#wait a seco

[anon-unofficial]

@blackkatdraws why did you have to make him so tall got damn /pos

"OHhhhhh hiii Black." (Are... are they okay?)

here's my narrator (fiend) meeting @blackkatdraws's narrator (black)! specifically drawn because i found out that black was 5 inches taller than fiend (who's already 6'4) and i had to make a shitpost about how fiend is intimidated by people taller than him. i didn't need to put so much effort into the art but i did anyways

i hope i did black justice because drawing him was such an emotional rollercoaster /j

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

Sib going "wait, the gaze can do crit??" made me realise I haven't looked at the build on my beloved Laser Bean in a hot minute and uhh. now I have Plans

Plans which involve two forma and a whole lot of arbies bc I don't have either of these galv mods currently

I mean, it's not like it technically Needs this, it already tears through SP with or without my rank 1 Cascadia Overcharge being in effect, but also. I love this gun. I refuse to pit it against the Nukor anymore bc the damn microwave gun has also grown on me thanks to Circuit, but this thing was the first secondary I ever truly loved and goddamn does it continue to hold up. I wanna feed it snack of Upgrade

[buyinggf]

castles are such a great concept like. ha ha ur not getting in with ur horrible little men

[fabled-fiction]

Hiiii!! Can I request a hobie brown x fem reader where the hobie swings by the readers room and just cuddles with her because he’s tired from patrol and the reader loves it because he only has a soft spot for her! And it’s just very fluffy!

Open Window (Hobie Brown x Reader)

Summary: Hobie didn't realize how strung out he was until a certain someone crosses his mind.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS

A/N: I tried writing in a fem reader and then realized as I was writing I neglected that. I tried going back it but it felt forced, I hope this still suffices!

It felt like he never slept.

When could he afford too? It seemed like every step forward he took in taking down Osborn and his regime, they took three. Every running start he had they moved the finish line.

It was exhausting to be honest.

And now on top of his own problems on his earth, this stupid watch wouldn’t stop beeping with anomalies that needed taking down and tethering back to their Earths.

Hobie could feel the bags forming under his already painted ones.

His head had been reeling recently. Jumping back to his Earth after coming from the Spider Society was never easy no matter how much radioactivity was coursing through his hardened veins. He had a theory that despite having the wristband that helped him jump back and forth, he needed one for his head. The shift in perspective, and what could be perceived as art styles of the different Earths were making his vision hazy. 

Perching himself onto the top of a billboard, Hobie hit the side of his head with the edge of palm. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough or in the right spot he could knock the buzzing in his brain out long enough for him to make sense of where he was. 

On occasion it almost felt like he was back in that stupid spider tower, or another unfamiliar Earth.

Shaking his head, he took a glance about the neon lit streets of his Earth.

Wait, he recognized this street…no wait. No yea he recognized where this street lead to. 

Pulling the edge of his suit wristband back, he pulled up the time on his watch.

4:32:02am

Hobie knew exactly what he needed to rejuvenate, to put the rock back in his roll. 

Standing from his perch, he felt his bones begin to ache as they realized where they were about to be. Pulling his mask back over his head, he was about to flip when his watch started to buzz.

The holographic face of Gwen popped up.

“Hey! Hobie, Im glad I caught you. You got a seco-”

“Sorry Gwendy, can’t talk right now.”

“Wait! I n-”

He couldn't swing fast enough.

There was a warm purple light coming from your window, leaking through your curtains like a holy light.

He’d have to lecture you about leaving your window unlocked for anyone to crawl into later, it didn't matter that you were on the 14th story of your building. But as of right now, as he peeled your window open he saw it as a blessing as he tumbled head first into your room.

Hobie hadn’t realized how long it had been since he had seen you.His spider work had always been number one, taking down the rising regime of fascism in his city. Even the Spider society jobs have seen more of him than his own bed. It almost felt like he was more Spiderman than Hobie Brown, his heroism taking priority over everything else.

Well, almost everything else.

But now as he stumbled about, throwing his sneakers and guitar in the corner of your room the only thing on his mind was you. More specifically crawling into your bed that seemed to always be WAY more comfortable than his.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed you.

Hobie was so preoccupied with getting out of his Spidersuit that was growing increasingly more annoying by the second, he hadn’t even realized you were now leaning against your doorframe.

Sometimes you thought he played up these so called spider senses. There was no way he let you sneak up on him as many times as you have.

“Where..I know you ‘ave it somewhere in ‘ere.” He mumbled to himself, digging through your drawers with little regard to your neatly folded clothes there were already in there. 

Placing your cup of water on your nightstand, you perched on the edge of your bed and watched as your once clean-ish room transformed to match the thought process of the sleep deprived Spider in front of you.

You knew what he was looking for, Hobie had a tendency to leave shirts in your room whenever he stayed over. He said it was for convenience, it made it easier to switch from Spiderman to Hobie Brown. You couldn’t count the amount of times on your fingers when you had done laundry and realized nothing in the basket was yours. He almost had a full drawer in your dresser.

“Try the very bottom drawer.” You yawn, a few joints popping as you stretched out whatever you could stretch out.

Hobie turned his head to look at you for only a moment, and you hadnt even realized that he had discarded his mask somewhere into the clothed chaos that was hurricane Hobie.

Falling back onto your bed, you let out another big yawn as you made yourself situated. You could hear Hobie shuffling about your room, making himself more than at home as he slammed the window shut. A very loud click of your window lock followed by a thunk of a thwip made you chuckle.

“You seriously need to considah lockin’ your window. Could’a been an unsightly fella.” He muttered as he reached to fully close your curtains.

“Well I know who to call if I see one of these so called unsightly fellas.”

There was a grumble that came closer to your bed, and what you swore you was the gulping down of YOUR glass of water followed by the creak of your mattress.

It was like a second nature to the both of you even though you hadn’t physically seen eachother in what felt like months (in reality it was only a week but you too were too clingy to admit to each other it had felt longer). Molding into one another was easy for you too.

Hobie’s arm easily found its way over your waist, pulling you as close to him as he physically could. The minute he had his head resting on your chest he swore he could feel the color coming back to him. Feeling your hand run over his wicks, and eventually come to rest on the nape of his neck made him break into a hazy smile.

But then his stupid watch started buzzing. Didn’t he take it off?

He tried ignoring it for a moment, hoping whoever was calling him would get the message.

When you had started to pull away was when he had enough. 

Ripping the watch off his wrist, he threw it across the room and webbed it to a random wall. Before you could even protest that he had yet again left webbing that would take months to come off, he wrapped his arms around you and flipped around so that you were laying ontop of him. His arms basically locked around you, and solidified that you two would not be moving for the rest of the night.

He needed this, and he could tell based off the way that you melted into him that you needed this as well.

“Hobie shouldn’t you have answered that?”

He could deal with the consequences later, right now he was exactly where he needed to be.

“Nah.”

[tsukk1]

@unreemarkable

[neat-crows]

So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

[amphitriteswife]

If you’re on your period

@yue-yolk

‘Okay what’s up with you? You’re not laughing at my jokes.’ jaegyeon na asked you with a hint on irritation in his voice. His hands gripping the steering wheel of his car even tighter. He disliked it when you didn’t respond to him with the most utter care in the world. It reminded him of how the other kings treat him. Perhaps your behavior is because he was talking about Initial N? ‘I’m just super exhausted that’s all.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I’m tired.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because i just got out of work?’ ‘Oh….why?’ ‘Goddamit just leave me alone.’ ‘Well sorry for asking.’ He replied in a passive aggressive manner. The silence that followed obly gave away the irritation the both of you felt for each other. Why couldn’t he just take a hint? Is he really that oblivious? And it’s not like he’ll say sorry, he’s too prideful when it comes to apologizig. ‘I’m on my period. Sorry for lashing out.’ ‘Oohh…’ jaegyeon replied, the realization hit him so suddenly when you said that before it turned into guilt. He was being super pushy and the thought of you being uncomfortable because of the pain you were in didn’t even cross his mind. How could he call himself your boyfriend while he didn’t even know this? He felt so embarrassed and ashamed to not have recognized this sooner. ‘Im so sorry…do you want a hug?’ He asked you in slightly softer tone than usual, he knew the hug wouldn’t help a lot but he still wanted to at least give you a sense of comfort. ‘I think i would like that, but this time please at home. I dont want to get into an accident because of your reckless driving’ ‘like i’d ever let Initial N suffer like that. You think I’m crazy?’

‘Babe i’m on my period.’ ‘Okay.’ The silence after the not so lasting conversation made you a little irritated. Jonggun was outside on the balcony smoking a cigarette, the smell filling your nostrils made you a little more disgusted than usual which caught Jonggun’s attention. ‘What’s wrong?’ He asked rather matter of factly than concerning, his hand pushing the cigarette onto the ashtray to put it out. ‘I know you dislike it when i smoke, but you’re usually at least tolerant..’ the sound of the cigarette being put out filled your ears. Jonggun on the other hand looked at you, the gears in his head turning. ‘Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?’ Jonggun asked you rather bluntly with slightly wider eyes. ‘I just told you i’m on my period you idiot.’ ‘Oh right…i wasn’t listening.’ ‘I figured.’ Jonggun let go of the cigarette which was now laying in the ashtray and took a seat on the sofa on the balcony, the warm wind blowing into his face. He invited you to join him which you declined. Your rejection of his offer made him a little confused. He didn’t say anything but from his eyes you knew he was waiting for an explanation. ‘I need you to go to the store and buy me tampons. And chips. And chocolate, but not the Milka one. The other one. The one i always eat.’ Jonggun did in fact not know what brand you always eat. But he’ll figure it out….he hopes. ‘Why don’t you go?’ ‘Because i don’t want to.’ ‘…’ ‘please.’ Your please sounded more demanding than a question to him, but given the circumstances and because you’re his girlfriend he decided to give into your demands. ‘..fine.’

‘Well hello sugar, coming to see me while i’m at work?’ ‘No i’m hurt.’ ‘What happend? You fell? I mean i probably blinded you with my glorious presence ahaha.’ ‘I’m on my period babe’ the information made Goo stiffen a little, he never really knew how to engage in something like this since you’re his first girlfriend and not a one night stand. His mind couldn’t comprehend the situation, before all this you were usually on the pill for birth control, so how could this happen? ‘How? I thought your period went extinct after you took the pill?’ The question made you burst out laughing, this grown ass man couldn’t even know one thing about how periods work? ‘First of all, it doesn’t go ‘extinct’ its not some species. Second of all, when you go off the birth control you start having a rather more complicated flow.’ ‘So now you’re bleeding?’ ‘Yea.’ ‘And you’re not going to die of losing blood?’ ‘I hope not.’ ‘Okay…’ Good scratches his head, he felt a little stupid for not knowing this. Perhaps it’s because he never bothered to actually learn about the female anatomy. His head was hurting with so much information and he wanted to actually ask some questions. ‘Y/n…’ ‘yeah?’ ‘Does this mean we can’t do it anymore?’ ‘Unless you want to have your shrimp painted red then no.’ ‘Forbidden salsa’ ‘please don’t say things like that again.’ Goo found himself thinking about a lot of things now that he knew this. Did Jonggun know this? Maybe he’s now smarter than Jonggun. Perhaps he can use this against him in battle. ‘So, since you’re now on your period. Does this mean that you say ‘period.’ After every sentence?’ ‘…’

[thef1diary]

Prompt 1 in Fluff 1 plz 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

In His Arms | D. Ricciardo

Prompt: Those nights when they come home late and see you asleep on the couch and they come, pick you up and tuck you into bed with a kiss on your forehead

wc: 800+

masterlist 3k celebration

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The house is quiet, the only sound being the ticking of the clock on the wall. You've been waiting for Daniel to come home, the anticipation making the hours seem longer. He had plans with his friends today, and though you knew he'd be out late since he hadn't seen them in a while, you couldn't help but wait up for him. You missed him, his presence, the way he made the house feel complete, like a home.

You glanced at your phone, reading his latest text: ‘I'll be home soon. Love you.’

It's those words that keep you awake, knowing he's on his way back to you. To pass the time, you decide to read a book, something to keep your mind occupied as you wait. You curl up on the couch, the familiar comfort of the cushions enveloping you as you lose yourself in the story.

The book you're reading is one of your favorites, a comforting story you've read many times before. It's like a warm blanket on a cold night, wrapping you in a sense of familiarity and safety. The lamp beside you casts a soft glow, creating a cozy cocoon of light in the dim room. Outside, the night is silent, most people already sound asleep.

But as the minutes tick by, your eyelids grow heavier. You fight the sleep, wanting to be awake when he walks through the door, but the warmth of the lamp and the rhythmic turning of pages lull you into a peaceful slumber. The book slips from your grasp, landing gently on your chest, still open to the page you were reading.

Daniel comes home late, quietly slipping through the door. The house is dark and still, the only light coming from the lamp in the living room.

"Baby, I'm home," he calls out, his voice filled with warmth and fatigue. Hearing no response from you, he furrows his eyebrows and walks further into the house, his footsteps soft on the carpet.

He enters the living room and the sight of you asleep on the couch brings a tender smile to his face. He knew you'd waited up for him, the soft rise and fall of your chest while the book rested on it told him that you'd tried to stay awake. The room felt warm and inviting, the glow of the lamp casting a halo around you.

Daniel approached you gently, careful not to wake you. With a soft touch, he picks up the novel and places a bookmark between the pages before closing it. Next, he takes off your glasses that were almost sliding off the bridge of your nose in your slumber, and sets them down on the coffee table beside your book.

He pauses for a moment, just looking at you, his heart swelling with love. He can see the faint traces of a smile on your lips—even in sleep—the very smile he fell in love with when he first saw you.

Slowly, he slips his arms under you, one beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. You stir slightly as he lifts you, murmuring softly, but don't wake, the familiar scent of his cologne lulling you back into dreamland. Daniel carries you towards the bedroom with ease, each step he takes is filled with care, ensuring not to jostle you awake.

The bedroom is cool and dark, the curtains drawn to keep out the morning light when the sun rises in a couple hours. As he reaches the bed, he gently lays you down, pulling the covers over you. He tucks you in with such tenderness, making sure you're comfortable. Finally, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The touch of his lips is warm, a promise of his love and care.

He stands there for a moment longer, watching as you settle into the bed, still asleep. Then, with a contented sigh, he quietly moves around the room, preparing for bed himself. He slips off his shirt, tossing it aside without a second glance at it since his gaze remained on you, wanting to quickly finish his routine so he could join you.

Before long, he settles under the covers beside you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. Even in your sleep, you instinctively snuggle into him, finding comfort in his embrace. He holds you close, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing against your hair.

In the quiet of the night, with only the sound of your even breathing and the faint rustle of sheets, Daniel presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, unable to hold himself back from doing so. Soon, he joins you by drifting off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that in each other's arms, you have found your home.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl

[itsnobodysproblem]

*puts on clown shoes*

Yeah it's one of the stories I haven't read yet (3gab)

[Too soon, ik, but I either post this now or not at all.]

Ok so I couldn't actually post about this until Sign10 came out for everyone but I've been wondering for A While what the next adventure would be, cause it absolutely has to have a happy ending (see, everyone kinda knew that something will go wrong in Sign but yea this is why I had to wait, sad ending confirmation...).

And also it's gonna come out at Christmas so. Gotta be a happy/chill story

And I've been thinking it could be one of the important stolen documents cases. The Naval Treaty or The Second Stain to be more precise. Don't know if I would describe them as chill, given the *if these leak there will be major international unrest or even war* of it all, but. Happy endings!

And I couldn't really decide between them because (spoilers ig)

Nava has 1. No murder (as far as i remember ??) and 2. Happy ending

And Seco has a murder at one point, which is not very Christmasy. But on the other hand the ending of Seco is. Unusually... Joyous? I just read it these days, I think joyous is the right word.

Like I thought Nava would be more likely but was rooting for Seco. So that kinda evened them out. But still I only had these two stories as viable suspects. But I haven't read all the canon.

So i WAS planning to ask u guys hey, what are some chill happy ending stories that come to mind?

Which, question still stands BUT!!!!!

Yk on patreon they give us art prompts that hint at the next story? Well the latest just dropped and let's just say it mentions a safe/lockbox AND floorboards

!!!!

Was I right was I right was I right did I actually guess based on vibes? Cause that sounds to me like The Second Stain

Plsss I wanna be right soo badddd my only hints were vibes ahahahha pllsssss let me be right

[sugrhigh]

FAMILY TIES - ( m.s & c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you, matt, and chris go to a bruins game with the kids

warnings- none i don’t think!

girl dad!matt and boy dad!chris

a/n: i tried so hard to write this well and im still not sure if im satisfied, but i hope u enjoy!! kinda short but i think after this weeks podcast we all need a bit of fluff lol

@cutenote @rootbeerworshiper @bb-1s-blog @rileysturniolo @mbbsgf @sturnlova @angelworldspost @l9vesick @st7rnioiossblog

“it’s ridiculous that you always wear my clothes better than i do.” matt speaks, interrupting you as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror.

you’re in one of his many bruins sweatshirts, which is a little too big for you so you have one side tucked into the pocket of your jeans.

you pad over to give him a quick kiss, hand pressed to his chest. “you still look very handsome.”

“thank you, babe.” he gives you a tiny pat on the ass, which still to this day makes your cheeks ignite.

your daughter, eve, comes flying around the corner into your bedroom moments later, almost running right into her dad. she’s all dressed up for the occasion too, clad in her mini bruins jersey.

“woah, slow it down there partner.” he scoops her up into his arms easily, and her eruption of laughter makes you smile.

“can we go now?” eve says through giggles.

“you don’t want to wait for uncle chris and parker?” you ask knowingly, and she sighs, leaning her small head against matt’s chin.

“i guess.”

as if on que, there’s a loud pounding on the front door, and you hear it open. eve’s face lights up, and she claps her hands together in excitement.

“they’re here, they’re here!”

“we’re here evie!” chris calls back, and the smile is clear in his voice.

matt sets your daughter down so she can run for the stairs, the both of you following closely behind her.

parker is hiding behind chris’s legs, one hand grabbing onto his dad’s black cargos for safety. the second eve comes rushing toward him, though, he opens right up as always.

they hold each other tightly for a second as you finally reach the bottom of the grand staircase, which gives you time to pull chris into a quick embrace too.

“good to see you, as always.” you grin, and he matches your expression.

“i can never turn down some family time.”

matt chuckles a little, clapping his brother on the back as they hug next. “you just want an excuse for me to drive so you can get a drink.”

“well, i can’t turn that down either.” chris jokes back.

“alright, who’s ready for some hockey?” you ask, mainly to eve and parker, who both bounce around with each other happily.

“me!”

“me too!”

you herd everyone into the car and get the kids situated in their respective booster seats beside chris. there’s always an extra in your vehicle, just in case parker is around, which is often.

you love the little guy. he really is like a mini version of his dad, and chris’s wife is gorgeous too, which also shows in his face. you were so upset when you found out she was sick, but she insisted you guys needed to go enjoy without her, so here you are.

most of the drive to the garden is spent singing along to the radio and keeping eve and parker in check. as cute as they are together as cousins, they’re also trouble. to be fair, they’re only three, so it’s in their nature.

you used to think that eve got her rebel streak from her father, but matt insisted it’s a trait that came from you. as the time went on, you realized that she’s definitely inherited it from your side of the family.

thinking about it makes you grin a little bit to yourself. she’s definitely equal parts of you and matt.

eve’s voice interrupts your thoughts, almost like she knew what was going on in your brain.

“are we there mommy?”

“almost, i promise.”

“pinky?” parker chimes in next.

“oh, of course.” you fully lean across the center console so you can extend your pinky finger to him.

he loops his own little hand with yours and shakes it, and you do the same with eve.

it seems like only seconds later you’re pulling into the arena’s parking deck, and the kids start kicking in their seats eagerly.

chris unbuckles them and helps them out into the chilly air as you round the corner of the car. thankfully they’re both all bundled up in their outfits, even complete with their little matching bruins beanies that matt had picked out months ago.

the whole walk toward the entrance, chris and matt take turns swinging parker and eve between themselves, and you’re all still laughing as you approach security.

matt scans the tickets and suddenly you’re meshing with the crowd, keeping the kids close as you head for concessions first.

the rink is all lit up as you finally make your way to your seats minutes later, equipped with two beers, two sodas, and two tubs of popcorn.

the kids munch happily from their seats as they watch warm-ups, just a couple rows back from the glass. you can’t help but beam, sneakily taking pictures of the two of them together because it just warms your heart.

“looking at the two of them kind of makes me want more, you know.” matt leans over from the seat on the other side of you, breath tickling your ear.

you nudge him playfully, though it makes your pulse skyrocket as you turn to look at him.

“just say the word.”

it’s his turn to go slack-jawed, and he has to clear his throat to force himself to stop thinking about the possibility of more children with you, the woman he fucking adores.

you’d never really talked about it after eve, since you were both so hyper-focused on her as new parents. plus, she’s always had her cousin every step of the way.

but maybe she’d like having a little brother or sister of her own.

“maybe they can stay at chris’s place tonight?” matt thinks out loud.

“let him drink that beer a little longer and i’m sure you can convince him.” you grin as you take a sip of your own.

a few minutes later the arena gets dark as the announcer hypes up the crowd, and you’re (mostly) all on your feet cheering once the bruins skate onto the ice.

parker is piggy-backing on chris’s shoulders, arms flung around his neck as his dad supports him. you’ve got eve on your hip so she can get a good view as well, watching the players while the spotlights focus in on the rink.

her eyes are as wide as saucers, like she’s totally entranced by the noise and the movement.

“daddy, look!” eve points at them excitedly, leaning in your arms so she can glance over at matt.

“i know baby! isn’t it cool?” he feeds into her enthusiasm with a wide grin.

your heart soars as you transfer her into matt’s arms, watching as he ruffles her beanie a little bit so she shrieks with laughter. it’s precious, watching him treat her like the little princess she is.

the national anthem plays shortly after, and the game officially begins. you watch as he points out players to eve, telling her different fun facts about each of them.

chris is bopping parker around on his back to the beat of the music, and he smiles along with his dad.

for a moment, you’re completely consumed by your own thoughts, so thankful for this little found family of yours. you turn your head to look at matt, and he meets your eyes immediately.

“i love you.” you mouth, unable to contain your smile.

“i love you more.” he mouths back.

[joesheistyy]

Gorgeous

Based on the Taylor Swift song Gorgeous <33

-----

Your friendship with Joe had stood the test of time. However, after 8 years of friendship, your feelings flourished into more than just friends.

Every week, Joe comes over to your apartment for dinner. With being best friends for years, he had a key to your place and would just let himself in.

You were making spaghetti for dinner, something simple but delicious. As you cooked, you played Taylor's Reputation album over your speaker.

As the song Gorgeous came on, you heard Joe letting himself in. You were dancing and singing with your slotted spoon, entertaining yourself as you waited for the noodles to be done.

You decided to stay in your own little world, expecting Joe had a bag he could set down while you continued in the kitchen. As he walked over to give you a side hug, you were still singing.

You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much) Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine You've ruined my life by not bein' mine.

You sang to him, aiming your spoon toward his face. He just smiled, feeling slightly awkward in this situation.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face 'Cause look at your face (Gorgeous) And I'm so furious At you for makin' me feel this way But what can I say? You're gorgeous

You continued to sing, getting closer to him and trying to test the boundaries.

You should take it as a compliment That I'm talkin' to everyone here but you (But you, but you) And you should think about the consequence Of you touchin' my hand in a darkened room (Dark room, dark room)

You reached for his hand and grabbed it, bringing it closer to you.

If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her

You pointed to him with your other hand, slowly backing away from him, but not far enough that you dropped his hand. Almost like you were pulling him to dance.

But if you're single, that's honestly worse 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts (Honey, it hurts)

You jabbed him in the chest with your finger, feeling his strong chest.

Ocean blue eyes lookin' in mine I feel like I might sink and drown and die

As you set your slotted spoon down, you pointed to his eyes aggressively, then to your eyes. Then, you leaned backwards and pretended to sink and drown and die.

You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face (To your face) 'Cause look at your face (Look at your face; Gorgeous)

You pointed back to his face, reaching up to grab his cheeks.

And I'm so furious At you for makin' me feel this way (Feel this way) But what can I say? You're gorgeous

With your hands on his face, Joe took this opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, testing the waters with you.

You make me so happy it turns back to sad (Yeah)

You made faces at Joe as he continued to hold you around your waist. He smiled down at you, slightly laughing at you.

There's nothin' I hate more than what I can't have (And)

You pressed your hands to his chest, and pretended to be in pain.

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad (Mm) You're gorgeous

As the song wrapped up, you booped Joe's nose. But even when the song was done, Joe kept his arms around your waist, smiling down at you. This kind of interaction between the two of you wasn't uncommon, but this one felt different.

The song Getaway Car played next, but you and Joe were still in your own little world. He began to lean in, and you followed.

You felt his breath fan across your face, and the butterflies began in your stomach. As he finally closed the gap, your night felt complete. Who knew that singing and dancing in the kitchen is what would finally get Joe to kiss you.

The kiss was delicate and slow, but did not last very long. If you could kiss Joe for eternity, you would.

His arms remained around your waist as he pulled away, looking into your eyes for approval. He looked nervous, but you could not be happier. You wanted more. So, you went back for more.

Joe leaned into the kiss, deepening it. As you pulled away the second time, Joe seemed more content.

"You're gorgeous. I hope it was okay that I did that," He said sheepishly.

"It's about damn time," you smirked.

Spaghetti be damned.

-----

I've had this idea for months so I hope y'all enjoyed it!!

[airybcby]

hii <3 my top song was i miss u, im sorry by gracie abrams

NOW THIS IS A SONG I CAN WRITE ABT FOR HOURS

if your top song was i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams, i'd pair you with...

oliver aiku

જ⁀♡⊹｡° nothing happened in the way i wanted

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist - ** THIS EVENT IS NOW CLOSED **

♡ content — oliver aiku x gn! reader, gn! reader, established relationship, late night call, oliver misses reader BAD, mentions of alcohol

♡ synopsis — oliver aiku's been haunted by your ghost since you broke up with him, little does he know, you've also been plagued by memories of him

The apartment hasn’t changed much since you left.

It’s been months—maybe a year, he doesn’t really keep track anymore. The days blend together like the city lights outside his window, faint glimmers in the haze of a life lived too fast. But he can still feel you here, like you never really left.

Every corner of the place holds a piece of you. The couch still smells faintly like your shampoo. There’s a chip in the kitchen counter from that night you got too animated with a wine bottle, laughing so hard he almost forgot to stop you before you knocked it over. The bedroom—the one he hasn’t slept in since—is worse. It’s a mausoleum of all the things he lost, haunted by the warmth that used to fill it.

Oliver leans against the doorway, staring at the unmade bed. You hated when he left it a mess, and yet here it is, sheets tangled and pillows scattered like he’s still waiting for you to come back and fix it.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. How did he let it get this bad? How did he get this bad?

The answer comes like it always does: because he’s Oliver Aiku. The man who ruins good things. The man who knew how to charm you into his life but not how to keep you there.

He sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. The memories hit harder in the silence. The fights—god, the fights—play out like a movie reel he can’t turn off. Your voice, raised in frustration, asking him why he always had to pull away. Him, deflecting with a cocky grin or a dismissive comment, too scared to admit that you mattered more than he could handle.

“I miss fighting in your old apartment,” you’d said once, after one of those rare, quiet nights together. It was a joke, your way of saying you hated arguing but loved him too much to walk away. He didn’t realize then how close you were to the edge, how much it took for you to stay when he gave so little in return.

And now he misses it too. Misses you.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. For a second, his heart leaps—it’s a reflex, stupid and desperate—but of course it’s not you. It’s never you. He hasn’t heard your voice since the day you walked out, your face a mix of heartbreak and determination as you said, “I can’t keep waiting for you to grow up, Oliver.”

He still doesn’t know if he’s grown up.

The phone buzzes again. A text from a friend, probably asking him to hit the club. The thought makes him nauseous. He used to love the chaos, the noise, the way it drowned out everything real. Now it just feels hollow.

He picks up the phone, hesitates, and sets it back down.

You’re gone, but you’re still here—in the chipped counters, the unmade bed, the faint traces of your laugh that echo when he least expects it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever let you go, or if he even wants to.

Oliver stands, his silhouette framed by the city lights. The night is eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic below. He runs a hand through his hair, his chest heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved.

The phone buzzes again, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name.

It’s been months. Long enough that he’d convinced himself you hated him. Long enough that he’d tried to hate you, too—but failed miserably.

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. His thumb swipes across the screen, and he presses the phone to his ear, unsure if he even remembers how to breathe. “Hello?”

For a second, there’s only silence. Then, he hears your breath on the other end of the line, shaky and uneven. “Oliver.”

Just your voice—soft, hesitant, laced with something he can’t quite place—is enough to unravel him. His jaw tightens, his free hand balling into a fist at his side. “It’s late,” he says, his voice low and careful, because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything else.

“I know,” you whisper, and he can hear the faint hum of music in the background, the kind you used to play when the nights got too heavy. “I just... I don’t know why I called.”

He closes his eyes, leaning against the cold glass of the window. “Are you okay?”

You laugh, but it’s hollow, more like a sigh than anything else. “Do you really care?”

The question slices through him, sharp and cruel, even though he knows you don’t mean it that way. Of course he cares. He’s cared every single day since you left. But before he can find the words to say it, you’re speaking again, your voice cracking just slightly.

“I thought... I thought I’d hate you by now,” you admit, and he can picture you, curled up on your couch, staring at the phone like it’s something you wish you didn’t have to hold. “But I don’t. And that makes it worse.”

His breath hitches. He wants to say something, anything, but the words stick in his throat.

“I shouldn’t have called,” you say suddenly, a little sharper now, like you’re trying to pull yourself back together. “Just—forget it, okay?”

“No,” he says quickly, the word tumbling out before he can stop it. “Wait.”

The silence stretches, heavy and fragile, and he’s afraid you’ll hang up before he can figure out what to say. But then, softly, barely loud enough for him to hear, you whisper: “I miss you.”

His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” you add before he can respond, your voice trembling but resolute.

The line goes dead, and he’s left staring at the phone, your words echoing in his mind.

He sets it down gently, his hands shaking. For a long time, he just stands there, staring at the city lights that blur and smear through his tears. He doesn’t leave the apartment that night. Instead, he sits in the dark, letting the memories wash over him like a tide he’s too tired to fight.

And for the first time in his life, Oliver Aiku doesn’t try to run from the things he’s lost.

i would fold immediately for him, but yk i made reader stronger than i ever will be

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[thetriumphantpanda]

close to you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Nine

Chapter Summary | A week of not hearing from Javi since he ran out has you tearing your hair out, so you throw yourself into your work as a distraction, with catastrophic consequences.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of drugs and the drug trade, alcohol consumption, threatening language, violence, blood, descriptions of a head injury and concussion, Javier Peña to the rescue, soft!Javi.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | I am forever appreciative of how patient you guys are for updates of this series! Thank you for hanging in there whilst my muse and creativity ebbs and flows, I love you all! We're getting towards the conclusion of this little story, with only a few chapters left so I hope you guys are still enjoying this! If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You wonder when staring at the work in front of you might actually yield something worth writing about. It’s all you’ve done since you picked up this stupid story and decided to chase it. Staring at the pages on your desk has become all the more common in the week since Javi ran out on you. He’s avoided your calls to his phone, you’ve not seen him around town, and the one time you decided to call the house, Chucho answered and with the most sincere voice you’d ever heard, told you he wasn’t in but that he promised he’d ask him to call you when he got back. That had been two days ago, so you’d practically given up all hope of ever hearing from him again.

For the first couple of days, you’d cursed yourself, wondering why you’d kept any of that stuff in the first place. Newspaper clippings and annotated notes about everything he and his team had done in Colombia. You didn’t need it anymore, thesis done, completed, and with a better mark than you could ever have hoped for. But until you’d seen him in the flesh, knew he was back for good and safe in Texas, it was the only way to feel close to him. Stupid for sure. But then the anger had set in - he’d no right to rifle through your drawers, pick up your notebooks and thumb through them. The barrage of different emotions was hard to deal with, and at the very base level, you missed him, you wanted him back, and you wanted to explain everything to him - that’s incredibly hard when he won’t answer his fucking phone though.

Turning your attention back to your work, you try and focus. You’ve met dead end after dead end with this stupid story and there really is only one place left for you to go. If it’s not Tyler then it has to be someone else in the family that’s involved. You can’t imagine it’s head of the family, so that really only leaves Tyler’s brother. It might be stupid and you might make a terrible enemy out of the mayor’s family, but there’s something else going on here and whatever it is, you’re going to get to the bottom of it, no matter how.

You can still never get over the size of the Johnson family home. Richard and his wife had two sons, one their pride, the other, not so much, but if you looked at their house, you’d think they had at least twelve children. No family needed this many rooms, you think, as you walk up the driveway.

It’s the early afternoon and you can see Garrett’s car parked in front of the house. Tyler will be at work, as will Richard, and you’re pretty sure their mother is never at home. You don’t really know what it is she does, but it’s some form of charitable work that involves travelling more than it does time at home.

You take a deep breath and ring the bell, waiting the appropriate amount of time before ringing it again. It’s a huge house after all, it must take a while to get from anywhere to the front door. A few seconds later, the door opens, and Garrett is stood in front of you, dressed in dress pants and a shirt that has the arms rolled up to the elbows. He smiles at you and opens the door a bit wider, invites you in - it’s much warmed than the reception you got from his brother.

“Lovely to see you,” He smiles, guiding you through the foyer and into the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water would be great, thank you.” You smile back, waiting for him to put a glass in front of you, topped up with water and fresh ice.

“I assume you’re here from the paper?” He asks, leaning cooly against the kitchen counter.

“That’s right,” You nod, sipping at the water, “Has Tyler spoken to you recently?”

Garrett shakes his head, “No, I haven’t seen him in a few weeks actually.”

You hum, nodding your head, thankful that you have the upper hand of surprise still - that this part of the family don’t know you’re sniffing around looking for a reason that one of their houses was used as some form of drug den.

“How have you been since Dylan died?” You ask, “I know you were really good friends.”

It’s a question that makes sense, they were very good friends, and although it’s been a while, you’re hoping your feigned concern for his mental welfare might make him open up.

“It’s been hard,” He starts, “He was my best friend, and to suddenly not have him around anymore…” He trails off, “I miss him.”

You nod, hoping the look of concern you think you’ve got across your face is projecting enough to make him feel like he can trust you.

“Was he the reason your dad has started being heavier with drugs in town?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Garrett nods, “He saw how fucked up it made me to lose my friend and decided enough was enough, that someone needed to do something to fix the trouble we’ve been having in town for years.”

There’s another nod from you, “Makes sense,” You offer, “Not really working very well though, is it?”

“These things take time.” He offers, in that perfectly practiced politician way that they always answer things.

“Look, I’m gonna cut to the chase Garrett,” You sigh, “That house in town that got raided recently? We’ve been looking into it and it all leads back to you, to your family, and it doesn’t matter who I ask, no-one knows why that place was being used as a drug den, but someone in this family knows exactly why.”

Garrett scoffs, “You’ll want to talk to my brother about that.”

“Well, that’s the thing Garrett,” You speak, “I did, and that man is clean as a whistle, he hasn’t taken drugs in at least a year, and the last time he was at the house, it was clear of anything,” You shrug, “I can’t imagine your dad being involved in anything like this, so that just leaves you.”

You can see his demeanour change almost immediately, he’s uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot and you can see the start of perspiration on his forehead.

“You’re telling me you think I’m involved in something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

He pushes himself from the counter he’s been leaning against, takes a few steps towards you, trying to intimidate you, but you know you’re pushing in the right direction, he wouldn’t be reacting like this if you were barking up the wrong tree.

“Where’s your evidence?” He asks.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy the paper to find out?”

“Listen here you little bitch,” He spits, pointing his finger in your face, “You ought to be careful about this, you think this is just me?” He asks, stepping even closer to you, making your breath catch in your throat, “You think you publish this story and it’ll just be me you have to worry about? You’re dead wrong, publish whatever story you’re planning and you’ll have a rain of fucking fire to deal with from people you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.”

“So, it was you then?” You can help but smirk, having caught him redhanded in a confession, the recorder in your bag that you’d pressed on before he’d answered the door your little secret.

You watch some kind of fury flick over his eyes as he grits his teeth, his hands pressed into your shoulders to push you back, “Stupid little girl.” He says as he pushes, but it’s a lot harder than you’d anticipated and it makes you lose your balance, falling backward.

It all happens in a blur, the side of your head makes contact with the corner of the kitchen island, pain spreading almost immediately across your forehead, vision blurring as your backside hits the floor. You’re sort of aware of something warm and wet dripping down your cheek, which you brush away with the back of your hand as you try and quickly reorientate yourself. Then you feel a hand wrap around your arm and a presence next to you, not quite all there enough to push it away.

“Oh shit,” You hear Garrett speak next to you, “Shit, shit shit,” He’s touching your face now, “I'm sorry, I- oh god - I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

You groan, letting your head tip back against the cool marble of the kitchen island, “Am I-” You struggle to speak, “Am I bleeding?”

“Oh god-” Garrett mutters, “I’m going to be sick.”

And then he’s gone, the sound of his shoes clipping against the floor as he runs to God knows where, leaving you disorientated and bleeding on his kitchen floor. You know you need to get out of here, slowly moving yourself just enough to push yourself to your feet, hands gripping the counter as you reach for your bag. You’re dizzy as you walk towards the door, looking down at the floor because as soon as you look up, you feel like you’re going to throw up and pass out. You can see yourself leaving small drops of blood on the floor as you move - a trail that follows you all the way down the driveway and to your car. You fumble with your keys, dropping them on the floor. When you bend over to try and pick them up, your vision goes fuzzy before you can grab them from the ground. You know you can’t drive like this.

In the haze of confusion you look around, a little way down the street you spot a phone box. It’s slow going, but you make it, pulling open the door, leaning against the glass wall, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and ease the ache behind your eyes. You shuffle through your bag to find your wallet, pulling out a handful of coins that you push into the slot. You think about phoning your father, but realise there’s only one person you want right now. Despite having his number memorised, you pull the worn card from your wallet, mainly to make sure that the haze of confusion doesn’t make you dial the wrong number. You drag your thumb over the faded number, watching a smear of blood cover it, and then press the number into the dialling pad, listening to it start to ring.

“Please Javi,” You whisper, “Please answer.”

You’re about to lose hope, expecting the phone to ring out, but through some form of divine intervention, the ringing stops and you hear the voice you’ve craved all week.

“Peña?”

“Oh Javi,” You sigh out in relief, feeling the prick of tears behind your eyes, “Help me.”

“Cariño?”

“Javi please, I need you.”

“What’s happened?” You can hear his tone change, concern and something else you can’t quite place, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I just-” The ache behind your eyes is making you tired, “I need you to come and get me.”

“Has something happened?”

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m so tired Javi, I can’t drive.”

“Where are you?”

“The mayor’s house,” You reply, “Well- no - I'm in the phone box down the road.”

“You stay right there, okay?” He’s frantic on the other end of the phone, you can tell.

“Please hurry.”

He’s beside himself as he drives from the ranch and into town. A week of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings towards you, and you’re hurt. He still can’t think about what happened. He doesn’t even know why he’d answered the phone this time - he’d avoided answering anything that had come through on his phone since he’d run out on you before, but there’s something today that made him pick up, and by God is he pleased he did. He doesn’t think he could have lived with himself if he’d let you call and left you hurt and injured in the middle of nowhere.

He thinks of all the other women throughout his life that he's let down. Lorraine and the way he left her, Helena and the way she risked herself for him, for the promise of a fucking visa, and paid the price. Most women in his life ended up hurt, emotionally or physically, and it was becoming evident to him that you were no different.

Not knowing, and not caring about how many speed restrictions he breaks, he makes it to the phone box in record time, cutting the engine and slamming the door behind him. He takes four or five big steps to the phone box, tearing open the door to find you slumped on the floor, eyes fluttering open at the disturbance. He takes a deep breath, dropping to his knees in front of you.

“Cariño, it’s me,” He speaks softly, “Can you hear me?”

He takes your face in his hands, turns it towards the quickly fading light, finding the cut on your forehead. The blood has dried and scabbed over, but there’s a trail of crusting blood down your cheek and side of your neck. He thinks of Helena in this moment, about draping his jacket over her naked body, cradling her to his body, reluctantly handing her over to a paramedic, not knowing what would come of her.

“Javi?” Your voice is quiet, but your eyes are looking at him, glassed over, but at least you recognise him.

“That’s me,” He speaks softly, “Are you okay?”

“Tired,” You mumble, and then you shake your head in his hands, “Head hurts.”

“Shall we move you?” He asks, knowing he can’t leave you here, “Come here.”

Letting go of your face, he runs his palms down your arms to where your hands are clasped together. He gently pries open your fingers and takes hold of the card there, holding it up. It’s the card he’d given you with his number on, edges torn and worn. He can clearly see where you've run your fingers over the printed text, and where it's sat in your purse, pulled out and slotted bacon whenever you've needed him. He tries to take it, but your hand clasps over it again.

“Don’t,” You whisper, “It’s mine, don’t take it.”

“It’s okay, Cariño,” He replies, “I’ll keep it safe, just let me have it whilst we get you into the car.”

“My keys,” You mumble as he stands up, leaning down despite the protest of his knees and his back, “I dropped them.”

He’s scooping you up, not quite able to carry you, but able to lean you against his side to walk you to the passenger side of his truck.

“Where did you drop them?” He asks, settling you into the passenger seat, leaning across you to clip your seatbelt in.

“My car-” Your head lolls to the side, eyes hooded as you look at him, “On the ground.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, shutting the door gently. He finds your keys on the ground by your car, and then after checking that the doors are still locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and focuses his attention back to you.

The drive out of town is slower, Javi conscious that he doesn’t want to jostle you too much. Each corner he turns makes you groan. He had considered taking you to your own home, but he decides instead to take you back to the ranch. He pulls up, noticing the lights on in the living room. He knows he’s going to have questions from his father, but he doesn’t worry about that, instead he focuses on getting you out of the truck and into the house.

There’s a look from Chucho when he bursts through the front door, but Javi gives him a clipped shake of his head and instead walks you up the stairs and into his room. He sits you down on the side of the bed, kissing your forehead as he grabs some supplies from his bathroom - a warm, damp washcloth and his bag of first aid supplies, put together by Chucho when he’d come back to the ranch - his dad not convinced he wouldn’t injure himself with the manual labour.

“Hey, cariño?” He speaks softly, on his knees in front of you, “Look at me?”

You do, but your eyes are barely open. He works quickly, wiping away the crusted blood from your face first before he turns his attention to the actual cut. Once he’s cleaned it a little, he can see it’s not as deep as he’d anticipated. He brushes it with an antiseptic wipe, soothing you when it stings enough to make you gasp, and then covers it with a small plaster.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble as he eases you back on the bed, head down on his pillows.

“What for?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Scaring you off.”

“Oh hermosa,” He breathes, feeling guilt pool in his stomach, nut not ready to quite face the conversation of what really made him run that night, “I’m here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

He listens to you groan in approval, moving your body to get a little more comfortable.

“What happened today?” He asks quietly, trying to keep you awake so he knows who did this to you.

“Went to the house,” You speak, punctuated with a yawn, “Asked Garrett about the house.”

It’s almost like you get a second wind, trying to sit up, but he knows you need to stay still, so he gently pushes you back down.

“It’s him Javi,” You groan, “He’s the one dealing the drugs.”

“Shhhhh,” It’s the only thing he can think to do, “Just rest, cariño, we can talk later.”

Javi sits there for longer than he needs. You’re softly snoring within minutes, but he still sits there to make sure you’re out for the count. When he’s sure you’re settled and still breathing, he heads downstairs, ignoring his father’s knowing look as he pours himself a generous amount of whiskey.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Javi shrugs, “I’m not sure,” He answers honestly, “It’s new.”

“Not that new,” Chucho huffs, “You were always shit at sneaking around,” He picks up his own drink, “Saw you after my birthday.”

Javi tips his head back and can’t help but chuckle because it’s true, he was never good at keeping things from his dad. He just hopes you’ve both done a better job at keeping things from your parents.

“You know what you’re doing with her?”

It’s a question he doesn’t really know how to answer, mulling over the answer in his mind before he lets his mouth speak.

“I just know I want to keep her safe,” He speaks, “And that I think I might love her.”

Javi watches as Chucho’s mouth grows into a smile, a small nod given in his direction.

“Will she be okay?”

Javi nods, “I think so yes, hit her head pretty hard, but I think after she’s slept she’ll be okay.”

Chucho pushes himself from his chair, draining his almost-empty cup. He puts it in the sink and then puts a warm hand on Javi’s shoulder with a squeeze.

“I just want you to be happy, finally,” He says, “That’s all that matters.”

Javi watches as he walks away, off to his room to sleep, and speaks into the silence of the empty kitchen once he’s gone, “Thanks, dad.”

[blissfullyecho]

Habits & Behaviors We’re Leaving in 2024

Join my 3-hour live workshop on Zoom, where we will create a tailored luxe glow-up plan personalized for you for 2025. Seats are limited and are first come, first served. Click here for more info.

As the year draws to a close, it’s time to take a hard look at the habits that have no place in the life of an evolved, high-value woman. We’re stepping into 2025 with elevated standards, refined taste, and a resolute refusal to entertain anything—or anyone—that doesn’t meet our expectations.

1. Over-Explaining Yourself

Your “no” is a full sentence, and your decisions don’t require a PowerPoint presentation. In 2025, we’re embracing the unapologetic confidence to let our choices speak for themselves.

2. Saying “Sorry” Excessively

Unless you’ve actually done something wrong, the word “sorry” needs to exit your vocabulary. Replace it with “thank you” or simply stay silent. Women who constantly apologize shrink themselves—and we don’t do that anymore.

3. Mindless Scrolling

We’re no longer wasting hours on social media feeds that offer nothing of substance. In 2025, if it doesn’t inspire, educate, or entertain on an elevated level, it’s blocked. Time is too valuable to squander.

4. Neglecting Self-Care

Gone are the days of running yourself ragged and calling it “grind culture.” Self-care isn’t indulgent—it’s essential. If you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will. And no, skipping skincare because you’re “too tired” isn’t cute anymore.

5. Overbooking Your Schedule

Being busy isn’t the same as being important. In 2025, we’re prioritizing rest, leisure, and quality time over the toxic cycle of constantly saying “yes” to everything. A well-rested woman is a powerful woman.

6. Gossiping

Talking about other people’s business is officially tacky. Elevated women don’t have time for petty chatter; they’re too busy building themselves and focusing on their own glow-up.

7. Wearing Clothes That Don’t Fit or Flatter

Stop keeping jeans that don’t button and dresses that don’t make you feel like a goddess. In 2025, we’re curating wardrobes that fit now and flatter always. If it doesn’t make you feel powerful, it doesn’t deserve a hanger in your closet.

8. Accepting Bare Minimum Effort

Whether it’s friendships, relationships, or your own goals, the bare minimum is officially out. We’re done settling for mediocrity. High-value women demand effort, and that starts with demanding it from ourselves.

9. Oversharing

Not everyone deserves access to your thoughts, plans, or emotions. Oversharing is the gateway to being misunderstood or undervalued. In 2025, we’re mastering the art of mystery—because the less they know, the more they want to.

10. Comparing Yourself to Others

Comparison is a thief, and it’s stealing your joy. In 2025, we’re focusing inward. Your only competition is the woman you were yesterday. Let others live their lives while you create one so stunning they’ll want to emulate you.

11. Chasing People

The energy of 2025 is simple: what’s meant for you will come to you effortlessly. Chasing people—romantic, platonic, or professional—is beneath a high-value woman. Let them go. If they don’t see your worth, it’s their loss.

12. Procrastinating on Your Glow-Up

No more waiting until “Monday” or “next year” to start bettering yourself. The gym, the books, the skincare routine, the side hustle—start now. 2025 is the year of execution, not excuses.

13. Engaging in Drama

Drama is for people with nothing better to do. Elevated women rise above it. Keep your energy focused on your goals and let others exhaust themselves with their nonsense.

14. Spending Energy on the Unreciprocated

Whether it’s love, friendship, or support, one-sided effort is out. We’re investing in relationships and opportunities that invest back in us. No more watering dead plants.

15. Overthinking Every Decision

Analysis paralysis is not chic. Trust your intuition, make the choice, and move forward. High-value women don’t waste time second-guessing themselves—they trust that they’ll adapt to whatever comes next.

16. Staying in Your Comfort Zone

Playing small and safe is so last year. In 2025, we’re taking risks, making bold moves, and embracing the discomfort of growth. Luxe lives are built outside the comfort zone.

17. Not Celebrating Your Wins

Downplaying your accomplishments? Stop it. In 2025, we’re celebrating every milestone—big or small. You worked hard for it, so let the world know you’re winning.

18. Neglecting Boundaries

If 2024 was the year of tolerating overstepping, 2025 is the year of hard stops. Boundaries aren’t just healthy; they’re essential to maintaining your peace, your energy, and your worth.

Join my 3-hour live workshop on Zoom, where we will create a tailored luxe glow-up plan personalized for you for 2025. Seats are limited and are first come, first served. Click here for more info.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 25 - New Year's kiss

Characters: Mammon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: a bit of self insert (my parents are not every one's parents), Mammon is taller than MC and they have a well established relationship, they are whipped for each other

A/N: we're finally here. Time passed so fast, I'm gonna miss this. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Next will be the 500 followers celebration, see you there :) (if you want to ofc)

.

“Shit!”

MC could only watch as Mammon kicked the wheel and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He seemed desperate, embarrassed and defeated, jewellery sparkling under the faint light of the rural streetlamps and eyes glistening with unshed tears. In a way, he also looked beautiful, and MC felt incredibly guilty for the thought alone.

He was wearing a suit, chest buttons opened and sleeves rolled up, ignoring the cold with nonchalance. Lucifer begged him to put on a coat to, at least, pretend that low temperatures did bother him a little, but Mammon wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t ignore his older brother’s suggestions. In the end, the coat ended up on MC’s shoulders.

The cold cut her skin when she got out of the car, but what hurt her the most was Mammon’s avoidant gaze. He was ashamed, but there was no way he could've known the engine would fail and leave them stranded out of town. The car wasn’t even his! It was rental!

“Things like this happen” she said in a low tone, grabbing the belt loops in his pants to pull him close to her. A blush immediately appeared on his cheeks and MC wasn’t able to hide her smile on time.

“Do they, tho’?”

“It’s an old car, so yeah”

“Well, it wouldn’t have if Lucifer let me bring my Lexura” he groaned, messing up his hair again “It’s his fault”

“It’s no one’s fault”

MC’s interruption went unnoticed and Mammon kept complaining to the air, growing aggravated without letting her get too far, her fingers still anchored to the loops.

She could understand him. It wasn’t the first time they celebrated the new year as a couple, but it would’ve been the first time spending it with her family. It was a milestone in their relationship he was eager to reach and the disappointment was evident in his face.

“You can fly us there and we can spend time with them still”

“But we’re not gonna be with them when the year starts”

His voice was meek, truly beaten, as if not being there when the year ends would bring bad luck to the new year. A superstitious thought that she wouldn’t have assigned to him before, but maybe this first impression was far more important to him than MC believed to be.

“Baby, come on… I swear it’s okay”

MC called his name, moving her arms to hug his waist, and a wave of relief covered her body when he hugged her back and let his cheek rest on top of her head. Although she couldn’t see him anymore, she knew he was blushing and that made her smile.

Not that far away, crossing the darkness of the countryside and beaming with street lights and firecrackers, the sound of chimes broke the silence. People screamed in excitement and anticipation and Mammon sighed with sadness. Only half a minute of the year remained and they were lost in the middle of the road, the asphalt too old for her to comfortably walk on and the distance too long for them to arrive in less than forty minutes.

Her parents would have to wait, but she knew they wouldn’t feel insulted. And frankly, it’s not like she was sad either. She was with Mammon, after all, listening to the weak ringing of the chimes with poorly hidden joyful agitation, and the closer they got to midnight, the faster her heart beat.

Mammon looked at her in surprise, keeping her close to shield her from the cold. The artificial light from above crowned his hair like a halo and MC was too happy to comment on the irony.

“Are you seriously okay with this?”

“Of course I am! As long as I start each new year with you, I’ll always be okay!”

The chimes got louder and people started to scream the countdown. Only 12 seconds left.

They were both smiling like idiots, the disappointment of not arriving on time slowly disappearing. MC stood on her tiptoes and Mammon leaned down.

“Stop being so cute, dammit”

She chuckled and he kissed her and the scream got louder. Fireworks exploding in the air while he spread his hands across her back and she cradled his face, keeping him where he was for a few more seconds before he managed to pull away.

With eyes half closed and a flushed expression, he murmured against her lips.

“Happy New Year, treasure”

“Happy New Year, Mammon”

MC smiled while he kissed her, repeating the gesture again and again until they started laughing. Then, they kissed once more.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[gaybananabread]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Perfection is Relative ˖ ݁݁ 𖥔.

~Soooo I’m in my rewatch-comfort-shows era, and Helluva Boss is next. I can’t wait for the newest episode, so I’m trying to get the insanity out with this. For anyone who happens to read this, I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Moxxie

Ler: Millie

Summary: Moxxie is second-guessing himself and stressing out about his appearance. Millie notices and decides to lovingly remind her husband what the word “perfect” truly means in this life.

Warnings: spoilers for Helluva Boss and fluffy couple romance (few kisses)! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Moxxie had always had confidence issues. Be it moral dilemmas, other’s perceptions or just general life itself, he would second-guess himself and shy away. However, there was one thing he could always trust himself to nail: his presentations.

Whenever Blitz had a performance-based job, Moxxie put his best hoof forward and found a rare spark of assurance and self-confidence. His outfits were on point, any makeup was flawless, and he got into the metaphorical zone. Nobody could ruin that for him, or so he thought.

At the summer camp, Moxxie had spent a good few hours designing his persona and the look of it. He was actually pretty proud of it. That was, until those teenage girls and everyone else at the camp insulted his appearance and disregarded his existence.

Millie and him had already discussed how it made him feel, and while he was incredibly happy for and proud of his wife, he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head. It bled into his everyday planning, making him critique every little detail about himself. Like that morning, where he’d spent half an hour adjusting his bowtie position.

“Maybe a bit lower to point the focus…” Moxxie mumbled to himself, loosening his bowtie once again. He’d left the bedroom door open, too focused on the mirror to notice. He didn’t even notice as his wife peeked in, nor he did he catch her small, knowing sigh.

“Honey…what’re you doing?” Millie came up behind him, resting her hands on his waist. She’d noticed his extra self-consciousness lately, but she hoped it was something he’d work out. It was apparently deeper than that, though, so she was at the ready with support and a - hopefully - helpful conversation.

“Adjusting my bow. It’s not really symmetrical, and I want it to send a certain message about me.” His words were a bit rushed, giving his wife a peek into the swirling storm of his mind. She wasn’t happy with what she saw.

“You really don’t need to worry, Mox. You look amazin’ already.” Millie gently grabbed his chin, turned him and kissed him. He sighed at the affection, pulling away after a second. Moxxie felt bad about kissing her; he wasn’t good enough yet. Millie deserved the world, and he couldn’t help but feel inadequate.

“If you say so, Mills. Just let me fix up a few more things.” Moxxie tugged at his collar, adjusting the bow and tugging his hair into place.

Now, Millie could’ve just left her husband to finish getting ready. However, doing so would’ve meant letting him think he needed any of the extra glitz and ritz he was putting forth. He was handsome and wonderful enough as-is; she was determined to get that through to him.

With a suppressed smirk, the female imp grabbed his chin once again, her tail snaking around his waist. Moxxie was oblivious to her true plot, just suspecting she wanted attention. “Millie, just gimme one seco- EEP!”

He cut himself off with a squeak as Millie’s claws skittered across his neck. Down below, the pointy tip of her tail was dragging along his side. The smirk was no longer suppressed, her adorable tooth gap showing in the playful grin.

“Mihihillie! Whahat are youhu dohohohoing?!” Moxxie squirmed and wriggled, trying to slip away from his wife. Millie wrapped her free arm around his waist, securing him while adding more wiggling fingers to his stomach.

“Gettin’ you outta your head, Mox. You got too much judgmental crud about yourself up there.” Millie placed a fluttery kiss behind his ear, making him squeak once again. Her fingers were still going at it, dragging the pointed claws along his belly and neck while her tail teased his side.

Moxxie instinctively folded like a lawn chair, his giggles squeaky and scratchy. His wife’s arm was the only thing keeping him from dropping to the floor.

“Mihihills! I cahahan’t- KYAAhahaha!” The sharpshooter kicked his hooves, each impact making a small clack against their wooden floor. Millie couldn’t help but coo at this.

“Aww, there we go, sugar~” She purred, chuckling against the warm skin of his neck. His careful bowtie placement was all messy now, skewed and crooked from Millie’s evil affection. She was hoping to get him all nice and messy before she stopped. He needed to see how amazing he was at his least dolled-up.

While his giggles were certainly music to her ears, she was looking for something with a bit more gusto. Millie wanted to really make him laugh.

Quickly spinning her husband around, she pushed him down onto their bed and grabbed his thighs. Moxxie’s eyes went as wide as saucers, but before he could say a word, her claws were wiggling into his sensitive skin.

“NAHAHAHO! MIHIHILIHIE PLEHEHEASE!” Moxxie’s precious giggles quickly rocketed up to loud, screeching cackles as Millie targeted his worst spot. He thrashed on the bed, ruining his hair and untucking his shirt in the process. She was quick to take advantage of that, slipping her tail underneath the fabric to tease his stomach once again.

“O-OHOHO MY SAHAHATAN!” Small tears of mirth gathered in the corners of his eyes, his cheeks stained a deeper, purple-ish red. The blush was adorable to Millie, though his tears showed she had gone far enough. She stilled her fingers, kissing his smiling lips.

“Ihihihi… oho cruhuhums…” Moxxie took a few deep, giggly breaths as he tried to regain his composure. That attack had come out of nowhere, but he didn’t exactly hate it. “Whahat was thahat for?”

“I already told ya, hon. You’re bein’ too hard on yourself.” Millie rolled off him, lying down beside her husband. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I juhust…I dunno, Millie. It’s just not enough. I need to be perfect.” She brushed a bit of his unruly hair back in place, humming. “I think you look pretty damn perfect right now, Mox. You’re only perfect when you’re you.”

Moxxie felt himself tear up at that. Millie was just…so herself. He thought she was perfect, so…maybe she was right. Leaning forward, he kissed her lovingly, his tail wrapping around hers.

Millie smiled into the soft embrace, cupping his face with one hand as the other held him close. He was so adorable just then: rosy cheeks, loving eyes, messy hair and love-drunk eyes. She could gaze at him for eternity and never tire of his most natural beauty.

“Uhum…what were we getting ready for again?” Moxxie asked as he pulled away, finally remembering that they had planned on going somewhere. It did kind of spoil the moment, but he genuinely couldn't remember.

“Well, I think…Blitz called us in? Somethin’ about a pop-up client.” Millie sighed, knowing that their boss was probably ready to kill them for not being there yet. She didn't regret a damn thing, of course; Moxxie was more important than work.

“Shit…you wanna get ready together?” Moxxie shrugged, offering the small moment. Millie looked him over one last time, taking in her perfectly amazing mess of a husband before nodding.

“Sounds good, Mox. But no spendin’ forever on silly things, got it?” She booped his nose for emphasis, wiggling a few sneaky fingers on his side. Moxxie giggled and jerked away, playfully glaring at her.

“Gohot it,” he agreed, sticking his tongue out with a smirk. Millie rolled her eyes before hopping off the bed as well, joining him by the mirror.

Moxxie looked into the reflective glass, seeing himself in near complete disarray. But, with Millie’s smiling figure by his side, loving every bit of him unconditionally, he couldn't help but like what he saw just that much more.