer, rests on his forearm that Hank whips his head to his right where you’re sitting on the couch, facing him.

“Are you okay? You spaced out for a minute,” You say, smiling. It takes his breath away with how effortlessly you make him nervous, giddy, happy even. His heartbeat picks up a tad more when you swing your legs up to lay over his lap.

You two have always been close like this, and Hank suspects it’s because you’re like this with a lot of people (not a lot of people actually, but he pretends so as to not get his hopes up). Resting a large and warm hand on your calf, he massages the area gently while laughing softly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking,” Hank smiles back at you and squeezes your shin. And there must be something in the way he spoke, or maybe it was his demeanor, but you don’t push further. He’s glad for that, he’s not ready to tell you about his feelings nor is he good at lying to you.

“Okay,” You whisper, nodding your head a tad before leaning your head to the side to rest against the couch cushion. Curious and loving eyes stare back at Hank, and he holds your gaze for what feels like an hour. Realistically it may have been only a minute, but he tends to get lost when he’s looking at you, like he can’t comprehend that you actually enjoy his company.

The story you were telling earlier gets brought back up again and Hank doesn’t hear a word of it. He nods and smiles every once in a while, but he knows that you can tell he’s not all the way here. You keep talking anyway, and Hank is thankful for the excuse to focus on you completely, and he thinks he wants to live in this moment forever, to keep you on his couch, in his arms, talking about anything and everything.

The night eventually ends, though, and as always, both of you are disappointed to be parting ways. It has to be done, seeing as you both have too many obligations tomorrow to be talking the night away. The only good thing about parting ways, Hank thinks, is how you hug him. It’s different than how you greet him, those are typically quicker and with excitement of seeing each other again. These hugs, the goodbye hugs, are a little longer, more intimate. Hank’s arms are wrapped tight around your body, his chin resting on your head, and he thinks of how perfectly you fit in his arms, how you were made to be in his arms.

As per your goodbye ritual, when you pull away from each other you lean up to place a soft kiss to his cheek. And just like every time you kiss his cheek, his face flushes and warmth fills his body.

You pull back, dragging your hand down his arm before fully pulling away to go to your car. Included in this goodbye ritual is Hank walking you to your car with his hand resting gently on your back while you fiddle with your fingers. Your car is parked all the way across the lot (and Hank is very grateful for the extra minute that walk provides), so you’re able to talk a little while longer. Except, tonight you walk to the car in silence, something (tension, maybe) hangs in the air.

When you do get to your car, you’re slow to turn around and face Hank, a nervous smile on your lips and something akin to anxiousness in your eyes. Hank continues to smile at you, that same soft, warm smile that seems to only be for you. His hand moves from your back to squeeze your hip before dropping his hand all together.

And Hank feels something blooming in his chest, an incredibly strong want, a need, to pour his entire heart out to you. It’s almost overwhelming, this is the right time, he thinks, now or never. This feeling spreads throughout his entire body, enough so that he opens his mouth to speak. It just so happens that you move to speak at the same time as well.

“I wanted-”

“I need to-”

Both of you laugh, the nerves still ever present. Hank makes a bold move by grabbing your hand in his, rubbing the back of your hand as he says, “Ladies first.”

This makes you laugh and lightly slap his chest with your free hand. He sees hesitancy on your face and Hank is sure you’re about to drop some kind of bomb on him. Instead, it’s a nervous, “I should be getting home.” And Hank’s heart sinks into his stomach, the one time he mans up enough to actually tell you and you’re leaving before he gets that chance.

“Of course. Goodnight, querida,” He whispers, nodding his head as he drops your hand to open your car door for you. But you stop him before he moves to the side to let you into your car.

You place another kiss on Hank's cheek, but this time you linger a little longer, pulling back a millimeter or so to whisper, “Goodnight, Hank.”

Hank’s eyes close, his heart hammers in his chest so fast that he thinks he might actually pass out. Suddenly, he’s warm all over, the feeling of your body pressed against his, no matter how brief, is something he’ll never get used to.

And then, you’re gone, driving into the night towards your home, leaving Hank to stare into space wishing on every star that he’ll get another chance.

_________

It’s the next evening and Hank is at his mother’s for their weekly Sunday dinner. Tonight, he’s working on seasoning up some steaks while his mother works on the rice and vegetables that would accompany it. They chatter about nonsense while they work in tandem, his mother slapping his arm every so often when he picks up a wrong seasoning.

He’ll admit, he’s a little spacey tonight. The night before is still so clear in his head, the way your lips felt against his cheek still sends shivers down his spine and brings a smile to his face. Maybe he’s a little too spacey, though, because the third time Hank goes for the wrong spice his mother says, “It’s that girl again, isn’t it?”

Hank’s head shoots up from where he’d been staring intensely at the meat. With the smirk on her face and the glint in her eyes, he knows he’s been caught. Not only can he not lie to you, he definitely can’t lie to his mother (partly out of respect, partly out of fear). So, slowly, he nods his head, his face heating up while he goes out back to put the meat on the grill, desperately trying to avoid the conversation that his mother wants to have.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks, following him outside, determined to get through to her son. The exasperation in her tone makes it clear she’s been keeping up with the situation and is just as frustrated as her son that he hasn’t done anything about it.

“We’re just friends, mama,” He mumbles, and he feels like a teenager again, having his mother encourage him to make the move on the girl he likes. And just like every time before, he knows she’ll win this fight.

“We both know that isn’t true,” She scoffs in disbelief, lightly hitting Hank’s arm so he would look at her. “You like her. She likes you. I don’t really see the problem here.”

“She doesn’t…” Hank trails off, his head filled with doubt at his mothers words. “She doesn’t like me like that, and I’m okay with that. I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship because I can’t control my feelings.” The pain in his heart swells, but he pushes them down so he can smile at his mother, hoping to convince her to drop the subject.

She stares him down for a minute, her eyes squinting in thought before she smiles wide. “You were going to tell her yesterday, weren’t you?”

Hank groans, genuinely confused at how well his mother can be this intuitive (as a boy, he used to think his mother could read minds and he’s still not totally convinced that she can’t). His head tilts back so he can look at the sky, momentarily wishing this wasn’t happening right now. But, since it is, he looks back down to his mother and nods sheepishly.

“Well,” She starts, making Hank groan internally, “If you mustered up the courage to try last night then you can do it again tomorrow.” And Hank’s already shaking his head, adamant that he doesn’t think he can. Another slap lands on his arm, and his mother places her hands to cup her son’s cheeks. “Mijo, if you don’t do something about this, then I will.”

And that’s the end of that discussion, Hank knows full well that his mother would, in fact, do something about it and it would end in her embarrassing him. So he resigns himself to nodding.

“Good, now finish up, I’m hungry.” She turns quickly and walks back into the house to continue preparing the sides.

“Yes, mama,” Hank says, a million thoughts running through his head as to how in the world he’s going to do this.

__________

Now, it’s not entirely unusual for Hank to show up at your door on a Monday, nor is it out of the ordinary for him to come unexpectedly, but today is different. His palms are sweaty and his heart is hammering in his chest as he walks up to your porch. He’s stood still for a minute, thinking of all the different ways tonight could go wrong. What if you say no? What if you kick him out? What if he loses you forever?

It’s ridiculous, Hank knows this. No matter how you feel about him, he knows you’d never push him out of your life. Still, the thought lingers in the back of his head. And before he can psych himself out of tonight, he knocks on your door. His breathing has stopped for the full thirty seconds it takes you to open your door, and it’s stopped for another thirty seconds as he takes you in.

Donned in a flowery summer dress and a light red apron, you smile wide when your eyes land upon Hank. He wrings his hands as he smiles back at you, but quickly lets them drop and wrap around you when you step forward to hug him.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” You exclaim squeezing his body tight to yours before stepping back and ushering him into your house.

“I know,” Hank says, volume a little louder than a whisper. “I was in the area so I wanted to stop by, if that’s okay.” Internally, he cringes. In the area is a poor and cliché excuse, but he’d only prepared for his confession, not for how or why he’s here at seven pm on a Monday.

It makes you chuckle, probably because you’re thinking the same thing. “Don’t be silly, you know I enjoy being with you.” You’re leading him into the kitchen with your back turned to him (and you’re thankful for that so he wouldn’t have seen the embarrassed look on your face because of your phrasing).

Hearing you affirm that you do enjoy his company brings a whole new kind of warmth to spread throughout his chest. He knows that tonight is going to be the night, he’d be damned to let anything get in the way.

“I was about to make some brownies if you want to help, I’ve already eaten dinner but there’s leftovers in the fridge that you’re welcome to.” You move towards the counter where, even though you haven’t even started baking, flour has somehow spilled onto it. Hank takes you in, your hair pulled back out of your face and your eyes scanning the instructions on your phone with such concentration that it makes him laugh.

After about a minute of watching you struggle with which ingredients to mix first, Hank walks to your side and leans over your shoulder to read the directions himself. They’re simple enough for him to understand (and he will never let his brother’s find out, but he does enjoy baking from time to time), so he reaches around you to grab the flour and measuring cup.

You turn your head to look back at him with a puzzling look, and Hank doesn’t miss the way your lips quirk up into a small smile. “What are you doing there?” You ask, humor evident in your tone.

“I’m a baking connoisseur,” He laughs, but lets it fade slowly as he realizes the proximity between you two. He’s nearly pressed into your side, one arm reaching around you to hold onto the flour, and his hand resting on your back so as to not jostle you with his movements.

Both of you go silent, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing shallowly while tension slowly encompasses your living space. For a brief moment, Hank swears he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips before quickly snapping back to his own eyes.

This tension is broken a moment later, you smile at him and nudge his stomach with your elbow, nodding towards the ingredients. “Okay then Mr. Baking Connoisseur, show me what you got.”

And then, Hank is measuring and pouring and mixing, all while you watch and listen to him explain the steps to follow in order to make, in his words, ‘the best brownies you’ll ever eat’. You’re watching him carefully, handing him the ingredients as he needs them, and smiling at how passionate he seems to be. It’s beautiful, really, to see how much joy something as simple as baking can bring him. You can tell he’s not the most comfortable in this situation, but you chalk it up to him not liking being this vulnerable (which is a lie, he wears his heart on his sleeve for only you to see).

After the batter is mixed and the pans are greased, you both place the two batches of brownies in the oven and set your sights on cleaning up the mess you’ve made (the mess he made, you hardly did anything but admire him). In tandem, both of you clean the counters and put the ingredients in their respective spots, and Hank realizes that this right here, this level of understanding and flow, is where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be with you doing the most mundane and domestic activities while you chatter about your day.

Hank feels what he felt on Saturday, the overwhelming need to kiss you and profess his love. This momentum is quickly squashed because a split second after you’d just moved the dishes to the sink, you’re crying out in pain and holding your hand close to your chest. Hank can see a small amount of blood trickle down your wrist, so he surges forward and moves your hand under the running water, making sure to put pressure on your wound.

“What happened, amor?” Due to the severity of the situation, Hank doesn’t even register the pet name he let slip, he’s more focused on getting your hand to stop bleeding.

“Um, I-” You stutter, yelling out again when he presses harder. The blood flow has slowed down though, so that’s a plus. “I put the dishes in the sink and I - I think I cut my hand on the knife that was still in there.” And now you’re cursing yourself for not cleaning those dishes before you’d started baking.

“It’s okay, just keep your hand there while I find a bandage,” Then he’s off, running into your bathroom to get the first-aid kit he insisted you put under the sink (because lord knows you’re too clumsy for your own good). When he does get back, your hand is still under the water and he can see tears pooling in your eyes, presumably from the pain.

Hank freezes for a moment, too overwhelmed with the need to comfort you, to hold you in his arms and take away any pain you’ve ever felt. But he shakes those thoughts from his head so he can pull your hand towards him. The bleeding has now almost completely stopped, but that doesn’t stop Hank from rubbing a small amount of soap around the area and washing that off so he can wrap a bandage around your hand.

You’ve calmed down now, the shock from cutting your hand fades away as you stare up at Hank, who is securing the bandage in place. He’s focused, and very careful to not hurt you anymore than you already are. Something in him tells him to look up, and he’s met with your warm and inviting gaze and your mouth parted slightly.

Everything seems to go silent around you, the sound of running water fades into the background as you both stare into each other’s eyes, Hank’s hands encompassing your wounded one and cradled against his chest. It’s all too much, this overwhelming need to kiss you, to kiss you with so much passion and care and love, that it almost breaks his heart that he can’t.

“Queri-” Hank is cut off by you pushing against him, your wounded hand clutching his and your good hand grasping his arm so you can angle your head up and press your lips to his.

He’s floored, utterly and completely astounded at your boldness, and at the fact that you’ve done all the hard work for him. Now he doesn’t have to wonder about how you feel about him, he doesn’t have to worry himself to death over the what if’s, because now you’re kissing him. And then, he’s kissing you back, his lips parting and moving against yours with such synchronicity that it’s amazing you haven’t done this before.

One large and warm hand cups the back of your neck, not squeezing, just resting and pressing you further into him so he can part his mouth and tease your lips with his tongue. This causes you to whimper into his mouth and pull him closer, and god Hank has never heard a sound more beautiful than the ones you emit while completely entranced in the way he tastes.

Breaking away too soon for his liking, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing a little labored due to how winded the kiss made him. With his eyes still closed, maybe because he’s afraid to look at you in fear that you do reject him, he speaks softly, “Could I take you out?”

“Like, a date?” You ask, voice timid and slightly shaky as you pull back so you can look at him, really look at him. With your close proximity, Hank can feel how fast your heart is beating, he can see how your eyes glimmer, and he can feel the love surrounding you both.

Hank chuckles softly, nodding his head as he speaks, “Yeah, exactly like a date.” Your smile grows wide, your eyes crinkle, and your good hand travels up his arm to cradle his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek.

You lean against him once more and press your lips to his. This kiss is soft and chaste, your lips hovering over his as you whisper, “Of course I will.”

[spencersawkward]

top shelf//MGG - part 1

summary: broke and having a bad day, Reader runs into Matthew outside a café. after a couple encounters, his financial support and friendship become something more.

word count: 3k

content warnings: swearing but nothing else!

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

A/N: hi! welcome to my new series. i don’t think this will be super long in terms of parts, but i’ll try to update as frequently as possible for you all. this chapter is pretty expositional, so i’m sorry in advance lol. also i know i made it short but lmk if you want them to be longer. also shoutout my sweet sweet angels @reidsconverse and @voidsfilm bc i would literally cry without both of you. also THANK YOU to @dr-spencerr-reidd for this concept bc i probably wouldn't have written it without your ask!! sending hugs :)

you throw your phone down on the passenger seat with a frustrated groan. after everything that's happened today, you're now stuck on a congested street with your car barely inside the parking spot alongside the sidewalk.

your screen sits there beside you, blank and unresponsive, and you know you're going to have to go inside the coffee shop to ask to use their phone and call Triple A. of course it's not working because nothing is working today. you might as well just sit in your car and cry.

but you can't, because you have a huge project for work that you need to get done by next week, and you've already procrastinated enough. a red glow from the headlights of other cars on the street shine through your windows like melted wax, distorted by the rain. it's been pouring all day.

bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grab the old umbrella from the foot well of the passenger seat and open the door of your car. the torrents hit your body like a wall of ice, soaking you as you try to get to the safety of the café. the umbrella helps a little, but then you get to the overhang and have to actually close it before you head inside.

your fingertips slip around the metal, trying to shove the thing closed while water drips off the bridge of your nose. it's frustrating. your footsteps are still determined as they move towards the entrance, but you're distracted by the stubborn nature of the object, so you don't see the man walking out.

it's not even a bodily collision, really. it's so much worse: the sopping material of the umbrella pokes him in the stomach, knocking the hot cup of coffee all over his sweater.

your eyes widen.

"oh my fucking god, I'm so sorry--" you stutter over your words, completely at a loss. his face is twisted up in an expression of concealed pain. it can't feel good to have hot coffee seeping through your clothes after being prodded by a piece of metal. you move your wet hair out of your face in order to look at him full-on.

"it's fine, really." he gives you what's supposed to be a friendly smile, but looks more like a grimace. your stomach twists; he's hot. like, if you saw him at the bar you would stare at him all night kind of hot.

"no, it's not," your face heats up, despite the cold, damp air. "let me buy you another coffee."

"I--" he glances down at his sweater, which is knitted with cute foxes on the front, then back at you. he pauses a moment and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep from collapsing. he's considerably older than you, but he doesn't dress or act that way. maybe late thirties, if you had to guess. "sure. thanks."

a flowering relief in your chest, partly because he doesn't seem angry and partly because you'd like to look at his face just a bit longer. your eyes stay on his until someone walks through the door of the café and reminds you of where you are.

without a word, you brush past and go into the building, him trailing behind.

Matthew watches as you walk ahead, your clothes spattered with rainwater and your hair somewhat messed up, too. he smiles to himself at the way you almost bump into the corner of a table, nervousness evident in nearly every movement.

you head to the counter, setting your hands on the granite while the barista checks out your unkempt appearance.

"hi," you smile at her before realizing you have no idea what this guy wants. you turn around and see him standing slightly behind you, suppressing a smile. he can tell how flustered you are, and now you look like a fool. "what coffee do you drink?"

"can I have a medium Americano, please?" he asks the barista with a friendly smile. he's got straight teeth, dimples... holy shit. you wish he had been unappealing so that this whole situation would be less humiliating.

you pay for his drink before getting out of the way, both of you slowly walking to the pickup counter.

"again, I'm really sorry. that stupid umbrella." you shake the thing at your side, raindrops falling to the floor. you run a hand through your wet hair.

"it's okay. I appreciate you getting me another cup." he flashes that smile again and you remember that his sweater is all stained. before you can think to do anything else, you pluck a handful of napkins from the self-serve station and start to dab at the material.

he looks down at you for a second, surprised by the way you grab his clothes. Matthew feels your hand pressing into his stomach innocently, and he feels himself blush a little. it's only when you pull away that he's able to regain his head.

"it's still bad," you throw away the napkins and re-evaluate the garment. "jesus christ, it's a nice sweater, too."

"hey, it's totally fine. I can just wash it out." he lets out a slight chuckle, and the sound makes your heart flutter. he's got a dad laugh. deep in his chest.

"baking soda and water." you say abruptly. he frowns.

"what?"

"to get the stain out? I use baking soda and water for coffee stains and it usually works." you explain gently, your eyes meeting again. his irises are a brownish hazel color, warm. the laugh lines by them are charming.

"oh," he grins. "do you get coffee stains often?"

you twist your mouth to the side and glance at the windows of the coffee shop. he's teasing you and you'd be remiss if you said you don't want to play along. "more than I'd like to admit."

you can feel him looking at you with that stupidly brilliant smile and it's really setting you off-kilter. someone shouldn't be that attractive; it's not fair. and yet you want desperately to stare, if purely for the sake of aesthetic enjoyment.

"I'm Matthew." he extends his hand, which is decorated with a series of rings. you realize that you don't even know his name.

"Y/N." you shake. his fingers are softer than you expected.

"nice to meet you, Y/N."

"and under such fortuitous circumstances." the corners of your mouth turn up as you relax a little.

he laughs at your words, the delightful ring of it interrupted by a new Americano showing up on the counter. he glances at the to-go cup, then at you, then goes to get his drink. you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he's not displaying anything past friendliness.

"well, um." something like disappointment settles in your stomach as you recognize this will be the last of your interaction. there's no reason for him to stick around, and you need to get back home to work, anyway.

"I'll let you get back to your day." Matthew doesn't seem nervous, just unsure as he grips the coffee in his hand. you open and close your mouth like something impressive enough to keep him here will come out. you know it won't.

and then you remember the state of affairs, the existence of your useless car and the useless phone in the front seat, how you're going to have to call Triple A and then your roommate to come get you.

Matthew realizes that you aren't going to say anything and he gives you one last smile and an awkward wave before turning to go. you watch in silence as he crosses the room to the door. two more seconds until he's out of your life forever. so of course you choose this exact moment to speak.

"wait."

his head jerks suddenly to look at you. this is embarrassing, but you have nothing to lose.

"can I... borrow your phone?"

Matthew tilts his head to the side slightly, frowning as though deeply confused. and you suppose it is a strange thing to ask, especially given that you're a younger person and most people your age carry their phones everywhere. "sure." he walks back over to you, pulling his cell out of his pocket.

"I just--" you fumble with the device while you decide how to phrase it without sounding like a pathetic mess. "my car keeps breaking down and my phone battery is, like, totally fucked, so it just turns off and on constantly and it’s still in my car but it’s raining and I just wanna see if it’s back on so I can call my roommate." you immediately cringe at yourself. the rambling isn’t cute.

he’s not too bothered by your panicking, though, his mouth only forming an O shape. "it’s no problem."

you dial your number, fingers trembling while he waits. he's turned his eyes to the rest of the coffee shop, but it still makes you nervous that he's standing right there. you put the cell to your ear and pray that it rings out.

you’re greeted by the sound of your own voice telling you to leave a message. great. with a frustrated sigh, you hang up and Matthew gives you an inquisitive expression.

“it’s still off,” you explain. “I’m gonna call my roommate.”

he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets while you punch in the other number. for a split second, you peek his way and admire his side profile. he really is something to behold; a model, maybe.

"hello?" good thing Cecilia has no problem answering unknown numbers. you bite your lip.

"hey, it's me."

"Y/N? whose phone are you using?"

"uh, someone I just met--" you frown as you try to find a way to describe him without something as insulting as a random guy. "anyway, my car broke down so I was wondering if you could pick me up."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, like the movement of sheets and the slightly disappointed groan of another person. she probably has her boyfriend over again. "sure, of course. where are you?"

you give her the address and hang up before dialing the car repair company. Matthew gestures to a table off to the side so that you two don't need to stand, and then you sit down across from him. you're so distracted by the person on the other end of the line that you don't even think about it.

Matthew twists his rings on his fingers. he's fidgety and it's sort of cute. you try not to stare at his hands, at the black spot of ink on the outside of his pinky. either he writes a lot or he's an artist. you have to focus on the table in order to keep from blushing.

finally, you finish up with the phone and hand it back to him. "you're a life saver."

"do you want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?" he gestures out the window. your immediate reaction is to say yes. it'll be awkward to sit here alone without your phone, without coffee. but you don't want to keep him any longer than you already have.

"it's okay, I'm sure you have places to be." you smile accommodatingly. he chooses his next words carefully, it seems.

"I don't, really. but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, too." the way he speaks, offering his company without trying to impose... something about it makes your heart melt a bit. you appreciate his thoughtfulness. it makes you want to know more.

"okay," you nod as you make your decision. "if you wanna stay. it shouldn't be too long."

"great," he settles back into his chair, the light from the café lights above you reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "why does your car keep breaking down?"

you exhale sharply at the thought. "that's a really good question, because I don't know the answer. it's super old and I'm too broke to afford a new one."

he nods.

Matthew's mind turns to different avenues at this knowledge. he knows you're young and that usually means that there isn't a lot of spare income. and he doesn't know if you have a job. but what he does know is that you've got an energy about you-- a sweet, well-intentioned manner that draws him in. every once in a while throughout the conversation, you throw out certain phrases that hint at a quick-witted intelligence.

you're funny, but not boldly so. and when you two get on the topic of how you ended up rain-soaked, shoving your way into a Los Angeles café, you tell him about your day.

"--and I have this shitty job right now working for one of my old professor's friends, so it's not like I can afford to constantly repair the damages. all my money is going towards my savings so I can pay for grad school, anyway." you sigh. he listens intently to your words, and he never shies away from eye contact. every time he nods along, you practically feel your heart leap.

"what do you do?" he asks.

"I write for a wellness magazine, but I'm sort of a fraud." you joke.

he laughs. "why's that?"

"I don't know, a lot of it is about different yoga methods and meditation, stuff like that-- but I don't do any of that in my daily life." you admit. it should be embarrassing, but you don't feel ashamed of the fact. he seems to find it funny.

"working your way toward a different kind of job, then?"

"I'm hoping for a more editorial role, honestly, but..." you lift your eyes to his. they're bright, he notices; full of a deep-rooted hope. "gotta start somewhere, right?"

"very true." Matthew wants to tell you just how much he understands, about the roles as an actor he's taken and the hours he spent making films in college, just hoping that one day he'd be able to make things on his own, but he doesn't want to scare you away or sound like he's bragging. it's not your fault you don't know who he is.

"sorry," you speak through a silence he doesn't realize he's left between you two. "I've talked your ear off and you don't even really know me. what do you do?"

"oh--" Matthew actually blushes this time. you see the pink creeping up his neck. "I'm an actor."

in the same way they did when you ran into him, your eyes widen. "an actor?"

"yeah," he smiles at the expression on your face. "you know that show, Criminal Minds?"

the name is familiar, but you've never seen an episode. "yeah, of course."

"I'm in that."

you don't know a lot about the program, but you've heard it talked about and you know that it's a popular show. so this guy is an actual actor, not just some LA wannabe. that makes him about five times more intimidating. you feel even more idiotic for not seeing it before.

"oh, shit," the words tumble out. Matthew grins at the bluntness of your reaction, and you scramble to recover. "sorry I didn't know who you are."

"no worries!" he laughs it off. "it's not a big deal."

"do you like it?" you ask. "being famous, I mean."

he shifts in his seat for a second as he makes a face like he doesn't know how to answer. you wonder if there's something deeper to him that you just haven't seen, yet. secret feelings about the subject. "I'm really not very famous, but I love the work."

genuinely humble. you can see it in his face, the sparkle in his eyes. and maybe he's just charming and you're just a girl blinded by his attractiveness, but your gut tells you that he's being real.

this time, you're the one who falls silent. admittedly, you get a little in your head sometimes. and it makes sense, now, the smoothness of his behavior and the sheer beauty of his face. this is a show business city-- of course he's famous.

Matthew's phone rings and he jumps, as if jolted from a dream. your attention moves immediately to the screen and you recognize Cecilia's number. he pushes the device over to you.

"hello?" your voice sounds far away.

"hey, I'm here. where are you?" she says.

"I'm just inside the café."

"oh, okay, I'll park and come in--" you hear the click of a seatbelt and start to panic. she can't see you in here with him.

"no!" you say too loudly. Matthew's head jerks up to frown at you.

"why not?" Cecilia asks, confused.

"no reason," god, you're a bad liar. "I'll come out and we can wait for the Triple A person in your car." you and Matthew make eye contact again. he gives you an understanding smile. your stomach flips.

"sounds good." she hangs up and you grab your umbrella. time to go.

"thanks for letting me use your phone." you stand, not really wanting to say goodbye but also lacking a reason to stay. he remains in his spot, seemingly now settled into this little corner of the café. it sort of suits him, this place. all cozy and slightly strange.

“happy to help.” you notice the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as if deliberating whether or not to say anything further. but he doesn’t and you feel awkward just standing there by the table.

“I’ll, uh…” you could ask for his number. but that would be weird, right? he doesn’t really seem to have an interest, anyway. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“yeah. it was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he gives one more of those killer smiles and you turn around, almost bumping into a display of coffee beans before correcting yourself and heading back outside.

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