#she still has something going on with madelis no matter what though
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ch0llies · 2 days ago
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EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO.
read the series here
THE EPILOGUE.
Seven years.
It’s been seven years since your world changed- since Matt became yours.
Sometimes, it feels like it happened just yesterday. Other times, it feels like a lifetime ago.
But no matter how much time has passed, one thing has never changed- Matt still looks at you like you hung the moon.
Your life together has been everything and more.
A Home, A Life, A Family
You graduated high school, then college. You moved in with Matt. You built a life together.
Matt always told you he’d take care of you, that he’d give you everything. And he kept his word.
Now, you live in a beautiful home, not too far from where you both grew up but far enough that it’s yours.
It’s got huge windows, a spacious backyard Matt swears he’s going to turn into a rink in the winter, and a spare room that- well, isn’t so spare anymore.
Because after four years together, you had your daughter.
She’s a mini Matt in every possible way- his beautiful blue eyes, his attitude, his ability to charm the entire world with a single smirk. But she has your heart- the perfect mix of you two.
And Matt? He adores her.
He’s the kind of dad that melts the second she so much as looks at him. The kind that lets her paint his nails, the kind that chases her around the house when she demands he play princess tag, the kind that refuses to let her go to bed without reading to her.
She has him absolutely wrapped around her little finger.
And your brother? He’s obsessed with her.
She’s his favorite person, the kid he spoils rotten, the one he brags about to literally everyone.
And of course, he’s already put her in hockey lessons.
Which Matt pretends to be offended about.
“She’s too young to be in a league!” he argued when your brother first signed her up.
“She’s four, Matt. She’s barely learning to skate.”
“Exactly.”
But despite all of his protests, he was still the first one on the ice with her, still the one tying her skates, still the one beaming with pride when she managed to stay upright for more than five seconds.
Matt acts all tough. But when it comes to her? He’s a complete softie. The same when it comes to you.
And now? Now, you’re expecting a baby boy. Your son. Matt is over the moon.
Talks to your belly every night, swears your baby boy is gonna be the next NHL star.
Which, speaking of- Matt’s doing what he always dreamed of.
He’s a defenseman in the NHL, drafted after years of hard work, pushing himself harder than anyone else, earning his spot.
And you? You made sure you could be by his side through it all.
You majored in sports management, now working alongside him, handling his contracts, sponsorships, career moves- everything.
At first, he wasn’t sure about it.
“You don’t have to do that, angel. You should do something for you.”
But you had just smiled, running your fingers through his hair, calm, certain.
“Matt,” you had whispered. “You are my something.”
And that was it. He let you in.
Now, you go to every game. You’re the first person he sees when he skates off the ice.
And after every win, every loss, every hard-fought battle on the ice-
He comes home to you.
It wasn’t always perfect, though.
It took time for things to heal. For your brother and Matt to repair what was broken.
For a long time, it was tense. They wouldn’t talk. Your brother would barely acknowledge him.
Matt was never bitter about it, but you could tell it weighed on him.
That he hated how much he hurt your brother, that even though he wouldn’t change a thing about loving you, he still wished it hadn’t come at the cost of their friendship.
But you? You weren’t going to let them avoid each other forever.
It took a lot of convincing, a lot of pushing, but eventually-
They sat down.
They talked it out.
And your brother- grudgingly at first, but eventually fully- forgave him.
Now, it’s something they joke about.
They’ll tell the story at family gatherings- how your brother nearly killed him, how Matt thought he was gonna be buried in the backyard, how it’s the one time in his life he’s ever been truly scared.
He teases Matt constantly. Says he should’ve made him sign a contract before dating you, should’ve put him through a background check.
But at the end of the day- they’re fine.
They’re better than fine.
Your brother loves you. Loves Matt. Loves your daughter.
Matt takes it in stride, lets him get his jokes in, lets him run his mouth-
Because at the end of the day?
Matt won. He got you. And your brother knows damn well he treats you like gold.
Matt proposed after three years.
He didn’t do some grand, elaborate plan- didn’t need a crowd, didn’t need some huge, over-the-top gesture.
It was just the two of you, the way it’s always been.
He pulled the ring from his pocket, his blue eyes soft, steady, full of certainty.
“Marry me, angel.”
And of course you said yes.
Now, you wear his last name, his ring on your finger, his kids in your arms.
And yeah, you're not as innocent as you used to be. Not after years with him. Not after everything he's taught you.
But in his eyes?
You’ll always be his angel. His love. His everything.
Still have that wide-eyed sweetness, that soft, trusting nature that drove him insane all those years ago.
And as you sit curled up on the couch, your daughter asleep in Matt’s lap, his hand resting on your growing belly, feeling your son kick beneath his palm-
You know.
No matter how much time passes, no matter how much has changed- you’ll always be exactly where you belong.
And every night, when he tucks your daughter into bed, kisses your growing belly, and wraps you up in his arms-
He knows.
He'd do it all over again just to get here.
Because nothing in this world is better than loving you and saying you've earned it, would be an understatement.
The End.
a/n: why am I emotional 🥹🥹 these are my babies fr. the end of an era. maybe when im missing them I’ll do an occasional check in on what there’re doing rn… maybe write a oneshot from time to time… cuz we all know ill never ACTUALLY stop writing them😭
tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz
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celestialgalaxyglow · 3 days ago
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Batfam and Danny, Part 12
Danny: Hey Alfred, I was going through some old files and I was wondering if you could explain something to me.
Alfred: Sure thing Master Daniel.
Danny: How long were each of the Robins, Robin?
Alfred: Well Dick was Robin from the time he was 14 till he was 17, when he decided to become Nightwing. After that your father was Robin from the time he was 14 till 16, when the Joker... killed him. He was gone for six months but by the time he retuned Tim had become the new Robin so your father become Red Hood. Tim was Robin from the ages of 14 to 17, Till Steph came to us and he gave the mantel of Robin to her and became Red Robin. Steph was Robin from the age of 17 to 18, she gave up the mantel to Damian when he was dropped off by Miss al Ghul and took the name Spoiler. Damian took up the mantel of Robin upon his arrival at the age of 10 and has been Robin for the last two years.
Danny: Ok, how old is everyone?
Alfred: Dick is 25, Jason is 22, hopefully you knew that one, Tim and Barbara are 20, Steph, Cass, and Duke are 19, Damian 12, Master Bruce is 34, and my age is classified information.
Danny (laughing): How do I gain clearance to access that information.
Alfred: I grant the clearance.
Danny: Can I have clearance?
Alfred: No.
They laughed.
Alfred: I must ask Danny, what brought along this line of questioning?
Danny: It's the way Bruce talks about the former Robins. The official reports state their ages the way you told them, but between the lines, and the way Bruce talks about their times of Robins I imagined they were all around ten when they took up the mantel.
Alfred: That's a reasonable conclusion to reach. Even though everyone, except Damian, were already teenagers when Bruce took them in, he's always talked about them as if they were little kids. And in all honesty he still does.
Danny: Hmm, interesting. Wait so Bruce took on Dick in when he was 24?
Alfred: Yes. Not even a fully grown adult, the brain doesn't fully develop till the age of 25, but yet Bruce decided to adopt a kid 10 years younger than him.
Danny: Our family is strange.
Alfred (sipping his tea): That it is.
Later at Jason and Danny's apartment.
Danny: Dad can I ask you something?
Jason: What is it kid?
Danny: How did everyone react when you came back to life?
Jason: Oh, that is a story! So after I fought my way back to the Land of the Living I woke up in my coffin and dug my way out. I was a bit disoriented, but somehow made my way around the manor to the front door. I remember nocking and Alfred opening the door and that's it. This part I got from Alfred, I feel into his arms, he called for Bruce, and I was sent to a medical bed in the Batcave. When I came to, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick where next to me. They were happy to see me again, but very confused as to how I came back to life. I explained my story, and Dick started laughing, saying only I of all people would fight my way back to being alive. Bruce on the other hand would not stop apologizing for my death, no matter how many times I told him I forgave him. That's also when I learned that Bruce had killed the Joker.
Danny: What about Tim?
Jason: Tim was hiding behind a wall. Poor kid thought I'd be mad at him for stealing my job as Robin. I told him I wasn't mad and that I was done with all the vigilante stuff for the time, and wanted to take a break. He was also a little worried that Bruce would kick him out but we all put a stop to those concerns, he was part of the family and he wasn't getting rid of us that easily. Anyways, the next day Bruce tackled my legally dead status by creating a fake body of me and putting it in the coffin. So when the police asked questions, they saw a very alive me, and a very fake body in the coffin, and Gotham being Gotham, they didn't ask further question, and my legally dead status was revoked.
Danny: Really? No further questions? Like where you've been for the last six months?
Jason: Nope. But I was allowed to keep my death certificate.
Danny: What about Gotham high society and the general population?
Jason: We told this story that some madmen had kidnapped me and that I managed to escape and make it home. Everyone bought it, or at least knew better than to question it.
Danny: Honestly, that checks out.
Jason: Anyways, after that I started helping Tim train, and after two months of rest I decided to jump back to work and took up the name of Red Hood, and started infiltrating Gotham's criminal underground and quickly rose the ranks. Keep in mind I didn't tell anyone, so Bruce got concerned about this new guy taking over Gotham's criminals and sent Tim to spy. I quickly caught him and brought him for an "interrogation." I expected Bruce to send Tim so I prepared an evil monologue and everything. After I was done monologuing I removed my mask and started lecturing Tim about how easily I caught him, and that Bruce, Dick, and I taught him better. Tim got mad and we started having a screaming match. Shortly after that Bruce arrived and saw us. Bruce was not happy that I decided to go back to vigilante business without saying anything, but he was proud of the work I was doing, so I got away with it. And that's more or less everything.
Danny: I love this family.
Jason: Yeah, we're great. I still have a grave, right next to grandma and grandpa. ... Please don't tell Bruce I called his Martha and Thomas, grandma and grandpa, poor guy will start crying and hugging me while calling me his son.
Danny (laughing): Don't worry I won't.
(Master Post)
Current ages
Bruce - 34
Alfred - [Classified]
Dick - 25
Jason - 22
Tim - 20
Barbara - 20
Steph - 19
Cass - 19
Duke - 19
Danny - 16
Damian - 12
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lvnleah · 1 day ago
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Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)
So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.
Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs
Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side
Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long
Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂
the other williamson | leah williamson.
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thank you for this request! :)
this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!
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You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles. 
You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal. 
At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle. 
“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”
You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”
The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.
For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back. 
Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.
But as you got older, things changed.
By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.
At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.
At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.
Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.
“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”
It stung more than you cared to admit.
That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum. 
“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground. 
You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.
Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”
You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.
“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”
Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”
Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”
“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”
Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”
You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”
Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”
“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”
A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.
“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”
You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”
“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”
You nodded.
Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.
“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”
“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”
Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”
You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.
That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.
Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister. 
Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend. 
“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground. 
You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”
Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games. 
“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you. 
You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.
When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.
“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”
As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.
“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.
You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.
“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”
“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.
More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you. 
“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”
You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”
“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”
Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”
You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.
And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.
At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”
Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”
Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.
“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.
You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”
Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”
The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.
“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”
You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.
By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you. 
“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”
You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Ready for this, Bubba?”
“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.
The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”
The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.
Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.
You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.
You’d scored on your debut.
Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.
The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.
When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.
“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”
That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”
For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”
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theweewooshow · 1 day ago
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the truth is i can't say goodbye
@bucktommywinterfest prompt: accidental texts | rated: M
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God I know I'm a broken fucking record, but I'm baking again so I don’t text him. I’ll bring by some more scones later.
Buck shoots the text off to Eddie because he’s feeling pathetic and lonely and he’s been wallowing and baking all day again instead of doing his laundry like he’s supposed to and everything feels overwhelming even though it shouldn't.
Eddie doesn't text back and his phone doesn't vibrate for a long while so Buck just closes his eyes and grits his teeth.
It really shouldn't be this hard, right?
He’s gotten over people before.
He held onto Abby even when she was gone, but that was so murky and he was still living at her place, thinking they were still going to be together when she got back. But when he realized it was over, he moved on. He left her place and tried to leave most of the baggage and emotion he felt for her there.
And yeah, he didn't get real closure for a while, but he was over her probably before he ever left that note for her in her apartment. He didn't think about her much after he left her place because there wasn't anything to think about. He’d done his mourning of that relationship while he was waiting for her. So when he was out of her place, there wasn't anything left to think about.
That’s the most comparable relationship he has to Tommy so he doesn't know why he can't get his brain to catch up with the facts. It's over. It's done. So he should move on and Tommy should stop taking up so much real estate in his mind.
But it's easier said than done. Because he thinks about Tommy all the time. He wants to talk to him all the time.
There’s so much of him everywhere he looks.
He sees the blanket Tommy used to wrap himself up when he slept on his uncomfortable couch so he could be steps away in case Buck needed him when he dislocated his shoulder.
His ghost is in Buck’s kitchen, puttering around, trying to find a spoon to taste the sauce he cooked the first time he made Buck dinner.
Tommy’s side of the bed is empty when he gets into bed every night. The pillow on that side of the bed has lost the scent of Tommy’s shampoo.
There’s a memory of him in Buck’s shower—on his knees, hands and mouth worshiping him—that Buck can't get out of his head when he showers, his dick stubbornly hard even though he refuses to jerk himself off to the memory of Tommy.
The second coffee mug Buck pulled out before his brain woke up the morning after he was dumped that he hasn't been able to bring himself to put away sits empty on his counter, mocking him, every single morning.
Beyond that, Tommy’s ghost is at Eddie’s house and at the station and in his Jeep and at the fucking grocery store, so everywhere Buck goes, he can’t help but think about him, can't help but want to text him every little thing like he did when they were still together.
And when he thinks about him, he pines, according to Eddie. And when he thinks about texting him or calling him, he bakes just to give himself something to do with his hands that isn't scrolling through their text thread and pouting.
No matter what he does, he can't get him out of his head though.
He unlocks his phone to call Eddie to complain out loud since he won't validate him over text, but when he sees the name at the top of the screen, his heart stops.
Because he didn't send that text about Tommy to Eddie.
He sent it to Tommy, whose text thread he was looking at earlier before he sent off that embarrassing text.
He swallows, but it feels like his heart is stuck in his throat because Tommy’s bubbling him again. Tommy’s seen the text and he’s bubbling him.
Buck looks at the screen in abject horror as he watches the bubble disappear and reappear, wondering what Tommy’s thinking right now, if he’s thinking that Buck is kind of pathetic to still be thinking about him over a month after he broke up with him.
He sets his phone down and drops his head into his hands because he can't believe this is his life.
He’s contemplating how difficult it would be to just mysteriously disappear when his phone pings with a message and his heart stops again.
He already knows whose name he’s going to see when he looks down at his phone, but he still feels oddly taken aback seeing the message notification that says he has a text from Tommy ❤️.
He unlocks his phone and the message reads: I know this text was meant for someone else, but can I still have a scone?
Buck jumps up and rushes over to his fridge to take a picture of the loaves he baked over the weekend. He sends the picture along with the message You can have whatever you want.
Maybe it’s a little on the nose, a little too close to how he feels about everything with him, but it somehow works because Tommy texts him back right away.
I wouldn't say no to banana bread or some scones
Before Buck can even think of responding, the bubble is popping up again, letting him know Tommy’s typing again. He holds his breath as he waits for the text to appear. Tommy doesn't make him wait long.
If you wanted to drop it off at my place, I’d let you in so you can tell me all about what you’ve been wanting to text me.
With his heart pounding in his chest for an entirely different reason from when he first realized he accidentally texted Tommy, Buck’s fingers clumsily type out his message.
When are you free?
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finelinevogue · 1 day ago
Note
Hi babe! I absolutely love your work and read it everyday! Do you think you could do a blurb where its aaron x bau reader and the reader has a toxic/abusive family and hotch and the team find out about it on a case or something (angst but turns into fluff)? I LOVE YOUUU!!!
family is everything
hiya my lovely!! love you too :(( oh stop you’re far too kind omg 🥺 of course i can give this a go - hurt/comfort fics >>>
pairing - aaron hotchner x bau!reader
word count - +5.4k
cw: pre-established relationship, bad coping methods, mentions of childhood abuse, hurt/comfort, happy ending
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Spencer was performing one of his magic tricks.
He had captivated the audience of more than half of the room, much to Hotch’s dismay.
“And this gets you girls?” Morgan questioned, perched on the corner of the desk adjacent to Spencer - which happened to be yours. “How?!”
You laughed along with the others as you spun yourself side-to-side in your office chair.
“It’s all in the mystery, my sweet one.” Garcia pinched Morgan’s cheeks. She was the only one who could get away with it.
“Oh I can do mystery.” Morgan added.
“But can you do… magic?” Reid asked as he ended the magic trick by holding out the correct card that Morgan had picked earlier.
“What?!”
“Yes Reid!”
“Pfft.. Whatever.”
Everyone started clearing away from Spencer’s desk, Morgan walking away with a sulk. Garcia lingered by Morgan’s desk no doubt attempting to cheer him up with her endless flirting.
When you’d joined the BAU you had seriously thought they were together.
Why wouldn’t you?
They constantly flirt. They’re almost crude with each other. Yet they had never even entertained the idea of being with each other.
It didn’t matter to you whether they were single or not though, because your heart was slowly being given over to someone else. Someone who happened to be your Unit Chief; Aaron Hotchner.
The relationship was still very new.
Your team knew about it, but it was still being kept quiet. That was just you and Aaron, though. You didn’t feel the need to be flashy with your relationship. In fact, you enjoyed living with each other in those quieter moments because it meant you had each other all to yourself.
It was that moment that you found yourself looking up to his office.
Aaron happened to walk out of his office at that exact moment, reading a case file in his hands.
You bit down on the pen you were holding as you watched him walk past, eyeing him up because you could now without consequence.
Aaron didn’t return the look but you did notice the smirk as he walked down the ramp towards the briefing room. It was like he could tell that you were looking at him. That made you smile, turning around in your chair to hide the blush from anyone.
"Think we've got a case?" Reid asked you.
"Probably. It's been at least two days since our last."
Both you and Reid stand up, prompting the others on your team to do the same. You as a team of profilers had gotten so used to what it looked like before a case was briefed that you just knew now, before JJ could even call you in.
JJ, Hotch and Rossi are all in the room already.
The case files were set out on the table - one at each seat. JJ had the screen set up ready to present and Hotch and Rossi were already looking through their files.
You sat down on the chair next to Hotch. They had kind of become your unofficial assigned seats.
"Okay JJ." Hotch nodded.
"We got a call from San Fransisco Police Department after a string of murders have been loosely tied together."
"Loosely?" Emily questioned.
"Several domestic abuse victims have been found murdered. Isla Hubert was strangled, Beth Fountain stabbed and Meredith Cole shot."
JJ flicked through the pictures of the women and you could feel your face go pale at the sight.
Your breathing hitched, but luckily nobody noticed.
Your hands scrunched up into fists so tight that your nails were digging into the skin of your palm. It was the only way to cope with this situation without drawing attention to yourself.
You focused as much on JJ presenting as possible.
"At first it was hard for the police to put them together since M.O.s were so different with each murder - hence, loosely - but after they looked more closely it turns out that each of the victims had recently left an abusive relationship."
"Suggests a possible revenge-motivated unsub." Reid added.
"Yeah." JJ nodded.
"How did the PD make the connection?" Morgan asked.
"All of the victims were women who had either filed restraining orders and, or had sought help from a domestic violence shelter." JJ switched the image on the screen to the shelter.
You looked down at your lap, your fists still enclosed.
You were normally very collected when cases were presented, but it was really hard with this one.
Not only is San Fransisco the city you grew up in, it also hosted that very domestic violence shelter that you used to go to every day.
It made you feel sick, because had this unsub been around ten years ago then that could have very well been you up there on the presenting screen.
<.><.>
You were gathering your stuff up on your desk when Aaron came over to you.
"Hey." You tried to smile but Aaron knew you better.
"Something's bothering you, so rather than have me tiptoeing around it I'm asking you to tell me what's wrong."
He sure doesn't beat around the bush.
Even though this case is horrendous for you, it did warm your heart a little to know that Aaron knew you so well only after a couple months of dating. Maybe it was the profiler in him, but you chose to believe it was simply because he cared about you.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
Every man should know that when a woman says she's fine... she's not. Aaron did know that but he also knew not to push it right now.
"Okay."
After you stuffed your water bottle in your bag, Aaron caught your hand with his. He carefully opened your palm. You could feel the panic in your chest as he did so.
"I will stop asking you if you're okay, if you stop doing this."
He pointed out the crescent moon shapes you'd imprinted on your palms from your finger nails. He wiped his thumb over the skin as if they would magically just disappear. He probably wanted to kiss over them, but you knew he'd never do that in front of everyone here.
You couldn't answer verbally so you nodded your head instead.
<.><.>
Rossi and Hotch were the last in the room before leaving.
They both left and locked their offices at the same time. Both of them had their coat and bag hanging off an arm.
"Hotch."
"Yeah?"
"Y/N..."
"I know." Hotch cut his friend off before he could finish the sentence, already having an inkling of what he was going to say and not knowing whether her could stomach hearing it being said out loud.
<.><.>
On the plane there was more time for a brief.
You were sat leaning against a window at the table with four chairs, listening carefully to what was being said but making no effort to contribute.
"So there were no signs of sexual assault?" Emily asked.
"No." JJ shook her head.
"Well that eliminates some motives." Rossi said.
"Such as?" Garcia asked through the video call.
"Well we know he's not a sexual sadist now. It's almost like whatever he is doing is because he believes it's right. It's the only way." Reid explained.
You swallowed back the growing lump in the back of your throat as the team continued to talk.
The situation almost felt dissociative. You were physically here and physically involved and yet your brain kept trying to zone out of the conversation.
You looked out the window just as a memory flashed.
You laid on the floor of your bedroom - a room that was supposed to be yours and supposed to be safe. You had been sleeping when he had come in.
The door was wide open because you hadn't found the strength to stand back up again since he'd been in.
Your pyjamas were long length and yet you felt completely exposed. Tears fell down your cheeks as you stared up at the glowing stars on your ceiling, imagining a world where you could visit them right now. A world that was a little more silent and a little bit brighter.
All you could hear though was his voice saying, "I have to. It's the only way you'll ever learn."
"...And Y/N and Reid, you work on the geographical profile. Hopefully we can narrow down where these victims are being taken from." Hotch's voice brought you back from the memory.
You had clearly missed a lot of the conversation but no one pointed that out for the rest of the flight.
<.><.>
San Fransisco was just as dull as you remember it.
A lot of people who lived here, commuted through here or even visited here would think quite the opposite, but when a bad thing has happened to you in a certain place then that place becomes unworthy of its beauty.
As you continued to get set up in the police station Hotch asked you to step aside for a minute to talk to him.
You both stood in the cold and dark interrogation room so you could speak privately.
Your arms were folded over your body defensively as you stood waiting for Hotch to talk.
"Y/N, if this case it too much for you then..."
"Too much?" You chuckled, "Why would it be too much for me?"
Hotch sighed, "I don't know."
"Exactly Agent Hotchner, you don't know." You uncrossed your arms and walked towards the door - done with this conversation.
Aaron knew not to touch you in order to catch your attention, so instead he stepped in front of the door so you had no exit.
"Hey, don't do that." He said softly and you knew he was referring to the way you had called his name.
He had never really been Agent Hotchner, or SSA Hotchner, to you. He'd only been Aaron or recently in the quiet of your homes it had turned into a loving 'honey' or 'love'.
You could see the hurt in his eyes that you had put there.
"I'm fine." You repeated, feeling like you might be sick over saying those words again and again.
You thought you truly had been fine.
For the longest time all of this had been buried deep within you. Your job was so busy and hectic that you never really had the opportunity to think about your past. You had also been fortunate that there had been no domestic abuse cases so far in your year working for the BAU.
Yet it was all flooding back now you did have this case. Your mind was constantly active with the haunted memories of your past.
Memories that you were too afraid to speak out loud.
"Okay, but if I think for a moment that you aren't capable I will pull you from this case." Hotch said seriously. He was done playing nice.
"That won't be necessary. I am more than capable."
Hotch looked at you for a moment and saw the challenge in your eyes. However, he could also see the emotion deep within them like there was a part of you that was screaming to be let out.
"Morgan and I are going to the women's shelter. You and Emily can interview the families of the victims."
Your heart stopped a little. You're sure that your eyes must have given you away as you lost eye contact with Hotch to try and keep composure.
"I thought I was with Reid?" You asked.
"Not anymore. Families are coming in in half an hour." He said before leaving the room, leaving you in there with the door open.
"Fuck." You muttered to yourself.
You wiped under your eyes before any tears could run. Messy mascara wasn't something you wanted to explain today. You let out a shaky breath, trying to not let it sound too loud. The last thing you wanted was to attract unnecessary attention.
You were fine, after all.
<.><.>
"Mr and Mrs Cole. Thank you for being here." Emily started off the interview.
Mrs Cole was crying. Mr Cole was not.
In your eyes that told you everything you needed to know. Unfortunately you couldn't claim you knew anything without sufficient evidence. Evidence that the team was looking for now.
"I can't believe my baby is gone." Mrs Cole cried, sniffling into a tissue that you had provided for her.
"I know this is hard Mrs Cole," You said, empathising with her more than she could know, "But if you could both help us answer some questions it could be really helpful in helping find out who did this to your daughter."
"Okay." She nodded.
"What kind of person was Meredith growing up?" Emily asked, wanting to know what kind of childhood Meredith had.
"She was always so bright. She just wanted to be happy." Mrs Cole answered shakily.
Mr Cole scoffed and looked off to the side.
"Something to add Mr Cole?" Emily prompted.
"What my wife means to say is, Meredith was difficult."
Your mind alerted you then. You knew what was meant for a daughter who was deemed as difficult by her father.
Your fingers clenched to dig your nails into your palm but the second you did Aaron's face came across your view.
"I will stop asking you if you're okay, if you stop doing this."
You could still feel the brush of his thumb across your skin. His warms hands against your cold ones. His soft touch the lightest you had ever felt from a man.
Your hand unclenched, resting them on the table instead.
Emily had been carefully watching you, having been asked by Hotch to keep on eye on you. Your near slip-up didn't cause any interruption to the interview and Emily took the lead to continue.
"We understand that Meredith recently left her relationship with Adam. Do you know why?" She asked.
Mrs Cole looked nervously at her husband.
He huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, "She was always so dramatic. I mean, every couple fights but that doesn’t mean you throw everything away."
You took note of how Mr Cole minimised the abuse that Meredith was clearly receiving.
"Did Meredith ever tell you that Adam hurt her?" You asked.
Mrs Cole sniffled but it was Mr Cole that answered, "She exaggerated things."
"So you’re saying she lied?" You prompted, seeing how twitchy Mr Cole was getting in the metal chair.
"She always wanted attention." He said.
That's what they all say but really the attention was just another way of saying they were looking for somebody to give them a way out. They were desperate for someone to see them and know that they weren't safe - that they needed saving.
Lots of women can't save themselves and the ones that do are never safe again.
"Did she ever come to either of you for help?" Emily asked.
Mrs Cole nodded, "She… Meredith wanted to leave so many times, but she didn’t think she could. She was scared."
"Scared of him?" Emily said encouragingly.
It was only a small gesture but both you and Emily caught the small glance that Mrs Cole gave her husband.
If it wasn't clear to you before then it was ridiculously clear now what had happened.
"Of everything."
"Or scared that no one would believe her?" You muttered to Emily. She nodded in agreement.
Mr Cole must have heard though because he angrily slammed his hands on to the table. It took absolutely everything in your professional career to not flinch. The loud noise caused your heartbeat to skyrocket.
This is not him. This is not before. You kept reminding yourself.
"What exactly are you implying?" He shouted defensively.
"Robert..." Mrs Cole tried to calm him.
"No! What are you saying?"
You and Emily looked at each other and you gave her a nod to signal she could continue this, even though it was you that taunted him.
"Mr Cole. When your daughter was younger, was she ever worried about her current or future. relationships?"
"I raised her to be tough. Not weak." He spat.
You were curled up in a ball on your bed. The room stank of ammonia thanks to your nervous tics and the fact he had walked through the door angrily.
You had run away from an argument downstairs but he had caught up to you.
"You need to learn to be tough, child. I didn't raise you to be this weak."
The room went quiet for a moment. Only the sound of Mrs Cole's sniffles filled the room.
Mr Cole's words sparked the last question you wanted to ask.
"You didn’t believe her, did you?" You asked.
"She made her own choices." Mr Cole said.
You promptly stood up from your chair, "And now she’s dead."
Mrs Cole burst out crying as you spoke, but you charged out of the room before you could console her. She knew anyway. She knew what her husband was doing to her daughter and still she did absolutely nothing, either because she was terrified or she simply didn't care.
But she was just a child.
You were just a child.
<.><.>
The bathroom was as depressing as the rest of the police station.
You had needed a moment to collect yourself.
Interviewing someone who had these whacked beliefs about raising children triggered you in a way you didn't think possible.
The way Mr Cole spoke was chilling and it made you remember all those dark nights when you didn't think you'd ever be loved again. In fact, back then, you don't reckon you knew what love was.
Your grip on the bathroom counter tightened as you tried to ground yourself.
You were so in your own head this whole case and you hadn't caught who was responsible yet. This case was only going to become more triggering as you went along and as you potentially uncovered more bodies.
Right when you felt like you might just let every emotion out Emily opened the bathroom door, you leant back off the counter and tried to look composed.
"Just wanted to let you know that the team's back. Oh and there's someone here who wants to speak to you." She gave you a small smile.
"Okay, thanks." You smiled back and it felt like the fakest thing in the world.
<.><.>
The last thing you expected when you returned to the main area of the police station was to see your father.
Your footsteps halted, like you couldn't physically move any closer towards him.
The rest of the room kept carrying on like normal, but you felt your words completely dry up and your hands begin to shake. You tried to process all the questions you had for him being here all at once.
"Y/N!" He raised his arms out like he was ready for a hug but you stepped back, knocking your hip into the corner of a desk in panic.
The rest of the team watched the situation before them.
They'd never seen you look so lost.
“There you are!” He smiled but you heard the venom behind each word. He was putting on his charm in front of all these people, but really he restraining himself from showing his true colours.
"W-what are you doing here?" You asked.
He scoffed like that was a silly question, “It’s been a long time.”
You can feel the weight of people's eyes on you. Other agents. Cops. The team. Aaron. The last one makes you nervous.
You have an inkling that Aaron knows something and yet you have never managed to tell him. Aaron makes you feel safe like no one ever has, but you still can't find the courage to speak up. You're also worried what he might do should he find out.
This doesn't need to become a thing. You don't want to become one of the teams victims.
So you tried to take control of the situation for once, "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, please leave. We have work to do.”
"I just wanted to check on you.” Your father's jaw clenched as he spoke.
Check on you? After all these years of no contact?
You didn't want him checking up on you. You didn't want him anywhere near you.
After all these years you still feel trapped near him - even when he's not touching you.
Aaron must have been watching closely, because he could tell that you were done with this situation but it was clear your father wasn't. It didn't take a profiler to work out the cause of that tension. Aaron needed the situation handled before anyone could do anything - his own fists were readying to swing should your father take one step out of line.
"She's asked you to leave, Sir." Aaron said stoicly.
You could feel Aaron right next to you, arms crossed over his chest to make himself look more dominant. Your father was only small anyways, but next to Aaron he was nothing.
Your father looked between you and Aaron, chuckling to himself.
"You Y/N's boyfriend then?" Your father asked.
You stiffened next to Aaron, your palms flexing as you tried to remember Aaron's words from earlier.
"Aaron Hotchner." He gave your dad a small nod.
You noticed how Aaron didn't flex his credentials. It was a classic profilers move of undermining the man who thought he was in charge, because then they never really know what to expect.
“I gotta say, I’m surprised.” Your father chuckled. “Never figured Y/N would be the type to get involved with someone like you.”
Aaron's facial expression didn't change. In fact, if anything, he looked a little more pissed off.
Your mind was trying to get you to choose between fight or flight. Normally you would fight, but having your dad so near really triggered your flight response. So you tried to cut the tension and deescalate the situation. before anyone got more hotheaded.
Although seeing Hotch punch your father would feel pretty good.
"Okay. I think we're done here."
Your father shrugged, raising his hands in defence, “Watch your tone. There's no need to get upset. I'll go.” He said, making it seem like you were being the unreasonable one.
Your father's words and the way you immediately shut down after he said them were a dead giveaway to your past.
It was impossible to hide it.
And for the first time in your relationship with Aaron, you felt exposed.
This was part of your story - part of you - that you never wanted him to have to see. Aaron had far too many of his own demons to suddenly take on yours as well.
Your father makes the effort to walk towards the main door, but not before stopping to speak again. “You’re still the same, aren’t you?”
He was baiting you.
“Still running. Still pretending. Does he even know?” He continued.
His words made you look towards Aaron and it hurt to see him look so angry. Was he upset that you had hid something so personal and traumatic from him? Would this alter your relationship?
You turned to look at the rest of your team too. Emily looked heartbroken. Morgan looked angry. Reid looked so sad. You were making your favourite people feel sad.
Your own eyes welled with tears as you thought about all the people that you were hurting by just being here.
Aaron had clocked on from even before the briefing of this case that something that happened in your childhood. He just didn't think it was as sick and as twisted as this.
Aaron watched your head dip, your fists scrunch in the way he hated to see and your lips continuously mouthing; 'I'm sorry'.
How on God's Earth could you ever think you had something to apologise for?
“That’s enough." Aaron's voice cut through the room, making you look up at him with fear. Not fear of him, but fear for him. You knew all too well what that man who called himself your father could do. Rossi had been more of a father in a year than you actual father had in ever.
Your dad turned and smiled. He'd won.
Your darkest secret was out in the open and your father didn't care if he was taken down with it. The heartbroken look on your face would last him a lifetime.
You couldn't breathe.
Even after all these years your father had still had a hold over you and he could still win. He could still make you feel worthless with a simple few words. That's all he needed.
The tears fell over your cheeks as your chest heaved.
Policemen were watching your breakdown and your team looked as heartbroken as you felt.
You felt disgusting, crying over your own self when you were supposedly on a case to save other people like you. This time wasn't meant to be about you and yet somehow it now was.
You put a hand over your mouth as you tried to hold back a verbal sob.
Everyone's eyes were on you.
Watching to see you break down into nothing.
You couldn't do this. You never wanted it to be like this. You thought you were stronger than this.
Saying nothing more, you excused yourself politely and ran out of the room towards the back of the station - far, far, away from your father. But far, far, away would never be far enough.
<.><.>
Hotch hadn't moved.
He stood his ground as he watched your father - that piece of scum - chuckle once you'd fled the room.
"Get. Out." Hotch gritted out through his teeth.
Your father nodded.
Morgan moved closer to your father, looking at Hotch briefly to silently tell his boss that he had this handled and that you would need him more than he was needed here right now.
Hotch nodded, but not before getting one good last look at your father's face here. The next time he would see his face was going to be when Hotch put him behind bars.
<.><.>
Aaron found you out the back of the precinct.
You had one hand to your chest as you tried to control your breathing, the other holding yourself against the cold wall for support.
Your crying was calmer now but the tears still fell.
You turned to face Aaron when he walked out of the door. You tried to stand taller, pulling your shirt down to fit properly.
“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean for that to happen.” You sniffled, wiping the back of your hand over your cheek.
"Don't apologise."
"N-no. I should’ve handled it better. Shit." Your voice was so shaky that Aaron was surprised you could even speak.
"Sweetheart, no."
You should’ve controlled the situation better.
“This isn’t on you.” Aaron reminder you gently.
“Everyone looked so—Aaron, I just made everything worse.” You said as you remembered how the team looked and how you could taken emotional control of an already vulnerable case. It was unprofessional.
"This isn’t on you.” He repeated. “None of us are upset with you. We're devastated for you.”
You wanted to believe him, you really did, but that felt too hard to accept.
You shook your head as you tried to calm down the tears and hiccups that were reappearing.
"Honey... Listen to me and listen carefully. Nothing that just happened was because of you. Nothing that has happened was because of you." Aaron took a step closer to you.
"But, he..."
"Ssh, ssh. Listen." Aaron said softly, close enough to reach out for your hands now. "Hey, look at me."
When his hands touched you, you became completely grounded. You felt like you were right here instead of back there. Aaron was right in front of you and he wasn't running away. He was right there.
"You're still here." You said through a hiccup of tears.
"Of course I am." He said with a frown.
"I thought you-you'd leave, o-or not want me and..."
"Stop that. No. I don't mean to cut you off but I won't have you convincing yourself that I'm not anything but with you for the long haul, okay?" Aaron was so close now, linking his fingers through yours so that he could help you release all the anger from your fists.
"That first day you came into the BAU I was so low. I was. And I felt like you had been sent to our team not only to fix our capacity issues but also to... to fix me. I felt, for so long, like I had lost a part of me and yet the minute you walked through those doors... Well, I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That the part of me returned." Aaron's fingers squeezed yours to continue to ground you, "So if you think for one moment that I'm letting you slip away from me, with that part of me, so easily... Well I'm not even entertaining the idea." He gave you a smirk.
"So we're okay?" You asked for reassurance. Aaron was more than happy to give it to you.
"We're okay." He kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a little while to keep you close.
Aaron had noticed you pushing him away all day, so to have this time right now to be close with you was something he wasn't giving up so easily.
You were too busy embracing Aaron's touch to realise he was holding back tears of his own.
<.><.>
Both you and Aarons stood out back for another ten minutes or so, just talking through everything.
You didn't want to go into any details with him right now, but you did admit what your father used to do to you when you were a child and why this case hit far too close to home for you.
Aaron almost berated you for being so careless with your own emotions and mental state, but thought now was not the best time for that conversation. Instead he filled his talk with comforting and reassuring words. He had to make sure that you felt safe again.
He also promised to make your father's life a living hell - in whatever capacity legal...
That sort of terrified you but also made you feel a little lighter.
Morgan opened the door out back soon after, smiling at the way you and Hotch were holding hands and comforting one another.
"Hey. We got a call off the anonymous tip line. Girl called Sheree Rockstead called in to say that she's noticed some guy following her around the past few days. She's also just got out of a violent relationship and she's attending the women's shelter. She's seen the news and is worried."
"It's definitely our guy." Hotch said, not breaking his hand holding with you. "Let's set up an evac. plan. for Sheree and a trap for our unsub."
"You got it." Morgan nodded before leaving again.
Aaron turned back to you warily. You gave him a half smile in return.
"I'm going to stay here." You said.
"Okay." Aaron nodded. He would've benched you anyways if you demanded on going, knowing that field work was not the right thing for you right now.
"Be safe. Please."
"You too."
"Aaron..."
"I know. I'll be safe, I promise. Just want to make sure you are too. I mean if your father comes back when I'm not there I..."
"He won't." You shook your head. "Plus Reid can fight him off."
"Reid?"
"He has magic, after all." You laughed and Aaron had never been so happy to hear something in all his existence. His only hope was that he could continue hearing it with every day he had left.
<.><.>
On the way home on the jet everyone had passed out asleep other than you and Aaron.
There was still too much to talk about.
You had made your own announcement to the team about your past - a more revised version than what you would be telling Aaron - because you thought it was important for them to know.
Morgan threatened to become an undercover spy and "beat his ass" - his words. Hotch threatened to give him a pysch test if he kept throwing those words around, so he shut up - but only when his boss was present.
Garcia tracked down your father's whole life and it turned out he was drowning in debt and your mother had left him. His life was pretty crap and that made you feel really good.
Aaron, though, he had been a crutch for you throughout.
You were so lucky to have him.
But he would say he was luckier to have you.
And that would be the only competition that you and Aaron would ever have.
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universalzones · 3 days ago
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"I for one personally thing messing with time isn't a great idea, though it does seem Silver always has an idea of what to do somehow." Belle hadn't actually met Silver so was going off mostly stories, though it from what she's heard he always came to the past knowing a specific problem to fix. This had made the tinkerer wonder what the hedgehog was here to fix this time, though hoped it wasn't because of something G.U.N will do.
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"Don't feel like it," Surge said while keeping her focus on Drippy. Wasn't going to be easy talking down the fennec to letting them take her, though she can pull it off. That said, the tenrec found it hard to ignore the fact he was fidgeting so just put a hand on top of his head. It seemed to calm him down, though he clearly had his thinking face on. Of course he wasn't fully believing that she'd turn herself in.
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"I wouldn't be too sure. After all, there could still be a difference of opinions when we bring this news up. Though I suppose having Jewel's input is a wise choice." Blaze wasn't sure how easy of a decision this would actually be given everyone in the room, though supposed there was only one way to find out. Hopefully things don't get out of hand.
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"My story is I fucked up the city and tried to ice Sonic and Tails on my own. That's the truth, and I intend to stick with it." Surge didn't see a point in saying what everyone already knew. "And if I'm being honest, I sorta blacked out at one point." The tenrec remembered who she was fighting thanks to Drippy explain it, though at one point everything was a blur. Maybe because that device was putting her brain on overdrive.
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"I also have thought of an idea for dispelling G.U.N's fears about my programming. Perhaps we could offer one of their tech specialist to check my code and programming, supervised of course. I may not be fully comfortable with the idea, though if they want to push the subject it would be a smart way." Belle knew that was the main reason for targeting her, though hopefully seeing that her program rejects the Eggnet might put them at ease.
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"There is another matter to talk about, though it's a bit of a delicate matter," Blaze said, taking a moment to make sure she knew how she wanted to say this. "So, I myself was attacked by this Starline fellow. I believe it was before what he did to Surge and Kitsunami. However, I thought I had ended him. Seems I was mistaken, so with that said he could've survived his battle with Eggman."
Sonic's Eyes shifted to Surge the Moment she entered into the room and tensed up a little. They'd already had several moments of being at each others throats today and, some moments of being honest with each other. It did make him nervous but he was hoping that most of it was behind him now. His ears twitch to Kit's comment though his focus was on her and Jewel, well looked like she was a big hero after all. It made him smile a bit, and she was sure Tangle would give her a big thank you at some point.
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" Funny enough i'm sure if asked Silver would jump head first into trying to change it. But i'm of the mind that trying to change the past is massive undertaking. If silvers stories are to be believed... his many attempts to change the past have never really fixed anything... only changed the circumstance. Time doesn't like to be messed with..."
Sonic's ears twitched at Belle talking to him and his head turned to her curious. But clearly now was a bad time to talk about it. Still, he smiled and gave her a nod.
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" Sure Belle, i'll find ya when things cool off and we can have a chat no problem "
He did wonder what she wanted though at Surge's accusation he did sigh knowing this was coming.
" The plan came up and everyone anted to know your intention. But beyond that i kept my lips sealed. Ain't my place to tell him that kinda stuff... and if i coulda danced around it i woulda... so, sorry... if ya wanna knock my head in for it go ahead i won't blame ya "
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Lanolin wasn't sure how she felt about it but, in the end it was a hard decision to make. Certainly not one she was ready to make on her own, and hearing a commotion she moved to the glass window of the upper command deck and smiled seeing Jewel with Surge was a relief and a weight off her shoulders. She gave a glance back to Blaze with a soft smile.
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" Well... looks like that decision may well be out of our hands now. Looks like our director is back in one piece. We should probably join everyone else, and see how Jewel wants to approach this situation... "
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It didn't take Lanolin long to bring Jewel up to speed, it gave Surge some time to talk with Kitsunami, and Lanolin felt better having her back with them. The beetle seemed wildly concerned by what she heard and how to move forward was dicey, but she was rather proud of Lanolin and how she'd handled things in her absence. Though clearly she needed to learn diplomacy--- maybe she could hire someone to help in that area.
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" Alright listen up! we have 15 minutes before this Thawne contacts us... we need to have our stories straight! Lanolin i want you to take Surge up to the office and get a full confession of the events of the attack on the city from her perspective, Kitsunami as well. Sonic i'd like you and Miles to give your full account as well. "
She explained as she took control of the situation as she wanted to resolve things peacefully as she could.
" I do not intend to resort to violence here, we have nothing to hide! so if they wish to look into our affairs and determine we are in fact on the up and up, i don't see that we can refuse them. That said... Kitsunami and Surge are valued members of this organization and i have no intention of treating them any other way. If Thawne wishes to arrest them he'd best make his case... and i intend us to make our own. "
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" As for miss Belle... she has no criminal record so i see no reason to cave to this demand at all! With the evidence we have i have doubts any court could convict Kitsunami either... so we'll call there bluff and see how far they are willing to go! the people are on our side! and i'm confident they'll come to our aid in our time of need! "
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pretentious-blonde · 1 day ago
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new neighbour
pairing: steve harrington x reader
summary: steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention
warnings: literally none, nervous and sweet steve!!
a/n: i have been gone for 3 months but uni has finally settled down! also if anyone wants a pt. 2 with steve trying to help move r in i am so down! i have so many ideas!!!
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A steady stream of gray light filtered through the wide front windows of Family Video, illuminating the rows upon rows of VHS cases. The day was uncharacteristically slow, the kind of weekday lull that left the store feeling hollow and cavernous. Steve Harrington stood behind the counter, leaning his elbows on the chipped laminate surface, tapping his fingers in a pattern he’d repeated so many times in an attempt to give him something to focus on. 
His eyes hurt under the fluorescents, and though he tried to keep a casual expression, anyone who looked long enough could see the small, flickering signs of boredom crossing his features. On the other side of the store, Robin roamed the aisles, a small stack of VHS tapes in her hands, placing each one in its rightful place on the shelf. Every so often, she’d glance toward Steve, as if expecting some lively remark, but he remained lost in his thoughts.
“Hey,” Robin called, sliding a Night of the Comet tape onto the appropriate rack. “So… Vicky and I were talking the other night, and we thought, maybe this weekend…” She paused, drifting closer to the register so her voice wouldn’t echo.
Steve raised an eyebrow, still drumming his fingers on the counter. “Yeah, maybe what?”
Robin placed the last tape in her stack onto the shelf with a gentle thud. “Well, we’re making dinner. A real dinner—you know, in an actual kitchen, with actual groceries. Vicky wants me to learn her mom’s lasagna recipe. The whole shebang.” Her bright eyes searched his face. “Why don’t you come over? Eat with us?”
To anyone else, that might sound like a friendly suggestion. But there was a flicker in Robin’s eyes that Steve knew well: an undercurrent of pity. After all, he’d gone on a date last weekend that hadn’t exactly gone well. He was used to being the one with endless charm, the guy who always had a witty quip or a warm smile to keep a conversation going. Yet none of that had worked on Tanya—no matter how hard he tried. God was he trying.
Steve sighed, pushing himself upright. “Yeah… no.”
Robin visibly balked, confusion knitting her brows. “What do you mean, ‘yeah… no’? You can’t just respond to an invitation like that.”
“Exactly how I just did,” he said, mouth tilting into a faint, lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m not interrupting your date night just because you feel bad for me. I know you guys are trying to, like, throw me a bone or whatever.”
Robin’s cheeks puffed out in a mock sigh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned away, pretending to occupy herself by adjusting a crooked VHS case. The slight shift in her voice told him otherwise. She always was a terrible liar. 
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though the memory of last weekend pricked at him more than he liked to admit. Tanya had been gorgeous—dark hair, lovely eyes, a laugh that could probably stop traffic. At first glance, she was the perfect fit. But after an hour of him asking question after question and receiving nothing but uninterested one-word answers, he’d realised that appearances weren't enough to carry a conversation. The spark was missing, that intangible something that made him want to stay, to laugh, to learn more. It just wasn’t there. He was beginning to think it never would be, at least for him.
Robin finally turned back. “Okay, so maybe I know you’ve been bummed. But it’s not pity, Steve.” She rolled her eyes. “Vicky genuinely likes you. We both do.”
“Sure,” Steve said, gently drumming his fingers again. “Vicky likes me enough to let me crash her romantic, candle-lit dinner with her girlfriend.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Yeah, that’s not weird at all.”
Robin shot him a look. “It’s not weird if we invite you. And besides, it’s not like this is going to be some super fancy dinner. There might be candles, but that’s only so I can see the food properly, okay?”
Steve snorted, though the weight in his chest didn’t quite lift. “Look, Rob, I appreciate it,” he said, voice softening. “I do. But I’m not sure I’m up for third-wheeling on a Saturday night. I think it’s safer for everyone if I steer clear, especially given your experimental cooking.”
She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “Wow, way to appreciate me trying to feed you.” Though she spoke jokingly, she studied his face for signs of deeper sadness. He was Steve Harrington—he was supposed to be the one with the perpetual easy grin. But ever since his dating and social life had crashed and burned, Robin could see the twinge of hurt in his eyes. He was insecure. He liked to feel needed, he always had. He had no problem giving himself to others. So watching everyone else find their person only made him more self-conscious. The truth was nobody needed him, and that knowledge was slowly eating away at him.
“You know,” Robin added, resting her hands on the cart that held a few more tapes, “it’s not just about the date. I get it—you’re lonely. It’s okay to admit that. We’ve all been there.”
He opened his mouth, his gaze slipping away to look out the window at a slow-moving car. The driver was just a blur behind the glass, but it gave him something to focus on. Because she was right. He was lonely, and part of him wanted to accept Robin’s invitation so badly. The other part of him couldn’t bear to insert himself as a third wheel—he knew that feeling too well. He’d spent years longing for something real, something effortlessly mutual. Maybe he’d find it eventually, but not if he was hanging around a couple who only extended the invite out of sympathy.
“Okay,” Robin said, exhaling the tension that had built up between them. “If you change your mind, call me. Seriously, no guilt trip, no questions asked. Vicky won’t mind. We’ll have a plate ready.”
A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth. It still looked like it held a bit of sadness but he covered it up to not upset her further. “Yeah. Thanks, Rob. I promise, if I get the sudden urge for a crisp lasagna—”
“Hey!”
He grinned for real this time. “—I’ll give you a call. Right now, though, I think I’m just gonna stick to renting a movie and ordering takeout. Maybe keep my Saturday night simple.”
Robin nodded, accepting his declination. Her gaze lingered, and she wanted to push harder, but she knew Steve well enough to sense that pushing too much would only drive him further into his own shell. “Alright,” she said softly, reaching out to pat his arm. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.”
“I know. And thanks.” He meant it.
Their eyes met before Robin moved off to shelve the remaining tapes. He watched her go, then slowly leaned forward on the counter again. Outside, the sun was getting a little brighter, illuminating the Family Video sign and casting reflections across the empty parking lot. He was trying to think about whatever movie he would undoubtedly be bringing home with him for the weekend, alone. That is, until he sees you.
You’re walking at an unhurried pace, shoulders slightly hunched against the cool breeze, but there’s something about you that holds his attention. The way your outfit matches in a way that feels effortless but intentional, the way your hair catches the light, styled just enough to suggest effort but not so much that it seems like you’re trying too hard. 
You push open the glass door, and the bell above gives a soft jingle that seems to echo in the stillness. The warmth of the store envelops you, a cozy contrast to the lingering chill outside. Rows of tapes tower around you, aisles lit by bulbs that buzz quietly in the background. It all feels a bit nostalgic, not too intimidating. 
Behind the front counter, Steve stands with his elbows braced on the worn surface. For a second, it looks like you’ve interrupted him mid-daydream—his brown eyes are distant. The moment you step inside, he blinks, and you can practically see the switch flip as you catch him. Suddenly, he’s all awareness, standing straighter, swallowing once. A faint flush colours the tips of his ears, though he tries to hide it by running a hand through his hair.
He looks at you in a way that he hopes is welcoming, he’s not sure if he should say something immediately or give you space to browse. There is a gentle lift of his shoulders as he inhales, working up the courage to speak. You offer a polite nod and slide toward the nearest aisle before he can get a word out.
He exhales a shaky breath he didn’t realise he was holding, mind racing as he tries to place you. He can’t recall seeing you here before, and he was certain he would remember if you had. He drags his fingers over the keyboard, tapping random keys to pretend he’s busy. In truth, all he wants is to keep glancing your way. It was maddening forcing his attention to the computer screen. 
You wander among the rows, taking in the titles. There’s something oddly comforting about the smell of plastic VHS covers. Occasionally, you catch sight of Steve peeking over from the desk, just for a moment, before he ducks back down to avoid being caught staring. You find yourself smiling at his obvious attempt to be casual.
He, meanwhile, is silently scolding himself. He knew he was being weird—God, he needs to get a grip. But there’s a traitorous part of him that can’t help noticing the delicate way your hair frames your face, or the look of your jacket—well worn, well loved, taken care of. Even though your aura was disarming, he felt like he was in high school all over again, unable to stop staring at the pretty girl in the corridor.
Eventually, you settle on a tape, The Empire Strikes Back—something classic you’ve been meaning to watch again. Taking a steadying breath, you head to the counter, the plastic case clutched in your hand. As you approach, he forces himself to appear relaxed, collected, though inside he’s buzzing with anticipation.
“Um, hey… Steve,” you look up from his name tag, placing the tape before him. His eyes dart down to the cover, then back up to you. “Do you work here?”
The moment you say it, you realise how silly it sounds—he’s in the company vest, with a company name tag on it. Heat flares across your cheeks.
A laugh bubbles out of him—warm, kind. He shakes his head gently as if to say, Don’t worry about it. “Yeah, I do.” 
You nod, cheeks still burning from your awkward question. “Yes. Sorry, I, uh… obviously you work here.”
“Nah, no problem. I’ve gotten weirder questions,” his smile widens, softening around the edges. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. “Good pick, by the way.”
As he scans the tape, you notice the slight tremor in his hand. It’s barely there, but you sense the sweet, nervous energy radiating from him. His gaze flickers to you, then back to the screen, then to you again—like he can’t quite decide which deserves his attention more. You, probably.
“So, um,” he starts, clearing his throat, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you… new in town?” He tries to sound casual, but a hopeful note creeps into his voice, as though he’s crossing his fingers for you to keep talking.
You brighten at the question, happy to have something normal to say. “I am, actually. I just moved here a few days ago. The apartment is literally right across the street—well, I think you can see it from the window.”
His eyes widened with interest and with the knowledge of your close proximity. “Yeah? Pretty convenient if you want a movie.” And maybe to see me, he almost adds. “So, when exactly did you move in?”
“Three days ago,” you reply, letting out a breathy exhale at the memory. “I’ve been knee-deep in boxes ever since. I finally decided I deserved a break, and what better way than a movie night to make the new place feel more like home, right?”
He nods fervently, excitement sparking behind his eyes. “That’s true. Shame I wasn’t working that day—maybe I could’ve, I don’t know… helped haul a box or two?” He offers a tiny shrug, his words stumbling a bit as he realises how forward that might sound. “I mean, not that I… I just… you know,” he begins to backtrack.
A warm giggle escapes you, putting him at ease. “I appreciate the thought. My arms hurt for, like, the whole day afterwards.”
He huffs a little chuckle, feeling relief wash over him when you don’t seem put off. “Exactly.”
He glances around the store for Robin knowing she’s probably lurking somewhere, listening in with a sly grin. But in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care too much; he wants you to have his full attention.
“If you don’t have a membership yet,” he says, fishing around under the counter for a form, “you’ll need to fill this out.” He slides a paper and pen toward you.
“Right, I’m totally new,” you reply, stepping closer to read the sheet. As you lean in, Steve notices the light scent of your shampoo—or maybe your perfume—and it makes his pulse skip. He’s had customers before, obviously, but none have made him feel this flustered. It wasn't a feeling he necessarily disliked. 
Fighting the urge to stare too obviously, he busies himself with looking at the returns papers, occasionally sneaking a glance your way. He notices the way your brow furrows as you fill in the different boxes, huffing to yourself when you wrote your previous address, crossing it out and starting again. It was so human, so endearing, he had to turn away fully or his amused smile would give him away. 
Once you’ve filled out the form, you pass it back. He types in your details, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he commits your name to memory. “Perfect,” he tells you, printing out a fresh membership card and sliding it across the counter.
“Thanks,” you say, tucking it into your wallet. “Feels official now.”
He can’t help but feel upset that this moment is slipping away—any second, you’ll thank him, smile, and leave. Then he’ll be stuck behind the counter once again, replaying this conversation over and over until you come to return it, which could be a week from now. That would be unacceptable.
He clears his throat. “Uh, so,” he begins, voice wavering ever so slightly. “You got any big plans this weekend? Since you’re, you know, new here.” You could tell he was aiming for confident, but that casual tone of his falters as he seems genuinely invested in your response. 
His smile drops as he hears your reply. “Actually, yeah, I do,” his heart sinks, mind already going into overdrive. You’re probably telling him politely to let him down. He knew he was being too brazen, but he couldn’t stop the embarrassment from settling in his chest. 
“I need to head into town and get some furniture,” you explain as his head looks up, stopping him from spiralling. “I heard there’s a store a few miles away?”
He smiles at the fact that you’re still talking and didn’t just shut him down, you’re just busy—and that’s okay. “Oh, yeah,” he nods eagerly. “There is, um, it’s about a ten-minute drive, tops. Depends on traffic, I guess, but Hawkins isn’t exactly wild.” He lets out a weak laugh. “What are you, uh, looking for?”
“Mostly a bookshelf. I thought I could just stack my books, but they’re already in danger of tumbling over.”
He is listening, but a large part of him is cursing how little attention he paid in English class. Wishing he could humour you more. “That’s cool,” he says safely. “So, you’re a big reader?”
You nod, eyes lighting up. “Oh absolutely, I love getting lost in a story.”
He can’t help but think how sweet you are, the warmth in your expression filling his stomach, urging him past his nerves to finally ask what he had been wanting to. “Well, if you need help lugging that thing up the stairs to your apartment, I’m, uh… not working this weekend.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he realises that, once again, it may have been too forward. 
“Really?” You ask, face brightening before he had the chance to overthink. “That’d be great! I was kind of worried about getting it back here on my own.”
His heart does that little flip at your acceptance of his offer. He nods enthusiastically, a few rogue hairs settling on his forehead, making his appearance more boyish. 
“It’s no problem,” he tells you as he puts his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed as if this wasn’t the most exciting opportunity to happen to him all year. “I’ve got a car that’s… well, it’s big enough. Definitely more roomy than your average trunk. If yours can’t handle the bookshelf, mine can.”
You break into a grateful grin. “Wow, that’s really nice of you. Seriously.”
A blush creeps across his cheeks at your kind words, his face turning bashful. “Honestly, it’s no big deal at all.” It really wasn't, if all it takes is transporting some furniture to spend more time with you, he would gladly do it.
You lift your shoulders in a shrug, feeling slightly indebted. “Well, at least let me buy you a coffee or something afterwards, to say thanks. I insist.”
“No, that’s—” He starts to protest, but the look on your face tells him you’re determined. It’s kind of adorable how your eyebrows pinch together.
“I insist,” you repeat, a little more firmly, and he laughs quietly. So you're stubborn, he can work with that.
“Alright,” he concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. “Coffee it is. How about…” Think, Steve, think. “Saturday morning, I can meet you out front, say, 10:30? Unless that’s too early?” In truth, he’d be ready at sunrise if it meant spending more time with you, but he doesn't want to sound desperate.
“That’s perfect,” you say, beaming as you pick up your rented tape. “Thank you again, Steve.”
“Sure,” he replied, feeling a grin stretch across his face, so genuine it almost hurts his cheeks. He is shocked at how he managed to do this. How—by some miracle—you of all people had moved across the street. 
You give a small wave, and the door shuts behind you, the bell chiming one last time. His heart is still hammering away as he stares at the closed door, trying to process that he just—did that. He just set up what is basically a date… or at least a coffee situation. Either way, it’s something.
In the sudden quiet, he hears a muffled sound from behind him, and when he spins around, there’s Robin standing in the break room doorway. She’s practically bouncing on her heels, eyes wide with excitement.
“Oh, my God,” she says, not even bothering to hide the grin overtaking her face. “Was that—did you just—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts her off, rolling his eyes even though he can’t keep the giddy smile off his own lips. “Shut up, Robin.”
She doesn’t shut up, but he doesn't mind. All he can think about is Saturday morning, and the way your face lit up when he offered to help you, and how maybe this is going to be the start of something really, really good.
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pukefactory · 2 days ago
Note
HELLO!! May I please request some Bobbette x reader headcannons?
Of course! I hope you enjoy these headcanons.
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˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮ CHERRY LEMONADE ✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖
❆ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Bobette as your girlfriend
❆ Character(s): Bobette (Dandy’s World), Coal (Dandy’s World)
❆ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW
❆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!
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❅ Bobette is already a cheerful and friendly toon, but with you, she’s the sweetest companion imaginable. Caring, inventive, and always by your side, she wants nothing more than to spend time with you and spread holiday cheer. Lively and upbeat, she makes it nearly impossible to stay upset when she’s around.
❅ One of Bobette’s favorite traditions is enjoying cookies with a warm cup of hot cocoa, and naturally, she wants to share that with you! With Tegan’s help, she prepares a big plate of cookies and two oversized mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows—the full works. The two of you cuddle up, savoring your treats and each other’s company. It’s not unusual for you both to drift off during this, with Bobette’s arm around your shoulder as you rest your head against her chest, peacefully napping together.
❅ As a toymaker, Bobette is extremely busy around Christmas, crafting toys to fulfill children’s wishes. But even though she’s the best at what she does, she still appreciates an extra pair of hands. When you offered to help, she was over the moon! She loves having you by her side, even if it means things get a bit messier than usual, with paint scattered everywhere. Over time, you become more skilled, and together, you both produce toys far more quickly than Bobette could on her own. With your help, her work feels even more special.
❅ Speaking of presents, Bobette often gives you gifts she made herself. Whether it’s a toy you specifically requested or something as simple as a new blanket, she always manages to create or find exactly what you wanted—and you couldn’t be more grateful. Bobette makes sure you never go without, and seeing your face light up with happiness and surprise makes it all worthwhile for her. Just be prepared—sometimes, she might give you a few too many gifts!
❅ Being Bobette’s partner means you are partially responsible for looking after Coal, especially when she isn’t around. Coal tolerates you as much as she does everyone else—except for her owner—but she is a bit warmer toward you than she is with others. When Bobette is too busy, it’s up to you to take Coal on small walks and help her move large crates of toys. Of course, she probably likes you more than most because you regularly give her favorite treats, making you very popular in her eyes. Your girlfriend truly appreciates your help with Coal, and you always get plenty of kisses from her after she sees how well her pet rock has been cared for.
❅ It’s probably no surprise that Bobette’s wardrobe consists entirely of Christmas-themed sweaters. However, nearly all of them are at least slightly itchy—if not unbearably so. Neither of you knows why, but they always seem to irritate her skin. As a surprise, you got her a stack of new, non-itchy Christmas sweaters made from the softest, most comfortable material you could find. Needless to say, Bobette was elated and gave you a bone-crushing hug. From that moment on, she only wears the ones you gave her.
❅ Another one of Bobette’s favorite festive activities is making gingerbread houses, and what better way to make it even more fun than doing it with you? She carefully lays out all the supplies before you begin, and it isn’t long before you’re both covered in brightly colored icing, your hands and aprons a complete mess. No matter how much effort you put into decorating, the house always seems to collapse under the weight of gumdrops, peppermint swirls, and mountains of powdered sugar. After a moment of staring at the sugary disaster, you both burst into laughter and give up, helping each other clean the icing off your skin. Her kisses tasted especially sweet that day. You both agree to ask Ginger for help next time.
❅ After finishing her toy making, Bobette loves nothing more than to snuggle up with you and Coal under a warm, cozy blanket. You’re well aware—probably even more than she is—that her constant work leaves her completely exhausted and maybe even a little stressed. You can see it in her eyes; something always seems different once she’s done. Of course, you’d never stop her from doing what she loves, but you make up for it by ensuring your shared bedroom is as comfortable as possible. Soft Christmas lights, freshly baked treats, warm cocoa, plush blankets, and an especially cozy Coal all make her heart swell with happiness. So, you always make sure everything is just right before she returns. She rests easily, comforted by the love and care you put into making her feel at home.
❅ Bobette loves telling you about her adventures with Coal—how they delivered presents in blizzards, how she got frostbite, and how she came so close to meeting Santa himself. Oddly enough, she only seems to share these stories when you’re settling in for bed, which can be a little frustrating since her voice is so soothing that you always fall asleep before hearing how they end. Fortunately, you still remember every detail of each tale, no matter how many times she retells them. Especially the one about Coal dragging Bobette through the snow in a sleigh—you’d love to recreate that someday, even if there’s no snow.
❅ Bobette often attaches a sprig of mistletoe to the end of her hook to steal as many kisses from you as possible—and you fall for it every time. Not that you mind the extra affection, but she loves pulling you into an impossibly tight hug and covering your face with kisses until you’re too breathless to protest. When she finally lets go and you gasp for air, she giggles, apologizes, and insists that you’re simply too cute not to smother with kisses. Honestly, you can’t argue with that. You do love her kisses, after all.
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xjulixred45x · 2 days ago
Note
Hi! Could I ask for some yandere headcanons for Adam's family and a human daughter reader? Please and thank you 💜
Alright!
Platonic!Yandere! Adam/Eve/Caín and Abel x Reader
Genre: Headcanons
Reader: female
Warnings: Yandere content, Yandere behaviors, Platonic yandere, yandere behaviors, unhealty mindset, mentions of being an still born and it's consecuences, overprotection.
Adam
• I think that Adam's obsession with his daughter's safety would be affected if she had had a particularly complicated birth, after all, it was his third baby, it was supposed to be something easy after Abel and Cain, but that didn't stop the reader's life from being in danger multiple times.
• When the reader was finally born, she was small and fragile, she was born prematurely, and she needed constant care, something that her family was more than willing to provide.
• Adam is obviously the most overprotective with his first daughter, in general the world outside of Eden is very dangerous, he has to take care of all the members of his family. Obviously including the new acquisition.
• Since the reader was born, Adam had a certain favoritism, precisely because the little girl had a great resemblance to Eve, her eyes, her hair, her laugh, which also leads him to be more indulgent with her.
• Adam is against the idea of any of his children feeling left out, so he makes sure that Cain and Abel interact with Reader. Very carefully, though, after all, their sister is VERY fragile, get it?
• He enjoys the stage where Reader is a baby, being able to hold her, play with her, make her laugh with funny faces, in general he enjoys the time when Reader is a pure and innocent being, not knowing the cruelty of the outside world.
• Adam, as I said, is very overprotective of his daughter, more so as she grows and begins to learn things, like walking, how to talk, what she can and cannot eat, etc.
• Adam is always a few steps behind his daughter, just to make sure she is taking a “safe approach,” and there is no way to escape or sneak away, not with the divine reflection on his side.
• Adam is very patient with his children, especially when reader starts some kind of rebellious phase, he understands it, we all have a moment like that (after all, it's thanks to this that they were born), however, the primordial man will not let his daughter put herself in danger.
• For example, he will not let her go somewhere where the gods are. This may be the most rational of all, considering his past with them and the role they played in banishing Eve. That is something reader can understand and respect.
• What she cannot respect is that Adam even restricts her interactions with other humans! even scaring them so they don't talk to her! that is just unfair!
• Although we agree that talking to Adam about it is like talking to a wall, it is impossible to move. He believes that everyone is a potential enemy, that everyone can harm his family, especially his little girl.
• Adam is one of those Yandere parents who thinks their kids can do absolutely nothing wrong, no matter if the evidence is right in front of them (whether they try to run away, tell them they hate them or insult them, be a bad person, etc.). Nope, his babies are ANGELS.
• And even more importantly, he's the kind of Yandere parent you can never get rid of, no matter if you try to be more independent once you're in Valhalla, you'll never be too far from Daddy Adam. Good luck.
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Eve
• Eve was the most affected by Reader's birth obviously, not only physically but mentally.
• She had never had a birth as painful as Reader's, not even with Cain, which definitely made her so exhausted when Reader was actually born, that she couldn't even hold her.
• A part of Eve was so scared that Reader would die, because the pain was so bad (and she didn't want to imagine if Reader was going through the same pain), praying to any god that would hear her not to let her baby die, being so relieved when she heard her cry for the first time.
• It was only a few days later that Eve was recovered enough to hold her daughter, it was the first time she saw a girl (she had already seen other babies with Abel and Cain, but this was totally different), and she was the most precious creature in the world.
• Eve is much less invasive, she is overprotective, yes, but she wants her daughter to grow up, she wants her beautiful offspring to become a full-fledged wild flower.
• For this reason, she is Reader's greatest ally when it comes to calming Adán's insecurities, she is the only person he will really listen to, who will pay attention to over his children. She can either distract him long enough for Reader and her siblings to sneak away or she can directly convince him to tone down some of his tendencies.
• That doesn't mean that Eve herself doesn't have unhealthy tendencies regarding her children, she just knows how to control herself better.
• She collects absolutely everything that children leave behind when they grow up, be it toys, clothes, probably even teeth when they start to fall out.
• She is also very dramatic when Reader gets sick, constantly bringing her homemade food and medicine, crying at her bedside, begging her not to die, to the point where Cain and Abel have to drag her out of the room.
• Eve is also somewhat possessive, she likes to spend a lot of time with Reader, and will automatically be bitter for the rest of the day if anyone (other than Adam or her sons) decides to interrupt said “quality” time between mother and daughter.
• She excuses this as “since Adam and the boys have the right to have boy time, they also deserve girl time” but it is just an excuse to have more time with her daughter just for herself.
• She loves to talk to Reader like she is a baby, generally spoiling her a lot, but she doesn’t realize much of the time that this can make her feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? From her family? Who put those ideas in her head?!?
• She is also very quick to make assumptions. As you can see…
• Fortunately, she is much more naive than Adam, so if you play your cards right, she can be your greatest ally when it comes to having your alone time or getting away from this crazy family for a while.
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Caín and Abel
These two share a braincell i swear
• THESE TWO ARE THE EPITOME OF NOSY BROTHERS.
• But really.
• I feel like initially, they were both very excited to have a younger sister, having been just the two of them for quite a while, a new companion wouldn't hurt at all.
• However, when the time came and reader wasn't born, causing Eve great pain, the brothers started to get very scared. This was something new, and something they didn't like, their mother was suffering a lot. When was this going to stop?
• When reader was finally born and Eve was laid up for several days, both Abel and Cain acted like they were standing around eggshells, thinking that the baby would put them through great pain like it did with their mother.
• Fortunately, they were scolded by Adam for even thinking that, and he made Cain hold his sister for the first time (even if he was shaky).
• And you can imagine his surprise when he felt absolutely no pain, just something heavy and warm on his chest. Looking at him curiously.
• After verifying that the baby did not cause them any pain, it became a tug of war to see who was still holding her between the two, but at least the issue of rejection towards reader was resolved, perhaps too well.
• Cain and Abel tried in many ways to become reader's favorites while she was growing up, whether it was playing with her, bringing her nice things, but above all protecting her.
• They act very similar to their father in many ways, they are overprotective to an unhealthy degree, wanting to prevent reader from doing this or that, preventing her from stepping in puddles of mud or water because “she could get sick”, going so far as to accuse her to Adam if she did something “dangerous”.
• This created a love-hate relationship between the brothers and sister, on one hand Cain and Abel would do anything for her (except give her absolute freedom. Who needs that with a family that does everything for you? Silly), while the reader didn't see them any differently than an inmate sees his prison guard.
• Fortunately, just as they resemble their father, they also inherited several aspects from their mother.
• Both are very needy of the reader's approval, as I said before, they would do ANYTHING for her.
• If the reader uses words well, she can make them, involuntarily, help her escape more than once (or simply accept certain conditions like her having friends/partners), either by asking them for things or some objects, in exchange for being her “favorite brother”
• And they fall right into her trap. But that doesn't matter, even if they eventually realize that their sister is only using them for her own benefit, to do things that their father doesn't approve of and that distress their mother, they don't care.
• All that matters is that she is happy because of them, even if they receive some punishment, they are okay with it, they would endure it all over again, all to see their sister happy.
• If that's how things are, they will play along. For her.
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differenteagletragedy · 2 days ago
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In which Soap's significant other/spouse dies unexpectedly :(
“Aren’t you afraid of dying?”
It was a question Johnny had been asked countless times over the years: in hushed, anxious tones by his mother in visits home, when she still held onto hopes that her son would pick a safer life, and in slurred, almost voyeuristic voices from girls he’d pick up in bars.
And the answer was always no. An easy, thoughtless no, because he wasn’t, not really.
Now, as he stands in front of the mirror of the bedroom you used to share until you were taken from him, he realizes why.
The hard part isn’t in dying. If something were to happen to him on the field, it would likely be quick — a gunshot, an explosion, with no time to think about what it would mean to no longer exist. And even if his last moments were drawn out, there would be an ending to it in sight. A clear cap on whatever suffering there would be.
No, the hard part wasn’t in the idea of leaving this world. It was in being left.
Johnny takes a breath, tugging up the pants of his dress uniform -- the only nice clothes he had, and the ones he'd wear to bury you.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, and the weight of that knowledge threated to drag him down, so hard and heavy that he wasn't sure he'd be able to carry it. After he fell in love with you, really let himself fall and feel it, it broke his heart to know that someday he might die on you. Thoughts of your sweet, beautiful face, crumped and lined with tears when someone told you he'd never be coming home would flicker in his mind during missions sometimes, always unwelcome. They haunted him.
It never even crossed his mind that he'd be the one on the other side.
He shrugs on his jacket, lines still crisp from when he'd hung it up in the back of the closet after moving in with you, and quickly does up the buttons and tugs it into place. He looks at his reflection, but it's all wrong. Who gives a fuck about medals and ribbons and how nicely the seams are pressed when he's never going to hear your laugh again?
But it's not just that, the awkward formality of it all -- his eyes come up to his hair, too. He's always liked the mohawk (obviously he has, or he wouldn't have kept it this long), but seeing it now feels almost shameful in a way that doesn't necessarily make sense but still burns.
He's in the bathroom, decked out his dress blues with clumps of dark hair lining the sink, when Simon comes in.
Johnny barely remembers this -- some plans made at some point in the last week for Simon to come help him with everything. Did he give him a key, has he been locking the door? Ever since he got the news, things have been happening in waves of clarity and a strange foggy dissonance, so he can't be sure what's real, or if it matters.
The deep, familiar tone of Simon's voice as he says his name though ... that feels real. The feeling of his fingers brushing against his chest as he unbuttons his jacket and carefully dusts it off, countless tiny hairs falling to the floor, that's crystal clear.
Johnny's own voice sounds further away, a rush of words coming out that barely registers in his mind. "Feels like a fucking joke," he tells Simon, but what he's talking about, he's not exactly sure.
Simon tells him a number of things, rattling them off in clipped, calm sentences, enough to start to push through the fog, and he doesn't fight it when he takes the clippers from his hand and spins him around, saying something about cleaning him up.
"Just get through the day," his lieutenant tells him over the buzzing. It almost sounds like an order, and Johnny, ever the good soldier, gives an affirmative hum, like it's possible.
When Simon finishes with the clippers, he grabs Johnny's jacket again, holding it out for him to put back on, and when he does, he rebuttons it for him. He systematically goes over the insignia, strong, steady hands making sure everything is in order, and Johnny could almost weep at the small relief of not having to worry about one more thing.
But more than that, Simon's hands feel like an anchor, like a tangible weight holding him to now. There's warmth radiating from his body, and it's not like yours -- he doesn't think he'll ever be able to find a warmth like yours again -- but it's there. It's something, and after days of wallowing in your empty home, smelling your pillow and cradling your clothes and letting himself cry in a way that he hasn't since he was a child, it's a hell of a lot better than nothing.
"You ready?"
Simon's words are phrased like a question, but Johnny picks up on the tone -- another order. It's time.
And he's not ready, not even close. His stomach turns at the thought of seeing your lifeless body laid out in a casket in clothes he picked, and everything in him is screaming, telling him to run, far and fast and hard, from all of this.
But, as always, he's been hardwired to obey his superiors. So instead, he nods.
The funeral is unbearable, but somehow, Johnny bears it. And later, when the grief has settled into an old achy wound instead of bared nerves burning, he'll know that it was because of Simon. Because of his presence beside him, an occasional hand on his shoulder, calloused and sure, that kept him tethered to him when all he wanted to do was float away.
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valenteal · 4 hours ago
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Ok so I know we all wish there was more reaction in canon to the revelation of Dazai’s past. But I think there’s more of a reaction than people realize. It’s like the entire dynamic shifts after the meeting with the mafia. And it’s easy to attribute this to things getting more serious, more dangerous, because no one mentions Dazai being the reason for it. But I think it’s important to understand about these characters that the not saying anything is extremely indicative of their feelings on the matter. I think the tension is mostly glossed over because at the end of the day this is still Atsushi’s story and he’s kinda oblivious to it. But Dazai and Kunikida aren’t really partners after that, their interactions go way down, their banter is no longer a staple of the series. And Dazai wasn’t really close enough with anyone else to see major changes in his relationships with them, but we can guess based on what we do know.
For one thing, anyone thinking Fukuzawa already knew, sorry to burst your bubble but Taneda didn’t tell him jack. In fact Dazai made up a story about randomly meeting him at a bar and Taneda offering to find him a job if he won a bet or something. Dazai lied to Fukuzawa just as much as anyone else, he had elaborate cover stories. Fukuzawa told Kunikida to shoot him if he showed a hint of malicious intent but Dazai managed to worm his way out of that disguising it as his solution to the case/a suicide attempt. He pretended to be the bad guy to put on a show for the people listening in, and create an excuse for the listening device to be destroyed and gave Kunikida enough hints that he’d think twice about actually shooting him and pretended he wanted him to do it. It’s a very masterfully done scheme really, because Kunikida was so wrapped up in how it affected the case that he miss took Dazai’s innocence in the case for a lack of hidden evil. Kunikida definitely saw a side of Dazai that would make the President say “shoot him” but he didn’t even realize it because it was connected to solving the case. And when he lists off all the things he has problems with about Dazai it’s all about his unprofessional behavior and laziness and he doesn’t even mention that Dazai was so incredibly good at playing the bad guy that it didn’t feel fake. He didn’t mention the chilling aura. Dazai distracted him with all his other bad behavior.
But Ranpo must have known right? Well he certainly knew something was off about Dazai immediately after meeting him even without putting his glasses on. But I don’t think even he could have deduced Dazai’s past with the information he had. Because you have to remember that Dazai’s crimes were erased by Mushitaro’s ability and that Ranpo specializes in understanding crime scenes, not psychological profiling. Ranpo uses physical evidence for the most part and he needs knowledge of the crime to find the perpetrator. I don’t think it works the other way around. Not to mention that Fukuzawa trusts Kunikida and Kunikida said Dazai passed his entrance exam so Ranpo probably didn’t choose to look too closely at Dazai.
Anyway, the point is no one at the agency knew Dazai was in the mafia until the Guild arc. And Dazai’s interactions with the rest of the agency changed after that revelation. I think only Atsushi, Kyouka, and Kenji don’t change how they see him, because Atsushi is Atsushi, Kyouka probably already knew from when she captured him and his pep talk made her more comfortable with the idea, and Kenji is Kenji. Everyone else though? It’s a shock. And a lot of them probably just don’t know how to handle it. It helps that they got Kyouka around the same time it was revealed but Dazai had been lying to all their faces for two years at that point and he showed absolutely no remorse for that. Dazai doesn’t make a big deal of it, doesn’t try to make excuses for himself, doesn’t try to justify anything. Without him starting the conversation none of them have a way to comfortably bring up the subject. And because none of them (except Kenji) knows how to communicate in a healthy way, they just end up stewing with the information without fully processing it or acknowledging it. They’re stuck in this limbo of doubt and discomfort. It’s actually incredibly nuanced and I bet it’s all going to come to a head at some point in the near future and it’s going to be that much more satisfying for the wait.
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justanothermemestrider · 17 hours ago
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Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 9
Sgt Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC
Someone break out the confetti and the party poppers cause IT'S FINALE DAY BABYYYYY 🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊🥳🥳🥳
(if you need to catch up, the masterlist with all the previous parts is here)
We got typical 40kness and some real nsfw-ness under the cut, as well as inevitable spelling and grammar mistakes, which I apologise for.
I got a longer A/N at the very end, so for now, thank you for reading, and if you'd like, please consider liking, reblogging or commenting :)
Enjoy!
Despite Titus’ offers, Gadriel does not stay in the lieutenant’s quarters nor return to his own. Instead, he heads straight for the training hall. He needs to exorcise this anxiety. Flush it out with sweat and rage. It’s the only thing he can think of that might help. 
It doesn’t.
He lifts weights, punches bags and swings training blades. But no matter how much he exerts himself, his mind will not rest. Soon, his still-healing wounds start to twinge. But Gadriel welcomes it; pursues it, even. Pushes his body to the point of pain in the hope that it might smother his thoughts and distract him from his feelings. 
But that doesn't work either. Even when it pushes him to tears. Even when he's forced to take a knee and lean on his training blade because it feels like his stomach might just tear open. The fear won't fade. The frustration won't fade. The guilt, the worry, the helplessness… 
Gadriel drops his chin to his chest. He's breathing hard. Sweat pours down his bare chest and runs down his face. Soon, though, it is joined by tears. And his breathing becomes interrupted by choking sobs.
I can't lose her. Like some sort of twisted carousel, those same four words spin around and around in his head. I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. 
With a grunt, Gadriel forces himself to his feet. He returns his blade to its rack before collecting his shirt and stalking out of the training hall. He’s bound for his quarters, but it isn’t to rest or cool off. He needs his undersuit, his armour. He’s not going to let her spend one more minute locked in another cell, waiting for death. Damn what Titus had told him. Damn what the Codex or his duty demands of him. Those things had taken her from him; wiped her from his mind, made him break his promise without him even realising it. But no longer. Never again.
Because I can’t lose her. Not again. I can’t. 
He reaches his quarters in no time. Once again, his serfs have left the door unlocked and Gadriel curses them for it under his breath. Usually, he would only reserve a modicum of irritation for such a thing, but with how dark his mood is at present, it feels like a personal slight. 
The door slides open as he approaches. Eyes low, Gadriel thunders inside like a storm. 
“Not a bad place you’ve got here.”
Gadriel staggers to a halt. Both of his hearts stop dead in his chest. 
“Smaller than what I expected,” Ellie says thoughtfully. “What with how big you are and how much space you take up. But still, it’s nice. Almost… quaint.”
She’s perched on his bunk, one leg drawn up towards her chest, the other hanging off the bed’s edge. Her tattered tunic and leggings have been replaced by a grey jumpsuit that Gadriel recognises as a repurposed engineering uniform. Still short of a prosthetic arm, Ellie has tied the sleeve on its left side into a knot at the shoulder. And that’s not the only modification she’s made. She has cinched the suit’s waist with a leather belt so as to show off her figure and left the front unzipped to reveal the low v-neck of the tank top she’s wearing underneath. She grins as Gadriel takes in the sight of her; the fact that she’s here, right now. Alive and free and smiling. 
Ellie opens her mouth to say something, probably some other quip or humorous remark. But before she can, Gadriel has her in his arms. Dropping to his knees in front of where she sits, dragging her into his body, holding her as if she might turn to ash in his grip at any moment. 
Tears well within his eyes. He buries his face into Ellie’s neck before letting them fall.
Despite how tightly he’s holding her, Ellie manages to free her arm and wrap it around his neck. Gadriel feels her cheek press against his, hears her chuckling softly. 
“It’s good to see you, too,” she says. 
“What are you doing here?” Gadriel asks. His voice is muffled by her hair and the crook of her neck. “How are you here? Did you escape?”
“Escape? No! No, nothing like that.” Gently, Ellie starts to draw away, presumably to meet his eye. Gadriel, however, refuses to let her go.
“Gadriel,” she says softly. She brings her hand to the back of his head, runs her fingers up and down his scalp soothingly. “It’s alright. I’m okay. I’m not in any danger, I promise.” 
Gadriel waits one cycle of deep, ragged breath before finally relaxing his grip. His arms, however, remain firmly wrapped around her. Ellie pulls away, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze up to meet her own. 
“What’s going on?” he asks. 
“Sit down. This is… this might take a bit to explain.” 
Gadriel does as she says, getting to his feet before joining her on the bunk. He sits on her right side, taking her hand in both of his enormous ones. Ellie smiles lightly, but she must see the worry still lingering in Gadriel’s face, because immediately after, her expression turns reassuring.
“Titus and I have worked something out,” she says. “A way for me to stay here with you without putting either of us at risk.”
“How?” Gadriel’s tone is sharper than he’d intended. Already, he’s wary of this “way”. As much as he trusts Titus, any compromise made with the laws of the Imperium is a dangerous thing. Dangerous, and rarely without sacrifice. 
Ellie continues. “Did Titus tell you that he had Magos Galeo examine my cybernetics?”
“Yes. He said the results were dire.”
“That’s… certainly a word for it,” Ellie says ruefully. “But it wasn’t the one the Magos used. See, he called it “extraordinary.””
Gadriel narrows his eyes. Without thinking, his grip around Ellie’s hand tightens. Ellie picks up on it right away. “I know what you’re thinking, and at first, I was thinking it, too. But Galeo doesn’t wanna dissect me- he wants to recruit me. As a sort of… unofficial apprentice-slash-assistant.”
“And you agreed to this?” 
“I mean… yeah,” Ellie says. “It was either that or I try to become a chapter serf. But that never would’ve worked; not when I’m eighty-percent alien metal. If my life was placed under the jurisdiction of the Ultramarines, I’d have been executed on the spot.”
“I would also never ask you to indent yourself to anyone,” Gadriel adds. “Not even to me.”
That makes Ellie smile. “Oh, you sweetheart you.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” Leaning into him, she rests her head on his shoulder. “And I’d have never put you in that position.” 
“So… a Magos’ assistant, huh?” 
“Far as ad-mech go, Galeo seems pretty chilled-out. He wants to still study me, of course- that’s really the only reason he wants to keep me close. But his rank will mean I’m well-protected, and my status as an unofficial member of The Machine Cult will keep pretty much everyone else off my back, for the most part.” He feels her shrug. “It’s the best I can hope for. Titus thinks so too. Besides, could be fun. As creepy as the ad-mech can be, they’re fascinating in their own way.” 
Gadriel is quiet for a moment. He looks down at his lap, where he’s holding Ellie’s hand. It’s entirely dwarfed by his own, enormous ones, as if she were a porcelain doll. 
“Gadriel? Are you okay?”
Unable to look at her, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry you can’t just… stay.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ellie replies. 
“I know, but… it feels like it is.”
“Why’s that?”
Gadriel sighs. In the pit of his stomach, something hot and heavy is pulling at him. The same thing that’d driven him to his knees back at the training hall. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I… I just wish there was something I could do. But the only thing I can think of is leaving the Ultramarines, and I can’t even do that.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m useless to you, Ellie,” he murmurs. “I can’t protect you. I’ve never been able to protect you. Not from the Underhive. Not from Severus. Not even now.” 
Ellie sits up, leaving his skin cold as she lifts her head from his shoulder. She withdraws her hand as well, and in his state of emotion, Gadriel fears she is about to leave. But instead, she brings her hand to his face. There’s pain in her eyes, but it isn’t hers. It’s his. 
“Gadriel, listen to me,” she says. “This arrangement with the Magos… it’s not your fault. It’s my choice. If I wanted, I could have chosen exile. I could’ve fled to some backwater sector, put down a few roots and live the rest of my life in relative peace. But I don’t want that, Gadriel. Not as much as I want to be with you.” 
Gadriel goes to shake his head, but Ellie stops him by tightening her grasp. Gently, she caresses his cheek with her thumb.
“And everything else that has happened to me,” she continues. “It isn’t your fault, either. You didn’t abandon me; you were taken away. And when they had you, you had as much of a choice in what you did as I did when Severus took me. I understand that now. I didn’t at first, and I’m so sorry for the things I said to you then. But now I do. And I don’t blame you for any of it.”
The affection in her gaze is almost too much for Gadriel to withstand. When was the last time someone had looked at him like that? With so much love; not for his service or his position or his duty, but simple, genuine love for him? 
Of course… It had been her.
“And, you know,” Ellie continues. “Now that I think about it, in the end, you didn’t even break your promise, either. You did come back. It may have been by coincidence, and it may have been fifty years late, but you did it. You came back to me. Just like you-”
Gadriel leans across and kisses her hard on the lips, smothering her last words. Cradling her cheeks with hands too gentle for their size and design. If the kiss takes Ellie by surprise, she doesn't show it at all. Sliding her hand up the back of his head, she tangles her fingers in his hair; her favourite thing to do when they kiss, ever since they were teenagers. With that thought, a surge of memories overcomes him; the first time she'd kissed him, during one of the many night they'd spend gazing up at the stars from the roof of his mother's slum; all the kisses of good luck, goodnight and goodbye that had followed; the kiss that had led to their first night shared together. Like a river finally freed from a concrete dam, all these memories come flooding back to him. With every one that returns, his love for her swells more and more. 
Ellie is sitting in his lap now. Knees either side of his waist, her breath growing short as she works her mouth against his. Gadriel can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, the squeeze of her thighs as she straddles him, his hips almost too broad for her legs. Tension coils in his belly. A wave of heat flushes his entire body before pooling between his legs. He lets himself fall backward, pulling Ellie with him so she's flush against his front. The bunk creaks with the impact. The weight of her body on top of his floods Gadriel's nerves with a concoction of comfort and pleasure so potent it almost makes him gasp. It also twinges the wounds in his right side, and the gasp that pulls from him, Gadriel can't manage to stifle. 
Ellie breaks the kiss, pulling away and looking at him in concern. “What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Sheepishly, Gadriel shakes his head. “I'm fine. It's only my side.”
“Oh, Throne!” Despite her dark complexion, Gadriel sees Ellie's cheeks suddenly redden. “I completely forgot, I'm sorry!”
Gadriel laughs. “You're fine. Don't worry.”
She runs her hand through his hair. The sensation sends goosebumps prickling across his skin. “If you say so,” she whispers. “Though, maybe it'd be better if you were on top; less chance of me accidently bumping you, then.”
For a handful of moments, Gadriel doesn't understand her full meaning. When he finally does, his eyes blow wide. “Do…Do  you mean-”
“Throne, Gadriel, you're giving me deja vu here.” Ellie grins from ear to ear. “Yes. That's exactly what I mean.”
The coil in Gadriel’s stomach tightens. It's joined, however, but a pang of anxiety. “Are you certain?” he asks. 
“Darling, what did I just say about deja vu-”
“No, no. It isn't like that. It's…”
Her expression turns serious again. “What?”
“Well… It’s…” Gadriel pauses to take a breath. Gather his words. “I'm not… the same as I was before.”
As sharp as always, Ellie understands his meaning right away. “Oh Gadriel…”
“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispers. “I don't want to– to frighten you.”
“You could never do either of those things,” Ellie says. She emphasises the point with a kiss. “Besides, you're not the only one,” she adds. “Eighty percent necron, remember? I'd say that makes us about even, don't you think?”
The quip makes him smile, but his anxiety is not so easily dissipated. “Ellie-”
He's cut off by warm skin touching his bare chest. Lifting up his shirt, Ellie slides her hand up and over his right pec. Her fingers trace his scars; both those sustained in battle and those left by the surgeries that'd turned him into what he is now. When she reaches the top of the muscle, she finds its neural port; one of dozens of black cybernetic nodes riveted into Gadriel’s body. Her thumb brushes over its surface. It sends stimulated shivers running through his entire being. “You could never hurt or frighten me, Gadriel,” Ellie says again. “Never.”
Then, ducking her head, she presses her lips to the same neural port from before. A soft, involuntary moan tumbles from Gadriel. He claws his fingers into the linen sheets beneath him. 
“Now,” Ellie whispers into his chest. “Flip me over. Take me. I'm yours, Gadriel. I've always been yours, and I always will be.” She kisses the port again. Again, shivers grip his entire body. “So, take me.”
That is all Gadriel needs to hear. 
*********************************************
Clasping his hands around her waist, Gadriel reverses their positions. Throwing Ellicent onto his bunk, he looms above her, framing her head with his enormous, thickly-built arms. A giggle escapes her lips. Throne, he’s enormous now. And strong. She can see it in his bulging forearms, the vice-like grip he has on the sheets beside her head. The strength to crush a skull in his fist, to turn bones to dust with a single punch. She’d always known that, of course; but it was one thing to see a space marine’s size and strength and another entirely to be pinned underneath it. But Ellicent isn’t afraid; she’s enthralled. And she knows underneath all of those scars, enhanced muscles and reinforced bone is her Gadriel. And as she had promised just moments before, he could never frighten her. He could never hurt her. 
Ellicent grabs a handful of his shirt, starts dragging it towards his head. Gadriel rears up to pull it off the rest of the way, then tosses it to the floor. Even years ago, when they’d been underhive street-rats, his body had always been impressive. But now, it’s like a work of sculpture; his chest and shoulders almost burst with the size of their muscles, and his abdomen is a terrain of shapely rises and valleys. Neural ports and surgery scars form symmetrical patterns all the way down his front, while battle scars- gashes, stab wounds and energy burns- are slashed more haphazardly. The pair of wounds from the Drukhari impaler have also scarred over, but instead of the dull pink or white of his other scars, these are still a bright, tender red.
Carefully, Ellicent runs her hand across his torso, then his chest, before finally cupping his cheek in her palm. Gadriel leans into her touch. Closing his eyes, covering her hand with his own. But it is only for a moment. Just like her, desire is tugging at him. And when he reopens his eyes, it burns as a hunger that’s almost animalistic. He grabs the shoulders of her jumpsuit, working her arm free from its sleeve before sliding it underneath her hips. Ellicent kicks it the rest of the way off, leaving her in just her panties and a thin white tank top. The latter, Gadriel practically tears off her. But when his eyes land on her naked torso, he pauses. Ellicent knows why. She’d been anticipating this moment. Dreading it. 
Carved into her skin, zig-zagging over her right hip, spilling across her breast and reaching up towards her shoulder, are lines of metal. Necronian metal. Pitch black and glowing green. They’re artifacts from her augmentations; each one marking a spot where the alien technology had been imperfectly woven into her flesh and grafted to her bones. Ellicent watches Gadriel’s expression anxiously. In her heart, she knows he won’t judge her. But even so, her fear remains. Finally tearing his eyes away from her shame, Gadriel meets her gaze. She smiles weakly. “I know. Horrifying, right?” 
Gadriel’s face softens. He touches her face, his hand so gentle despite its size. She waits for him to say something, but he does not. Instead, he lowers his head, cups her mutilated right breast and takes its nipple in his mouth. 
Ellicent lets out a gasp. Goosebumps ripple across her skin and her fingers claw into Gadriels’ scalp. Arousal throbs between her legs, made so much sweeter by the unspoken things he's telling her with his actions. That he doesn’t care what’s happened to her. He doesn’t care what she’s become. He loves her all the same. The same way he did when they were young. 
“Gadriel…” his name falls from her lips as a whimper. Her voice is weak with need. “Gadriel…”
With a final kiss, Gadriel releases her breast. His hands find the hem of her panties. He only manages to get them halfway down her thighs before his own desire overwhelms him and he buries his head between her legs. 
Ellicent’s whimpers turn to cries. Her hand forms a fist in his hair, dragging him closer, pressing him harder. Throne, how she has dreamed of this. How she has prayed to have him back, to have him take her like this all over again. In the decades since their separation, Ellicent had shared her bed with other men; but it was only to turn out the lights, close her eyes and pretend it was Gadriel. But now, she never has to pretend again. Because he’s here. He’s right here. And Emperor knows she is never letting him go again. 
She can feel her sex growing slick. Like a fire on the horizon, she can see orgasm approaching fast. But Ellicent doesn’t want it. Not yet. Not until he’s there with her. 
“Gadriel,” she says, sharper this time, so he knows it is not merely a whimper. 
“My love,” he murmurs into the skin of her left inner thigh. The feel of his breath makes her body shiver. 
“I’m- I’m ready for you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Ellicent breathes.
Gadriel looks uncertain, but he obliges. Rearing up once more, he unties his breeches, pulling them down to the knees. His cock springs free. Purple, aching and larger than even she had been anticipating. He sees the surprise on her face, and his already flushed cheeks turn a shade redder. “Ellie, I’m-”
Ellicent sits up, silencing him with a kiss. “Not a word,” she says through a smile. “It’s perfect.”
He pauses for a moment. “If I’m hurting you,” he eventually says. “You’re to tell me, alright?"
Ellicent strokes his cheek. “I promise.”
That seems to be enough to set him at ease. Laying her back down, he adjusts himself so his hips are aligned with hers. Then, sliding an arm under her waist to support her, he enters her as slow and gentle as he can. 
Sounds of stimulation tumble from both of them; Gadriel’s low rumbling moans, Ellicent’s sharp, high-pitched gasps. Ellicent grips the massive muscles of his shoulder blades, as her body stretches and throbs around his enormous length. She can feel his back moving with his breath, which is quickly growing shallow and rapid. But he doesn’t move. Not yet. 
“Are you okay?” he rasps into her ear. 
Ellicent gives herself a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, Throne,” she whispers. “This feels like my first time again.”
“Is… is that a good thing?”
Ellicent gazes up at him through half-lidded eyes. Her lips part in a gentle smile. “What do you think?” 
Gadriel returns her smile. Still holding her around the small of her back, his other arm cradles the back of her head. Then, finally, he begins to move. 
Immediately, stars burst in Ellicent’s vision. Her hips buck against his, grinding against his pelvis. Gadriel grunts with every long, deep thrust, the sound loud, primal and utterly lusting. Ellicent throws her head back. Her exhales devolve into breathy, whimpering pants. The tension in her belly winds tighter, tighter. Kicking her panties all the way off, she locks her legs around Gadriel’s waist. Pulling him closer. Thrusting him deeper. Winding the coil tighter, tighter. 
“Ellie…” he moans into her ear. “Ellie, I-”
“I know, darling,” Ellicent gasps. Throne, she can barely even form words. 
“I… I-”
A tremendous growl cuts him off. He buries his face into the crook of her neck and his thrusts suddenly double in pace. Ellicent cries out in ecstasy. Her legs fall from his waist as they tremble uncontrollably. The tension between her legs finally snaps and orgasm seizes her every nerve. Gadriel isn’t far behind. As her body squeezes him, his growl becomes a roar, and with one final, penetrating thrust he spills his seed within her. Ellicent breathes hard through her mouth. Slickness, both Gadriel’s and her own, trickles down the inside of her thigh. Her fingers find Gadriel’s hair. Gadriel lifts his head before pressing his forehead to hers. His eyes slip closed, followed by Ellicent’s. For several moments, they remain like this. Bodies interlaced, hearts pounding in a shared, slowing rhythm. Coming back to one another from their shared high. Ellicent is the first to break the silence. “What were you about to say just now?” she whispers. “Before… you know…”
Gadriel’s voice is low and gravelly from his laboured breath. “I was about to say I love you.”
Ellicent opens her eyes. Wrapping her arm around his neck, she kisses him fiercely on the lips. “I love you too,” she murmurs. “More than anything in the world.” 
Eventually, Gadriel rolls onto his side, taking her with him. Ellicent curls up against his body, resting her cheek against his chest. She can hear his heart beat; slower and louder than the last time she’d listened to it like this, but no less familiar. She smiles lightly to herself. 
“I had something else I wanted to ask you." 
“Anything,” Gadriel replies. 
“All the humans aboard this ship- from serfs to the mechanicus staff- they all call you “My Lord.”"
“That’s right. What of it?”
“Well,” Ellicent says. “If I’m going to be the assistant to the Magos-”
“Oh, Throne-dammit,” Gadriel mutters. 
“Does that mean I have to call you that, too?” 
Gadriel scowls. “I swear on the life of the Primarch-”
“What’s the matter, my lord? Is thy Lord Astartes ailed by something?”
“Keep that up,” Gadriel grumbles. “And so help me, I will hand you over to the Inquisition right now.”
Ellicent laughs. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He pretends to think about it for a moment. Then, draping his arm around her shoulders, he plants a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re right,” he says finally. “I wouldn’t. Not even with a bolter to my head.” 
Ellicent waits for the punchline, but it never comes. Instead, he says it with complete earnestness. It makes her smile. “You’re the absolute sweetest thing, you know that?”
Gadriel kisses her crown again. “Just to you,” he whispers. 
Ellicent’s smile broadens. Soon, it is joined by the sweet sting of joyful tears. It's really him, she thinks; things she already knows, but still finds so unbelievable. He never abandoned me. And after all this time after being taken away, he found his way back to me. 
**********************************************
We did it! Hooray! We made it to the end- and it was a happy ending!!!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has read, liked, commented on and/or reblogged any part of this fic series. It took a long of time and energy to make, so seeing all your feedback and responses just motivated and inspired me to no end.
This isn't the last of Ellie and Gadriel, either. I plan to do some more, cool things with their characters and their stories, so stay tuned for that!
Thank you again, I hope you enjoyed, and stay safe out there xoxo
Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @passionofthesith @finchly-tintinnabulation @justfreakynothingelse
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alittlegiraffe · 17 hours ago
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Title: Stand By Me (Part 2)
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The silence in the car was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was the kind of silence that settled deep, like the weight of something you’d been carrying for too long finally starting to lift. You weren’t sure how to process it yet, but the difference was undeniable.
Marshall kept one hand on the wheel, the other still holding yours, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your skin. He wasn’t in a rush to make you talk. He never was. He just let you be, let you sit with whatever you were feeling without demanding anything in return.
And maybe that was why, when you finally found your voice, it came out so raw.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
His grip on your hand tightened. “Do what, baby?”
You swallowed, staring out the window. “Keep trying. Keep pretending like she’s gonna change.”
He let out a slow breath, like he’d been waiting for you to say it, but didn’t want to push you to. “You don’t have to.”
Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You didn’t know why this felt like grief, why it made your chest ache even though you knew it was the right thing.
“But she’s my mom,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. “And she—”
“She don’t act like it,” Marshall cut in gently. “She don’t treat you the way a mom should.”
You exhaled shakily, your voice barely audible. “Then why do I feel so guilty?”
He sighed, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. “’Cause she raised you to.”
Your breath hitched.
That was it. That was the truth you had been running from, the truth you had spent years trying to shove down.
She raised you to believe that loving her meant sacrificing yourself. That putting up with her cruelty was just the price of being her daughter.
Marshall saw the realization settle in your face, and his heart clenched. He wanted to take it from you, wanted to undo the years of hurt, but all he could do was what he had always done—be there.
“I don’t know how to stop,” you admitted, voice small. “I don’t know how to let it go.”
He pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, then turned to you fully, giving you his complete attention. “You ain’t gotta figure it out all at once. You just take it one step at a time.”
Your eyes met his, uncertain but searching. “What if she never changes? What if she never stops?”
His jaw ticked, and you knew the thought made him angry—angry for you, angry that someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally had done nothing but tear you down.
But when he spoke, his voice was steady. Sure.
“Then we stop lettin’ her hurt you.”
You blinked. “We?”
He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. We. You ain’t in this alone, baby.”
And just like that, the weight on your chest lightened, if only a little.
Because for the first time in your life, it didn’t feel like you had to hold it all on your own.
---
You didn’t cut your mother off overnight.
It wasn’t that easy. The guilt still crept in, still whispered in the back of your mind every time you ignored her calls or chose not to respond to her passive-aggressive texts.
But every time you started to doubt yourself, every time you hesitated—Marshall was there.
Sometimes, he just held your hand. Sometimes, he gently reminded you why you were doing this. And sometimes, when you were feeling particularly weak, he’d just wrap his arms around you and say, “You deserve better.”
And slowly, you started to believe him.
The real turning point came a few weeks later.
Your mother had called—again. You had ignored it—again. And instead of spiraling into guilt, you just leaned back against the couch, curled up against Marshall’s side, and let out a breath.
“That felt… good,” you admitted.
He smirked, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
Then, quieter—“Thank you for standing up for me.”
His arm tightened around you, his voice low but firm. “Always.”
And you knew, with absolute certainty, that he meant it.
That no matter what happened, no matter how hard it got—
You wouldn’t have to face it alone.
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koka-mi · 4 months ago
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Oh my gosh whyyyy am I so obsessed with numbers I don't like it at all this is driving me INSANEEEE😭😭IT'S GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS THE DAYS GO BY AAAA
#IT'S SO WEIRD I HATE IT I HATE IT SO FCKING MUCH#I've had this weird relationship with numbers for years but it's gotten so much worse#I'm so obsessed with even numbers and odd numbers likeeee#I have even days and odd days?? that's what I call them anyways#where on even days everything has to involve even numbers and on odd days everything has to involve odd numbers#like those are my safe numbers for those days#and if I use the wrong number on the wrong day something bad will happen so I have to.I guess?? neutralize it?? somehow..#usually I figure out how in the moment but other times I just panic#likee for example today's an (I'm assuming) even day right now. so I have to have my tv volume on an even number#I have to eat an even number of food today#I CANNOT rb something on tumblr if I'm not on an even numbered reblog or I'm not an even numbered note... that makes no sense lemme explain#so I always have to like posts I reblog it's a rule I have for some reason. so in order for me to reblog a post#I have to land on an even number when I rb it#so for example if a post has 172 notes I'll like it which'll give it 173 notes then I'll rb which'll give it 174 notes#but if the post already has 173 notes before I liked it then I'll just like and not rb bcz if I rb it'll be 175 notes#which lands on an odd number and ahasbdhfbdsfaedw#it's the same for odd days just vice versa (it'd have to be on 177 though bcz 5 is an unsafe number for me rn)#YEAH 100% unsafe numbers for me are 3 5 6 and 9 and any number involving those numbers (so 26 and 13 are still unsafe)#basically no matter if it's an even day or an odd day I cannot land on anything with those numbers#and if I don't follow these rules my brain made up then something awful will happen or my day will go bad#or something I wanna do won't go well#thess numbers apply to EVERYTHING. and and it's SO ANNOYINGGGG. I've been trying to ignore it but it's getting harder and harder HELPPSADNF#I tried to tell my mom abt it but she just says “oh your grandma's also like that. you probably got it from her”#THANKS GRANDMA FOR THE NUMBER OBSESSION :'D#vent
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harvestmoth · 8 months ago
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what do we think about pet store workers team xen
#for the pet thing i had a bit ago#neved doesnt work with them hes just a delivery driver for some of their supplies. he mostly helps out with his wifes orphanage#idk if clear kieran and eden are around too or not though im not thinking that hard about it#jenner used to work there too but he quit and works for something at home#hes like a stay at home dad now or something#cassandra is either part of corporate or shes just the evil mayor of gdc still and has no affiliation to them idk#she still has something going on with madelis no matter what though#eli and sharon work part time and ren is like the guy who gets them coffee or something. runs delivery too maybe#regina comes in sometimes too to flirt with nastasia when she can but thats like a side thing and completely unrelated#btw zepto is like a clay figure zetta made and is either alive or just a figure. you decide#sorry i was trying to think of something rejuv related to draw and ended up thinking a little too hard about the pet thing. my bad#pokemon rejuvenation#if you have no idea what im talking about with the pet thing its just rejuv but they have weird looking pets instead of pokemon#and i guess technically a modern au. whatever. melia still has the power of god and anime in her. dont worry about it#zetta isnt a clone though hes just a guy. idk where he comes from but hes jenners son and melias older brother#im not drawing madame x im sorry. but know she really does show up to her store wearing all that and never takes it off. + the uniform#oh and nastasia still just straight up has deoxys. dw about it
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mccleans · 3 months ago
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i've gone to sleep angry and woken up angry every day since last saturday
#the flatmate who moved out was made CRYSTAL clear of her contractual duties to keep paying rent until she's been replaced on the lease#just like the other flatmate who moved out (and flatmate B is a student who works part time and has a deadbeat dad she can't move home to)#flatmate A works full time and will be living at home rent free and only moved out to go on a free holiday to mexico with her sisters#but it's flatmate A who's throwing a tantrum saying she wants her bond back and wants to stop paying rent now#even though no one's moved in to replace her on the lease WHICH WAS THE STIPULATION OF HER BREAKING IT EARLY#she KNEW this and she avoided all attempts at conversation about it before she moved out#but now that we're not face to face she's so brave over text with her lawyer sisters in her ear trying to tell us we're fucking her over#and trying to get us to pay HER RENT on top of our own#it's a fixed term lease you can only break it if you abide by the conditions the landlord sets#and the conditions were that she find someone to replace her on the lease#she's claiming that bc flatmate c (who's staying in the flat) moved into her room out of his couples room (bc him and flatmate b broke up)#that that somehow counts as her being replaced on the lease#no matter how many times we tell her that's not the case because how the fuck could he replace her when he's already on the lease#she refuses to listen. IT'S A ONE IN OUT SYSTEM BABE AND YOU'RE STILL IN#it's just soooooo shitty and sneaky like we've been friends for three years and now she's throwing it all away for WHAT#i hate people pleasers i hate people who hide their selfishness and sneakiness behind smiley faces and kisses#how is it in ANY way fair that the rest of us pay her rent so she can go on holidays. yeah i'd fucking like that too girl#it's stressing me out so bad because she's trying so hard to get between us all and tell one person that the other person said something#and then you ask the other person and they say no i absolutely did not say that#and we have proof evidence and facts on her side but she refuses to believe them#anyways. we've referred this all on to our landlord now so now it's her problem and out of our hands#ugh. it just sucks because we were really close friends and now what are we
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